Five-Year Anniversary Reward 2: ANOMALY

The second of three, this one gave me a bit of trouble; I started it three times before finishing it. But I think it's fun. The basic prompt? Star Trek : The Next Generation intersecting with The Arena!

By its nature, this one should be limited only to Patrons; it is not and likely never will be publishable, and I have no rights for any of the non-Arenaverse characters or elements in this one.

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Anomaly

i.

"I'm actually looking forward to a month of training," Ariane admitted. "It's honestly relaxing compared to running the Faction of Humanity."

"Even more now that we're not worried about Vindatri messing with your head," agreed DuQuesne. "And we're almost there. You can see Halintratha ahead."

Sure enough, the ominous rectilinear shadow of Vindatri's hidden base was becoming visible within the swirling clouds of the Arena. The ur-Shadeweaver had been forced to move the immense structure, and it had been a few months before a note materialized in Ariane's quarters giving them directions to the new location. The appearance of Halintratha showed they had followed those directions correctly.

Wu Kung bounced to his feet. "He will see us soon and bring us in, I think."

"No doubt. I –"

Without warning, there was a brilliant sparkling of light out in the Deeps between them and Halintratha, a shimmering luminance unlike anything Ariane had ever seen. It flared up and then faded, leaving… a ship?

Has to be a ship, Ariane decided. But it was a very peculiar ship. Arenaverse vessels were nearly always streamlined, as they had to pass through air that averaged about as dense as Earth sea-level; normal-universe ships might be less aerodynamic but were almost always possessed of a certain symmetry to make acceleration and deceleration in the empty void of space easily calculated and controlled.

By contrast, this vessel fit neither category. What appeared to be the forward portion of the ship was an immense circular hull like two saucers placed face to face, connected to a generally cylindrical lower hull by a broad pylon; from the lower hull, two much more slender, curved pylons projected, each supporting another, narrower, flattened cylinder; something about those two said enginesto Ariane, though she wasn't sure why. The whole thing looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

It was also, evidently, in trouble, because it was tumbling slowly in the clouded skies of the Arena.

"Klono's tungsten teeth," breathed DuQuesne next to her, staring wide-eyed at the apparition.

The vessel slowed its tumbling and lights began to blink at various points along its length, as she glanced over to the huge Hyperion. "Do you know that ship?"

"I know what it looks like," DuQuesne said slowly. "But it's impossible."

A light on the board blinked; there was a radio transmission incoming. She switched the radio on.

"Unidentified vessel," said a deep, refined voice from the speaker, "this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Might I inquire as to whether you are responsible for our current situation?"

She saw DuQuesne shaking his head in disbelief as she responded, "This is Captain Ariane Austin, currently commanding the vessel Doc Smith. Since I have no idea who you are, I doubt that I or either member of my crew is responsible for your current status. You are also in a … perilous location. Permission to come aboard?"

A brief pause. "Granted. Our Transporters are currently unavailable, so you will have to dock. The blinking lights on the upper part of our main hull indicate an airlock available for your use."

"Thank you, Captain. We will be there in perhaps an hour, counting maneuvering time."

As soon as she switched off, Wu Kung was there, staring narrowly at her. "We do not even know who these people are! You can't just go visit!"

"You'll be there to keep me safe, Wu."

The Hyperion Monkey King snorted, but recognized an unwinnable argument. She turned to DuQuesne. "Marc? Talk to me."

"Ariane… that's …" he shook his head again. "Look, you savvy the way the Hyperions were created. Only one person out of every universe, with only a couple exceptions. Well, that ship," he jabbed a finger at the Enterprise, "is from a Hyperion universe's… future, I guess. Maria-Susanna's husband, and the man she was created for, came from that universe. Captain James T. Kirk, commanding an earlier version of the Enterprise."

The combination of the character's name with the repeated ship name brought back memories from her time on her grandfather's farm. "Star Trek?" she demanded incredulously. "Somebody's replicated an entire ship from that ancient show?"

"Weirder than that, Ariane. Jean-Luc Picard was the captain of the future Enterprise, in a follow-on series from the original. And no one ever made him. So what the hell's someone claiming to be him doing here in the Arena?" He gestured. "That wasn't a Sandrisson Jump; we know what that kind of jumpflash looks like."

"No, it was not," agreed a cold, high voice behind them. "And I did not sense any of the Arena's power at work."

Black robes flowing in a nonexistent wind, Vindatri stood behind them, towering above everyone but DuQuesne. "I think we shall not wait the time it takes to navigate. Come."

With a gesture, Vindatri simply banished space and time; when her vision cleared, she was standing on the deck of a large, generally circular command bridge.

Rising in startlement in front of her were three people. In the center, a moderately tall, well-built man, bald head shining above an intelligent, commanding face. To his one side, a slightly taller man, sporting a beard not entirely unlike DuQuesne's, sharp eyes studying them all – and pausing with visible approval on Ariane before moving on. On the bald man's other side, a striking woman with very curly hair also studied them with an air of gentle curiosity.

Glancing quickly around, Ariane saw there were multiple other stations on this two-level bridge. All of the crew were human or, she guessed, modified human; there was one dark-skinned man with a ridged, sculpted forehead and another, smaller man whose skin was an unnatural white and eyes a similarly unusual yellow.

The bald man spoke, and his voice instantly identified him as the "Captain Picard" they had heard earlier. "Identify yourselves, please. I was expecting visitors by a more… mundane route."

"I decided not to wait the hour that would be required," Vindatri said. "I am Vindatri, and it is in my territory you have appeared. This is Captain Ariane Austin and her companions Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne and Sun Wu Kung."

"Very interesting, Captain," said the pale-skinned man, eyes surveying them with a precision that felt almost mechanical.

"What is it, Data?"

"The name 'Sun Wu Kung' is one of a number assigned to the mythical being also called the Monkey King; this individual's appearance fits many elements of that being.

"There is also a fictional character named Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne, and again, this individual meets a significant number of the descriptors for that character."

"Ha! And I should. Then again, you fit the descriptors of fictional characters yourselves," DuQuesne said bluntly. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of course, and if I remember right you're Commander William Riker," indicating the bearded man, "Counselor Deanna Troi," the woman on Picard's left, "Commander Data, Ensign Wesley Crusher," a very young man sitting next to Data, "and that's Lieutenant Worf – no, I see it's Lieutenant Commander by the insignia."  That last was addressed to the ridged-forehead gentleman.

"Fictional, you say." Picard raised an eyebrow.

"Real enough to concern me," Vindatri said. "your method of arrival was unorthodox, and your ship is an anomaly. This may pose… a problem."

"Causing problems already, Jean-Luc?"

A slender man in a uniform similar to Picard's had simply appeared on the bridge, an expression of supercilious amusement clear on his long, humorous face. "Really, Mon Capiatane, you must be careful; what of the Prime Directive?"

"Q," Picard said, in a tone of long-suffering annoyance. "I was rather expectingyou to show up. I presume you're responsible for this situation?"

"How presumptuousof you, Captain. No, this wasn't my doing at all, though it was an intriguing thought," Q said.

"Who is this person?" Ariane demanded. "And how did he just pop up here?"

"This is Q," Riker replied. "Cosmic prankster. I'd say ignore him and he'll go away, but he's more like a toddler: he'll just get more annoying until you pay attention."

"Ah, Commander, such cutting wit."

Vindatri turned his gaze to Q. "Can you return them to wherever they came?"

"I suppose I could, but why? The show's just begun, and honestly, I'm curious to see what happens! One takes one's amusement where one finds it, you know. The Continuum has the slight drawback of being awfully predictable most of the time. Have to pop out to the wider universe to have a chance of actual surprises."

Ariane looked at the pompous Q, shrugged, then turned to Picard. "So you have no idea why you're here?"

"None. We were cruising to Theta Hydrae en route to our next mission, when… well, here we were."

A whistle and beep. "Engineering to Bridge."

"Pardon me a moment." Picard moved over and touched a control. "Go ahead, Commander LaForge."

"Apologies, Captain, but… I'm stumped. I can't find anything wrong with the warp core or the secondary reactors. They just won't turn on."

"That is disturbing. How long can we operate on battery power?"

Ariane remembered asking the same question, the day they first found the Arena.

LaForge answered, "If we just use it for basic life support, minimal drives, maybe a couple months. If we have to run or fight, that will be cut waydown."

Ariane looked to Vindatri. "Could you get their power up and running?"

"It is possible; you yourself know the basic rituals. But I would be loath to do so." Vindatri's face looked tense within the cowl of his robe. "This vessel is an anomaly, something that does not belong – and I very much fear it may draw attention."

DuQuesne growled something under his breath. "You mean the kind of attention me and Simon had to draw off before?"

"Precisely, Doctor DuQuesne. That… force is drawn to the unusual, to the powerful mysteries." He looked again to Q. "I would recommend, whether this was your doing or not, you remove yourself and your friends from the Arena. This is not safe for any of you."

Q gave another of his mocking smiles and looked to Picard. "Isn't this exciting, Jean-Luc? Some unknown danger looms! Mysterious failure of your toys! How will you escape this?"

"Why do you let him talk like that?" Wu Kung asked. "He isn't even on your crew and he is insulting your captain."

"Not much we can do," Wesley said with an irritated look at Q. "He doesn't look like it, but he's almost omnipotent."

Wu Kung snorted. "Him? There is more power in that one," he pointed to Worf, "than in any two of that fool."

Q rolled his eyes. "If you must chatter like a monkey, you might as well beone." He made a gesture.

Wu Kung stared at him. "Was that supposed to do something?"

Q goggled at him, then frowned, gestured again. Eyes going wider, he put hands to his head in a parody of a man focusing. Nothing else happened, except for the hint of a smile on Picard's lips – and a very broad grin on Riker's face.

"It's gone! The Continuum! My power! I…" Q froze, then glared up in fury at something beyond the hull. "Enowil, you … lunatic!"

"Enowil?" inquired Picard.

"Enowil," agreed Q, making the name sound like a curse. "A sort of … colleague of mine in the past, one might say, or a correspondent. I see now that he suggested this entire thing as a joke on me as well!"

"Another member of the Q Continuum?" Riker asked. "I thought you were the only one wasting so much time on us primitives."

"No, he isn't a Q. He is… or was, before they kicked him out… an Organian."

"Discussions of this nature are useless," Vindatri snapped. "You need to return to your… wherever you came from. DuQuesne's universe?"

"No, it's way worse than that, Vindatri. These people shouldn't exist here. They're not Hyperion creations. They're not actors or clones or any of that. Somehow they are what they look like, which means they're from a reality so far away that it's literally fiction here."

"You mentioned that before," Picard said. "You know us from … stories, then?"

"Yeah. You were a television series, way back in the late 20th century."

Ariane looked to Vindatri. "Can you hide them from this… force?"

"For a time, yes," Vindatri said after a moment. "But only for a time. And the longer they are here, the harder it will be for them to hide. DuQuesne is correct, they are a terrible anomaly, a piece of a continuum that does not belong in this one, and they will draw the Enemy here."

"How long do we have, then?"

"I can conceal this vessel for six hours," Vindatri said after a moment. "Six hours, but no longer. If you are not prepared to depart for your home then… the Enemy will find you."

ii.

Are you surethese people are… the real people they appear to be? That was Ariane's thoughtvoice.

DuQuesne grimaced. They shouldn't be, but by all those legendary rows of little green apple trees they sure seem to be. A quick mindscan – surface only – tells me they aren't playing games, they really believe they are who they say they are. And my sense of perception says this ship's absolutely real, and at the same time it makes no more sense than the gadgets me and Simon cobbled together when we had to. That 'Mr. Data' over there? He's not biological. He's some kind of android, but working on principles we simply don't have. Don't know if that's why he's still functioning, or if it's because the Arena's using the Hyperion ruleset on them, or what.

DuQuesne felt Ariane's mind going into its Leader of the Faction overdrive. Marc, if their gadgets are the same kind of… nonsense, can you go down and help them somehow get working again? If they explain the principles of their fiction?

DuQuesne felt his eyebrows go up. That's a thought, that is. Worth a try. We do notwant to meet up with the boojum that almost chased me and Simon down before, believe you me. "Captain Picard, I'm a power engineer; might be I could help your engineer figure out what's wrong, or how to make things work here. Permission to try?"

Picard was clearly cut from the same cloth as Ariane. He simply surveyed DuQuesne, then nodded. "Make it so. We obviously can use all the help we can get. Captain Austin, as this… Vindatri appears to be fully occupied by hiding our presence, perhaps you can enlighten us a bit more about this location in which we find ourselves? I would like to believe we will find our way out before this Enemy discovers us, but…" he gave a shrug, "experience has shown that often what we would like to believe isn't the case."

"That goes twice here in the Arena," agreed Ariane. "Go to it, Marc; Wu and I have it here."

"I'll escort him, Captain," said Commander Riker.

"Agreed, Number One."

The first officer joined DuQuesne in the lift. "Engineering," he said, and the turboelevator immediately dropped; after a while it shifted direction.

Riker looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Television? Really?"

"Yeah, I know the feeling. I was designed after a book character, a long story that I actually hope we don't have time for. If it makes you feel any better, your television series lasted a very long time."

"Not meaning any offense, but if that's the case, then what makes you think you can help? I presume our fictional technology wouldn't actually work the way a television show claimed it did."

"Probably not, but … well, short version is that the power in charge here, calling itself the Arena, is likely the reason your engines and most of your computers and such shut down. Same happened when we got here ourselves. But it turns out that if you play by the Arena's rules sometimes you can convince it to change how things work. If, that is, you've got a little edge of your own."

The doors slid open and DuQuesne stared into a large room, the centerpiece being a generally tubular construction with flickering, layered disc-shaped elements within. A slender black man wearing a wraparound visor was lying under the console nearby, peering into an open hatch.

"Geordie," Riker said, "This is Dr. DuQuesne. He says he's a power engineer and might be able to help us."

"I'll take all the help I can get," Geordie LaForge said earnestly. "Dr. DuQuesne? Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise. Now, this'll sound like a strange request, but could you give me an overview of how it all works here? Pretend I don't know much past, oh, relativity and basic quantum theory."

LaForged pursed his lips. "Wow. That's a challenge, but okay. You understand the basics of matter and antimatter, right?"

"Yeah, I've got that."

"Well, the Alcubierre theory for warp drive was devised back in the 20thcentury, but the problem was that it always required exotic matter to make an effective warp bubble." DuQuesne nodded. "So, it wasn't until Cochrane figured out how to use a phased-metamaterial matrix to create virtualexotic matter that we were able to create an actual functional warp bubble." He glanced to DuQuesne.

"Got it. Create the spacetime geometry that implies the exotic matter, even for just a split second, you get virtual particles to spec. So if you can make your matrix oscillate really fast, you make it look like you have the negative matter you need to effectively create the warp bubble. Clever, but that can'tbe stable."

"It wasn't. Early warp drive ships were, honestly, deathtraps. But once we established working relations with the Vulcans, they showed us how to use a dilithium matrix to direct matter-antimatter reactions for both power and to generate the warp field directly. Dilithium's a very rare material, with a crystal matrix that actually extends outside the ordinary three-dimensional structural parameters; properly charged it also repels charged antimatter particles, so it can operate in the antimatter stream without being annihilated and serve as a guide and channel."

"So if energized properly it'd be a lot more stable matrix source of matter that was a little outside normal universal assumptions. And that's what you use here?"

"Right! But it's just not working now. I charge the matrices, start the flow, and after the initial pulse… nothing."

Yeah, I remember that well. DuQuesne had practically torn his hair out the first week, trying to figure out why a thermonuclear reactor that had absolutely nothing wrong with it not only wouldn't work, but wouldn't even produce a few neutrons from a failed reaction.

Now's the time to start the old crazy gadgeteering working. He regarded the warp engine core, surveyed the ancillary systems, let himself get a feel for the impossible engineering that guided this ship… and remembering his own fictional background…

"Okay, Geordie, let's look at it this way," he said after a moment. "Don't mind if I call you Geordie? You could call me Marc."

"Go ahead, Marc. No problem here."

"Thanks. Well, you guys have come through into a different space-time continuum than you're native to. Fortunately, thank all the gods of space, it's compatible with human life, but it's still got its own rules."

"How'd we even get here?"

"There's a guy named Q upstairs who –"

"Oh, for God's sake," Geordie said in a disgusted voice. "Say no more. Q or one of his people always is behind this kind of thing. So we're in a new continuum?"

"For you, yes. So let's look at the way the engines work. You're using this multidimensional crystal for your engine, and that generates a warp bubble in your home continuum. But if you're in a different continuum –"

Geordie smacked his head. "The universal parameters aren't constant! So the matrix isn't properly synched and the virtual particles don't get generated! But then why didn't we explode? The antimatter seems… inert. I'd swear that if I opened up the panel and stuck my hand in nothing would happen."

"I wouldn't try it, but you're probably right. That part's external; there's a local operant force that suppresses high-energy reactions like nuclear, thermonuclear, and antimatter. Long story. But that's in this continuum. So…"

Geordie frowned, then his face cleared. "Ah! So if we can get a warp bubble going, we technically wouldn't be in the local operant continuum and the antimatter reaction should proceed!"

"That's my thinking."

LaForge was moving to the main console. "Right, right. When we control the drive, we have to adjust the warp bubble parameters to go, effectively, faster or slower, or turn, and that also feeds directly into the inertial compensators. If we can adjust the parameters of the warp itself, maybe we can use the drive guide fields to force the dilithium matrix to temporarily synch to the local field conditions."

DuQuesne nodded. "Which, if you can put enough power into it, let you form a small warp bubble to get the antimatter reaction going, which would then give you enough power for the whole ship. Right?"

"I think so! But I'll need someone to help set up the exact parameters – the computers are down –"

"I can do the numbers as well as anyone. Just show me the calculations!"

There. Got my Hyperion technological nonsense field going. Just maybe it'll let these people get home.

iii.

"Astonishing," Picard said. "So this 'Arena' is completely isomorphic with your version of the normal universe?"

"But only about thirty to sixty light-years across in its internal scale, yes," Ariane said.

"Intriguing," said Data, his expression showing a faint but real excitement. "And so by controlling this space, this 'Arena' effectively prevents any star travel except within its own rules. But what is the purpose?"

"Ha!" said Wu Kung. "No one knows that! The Vengeance think it's because the Voidbuilders were just jealous and selfish and want to keep the power for themselves; the Faith think the Voidbuilders are gods and we are in some great test. Many guesses, no proof."

"Is the Arena itself intelligent?" asked Counselor Troi. Ariane, with her new abilities, had sensed a strange, low-key but very real emanation from Troi. She must have powers that she got to keep, unlike this Q.

"There is an intelligence that claims to speak for the Arena," Ariane answered, after considering for a moment. "I'm fairly sure it iswhat it claims to be, but I can't prove it. I also can't say if it's a machine intelligence or a biological one."

"What would be the difference?" inquired Data – it was obviously a subject very near to his own interests.

"In the long run? Probably none. But it would be a bit ironic if the Arena isan artificial intellect, since it excludes all Ais from operation. I'm not sure why it's left you running; it obviously shut down the advanced intelligence operations on the Enterprise."

"That is an interesting anomaly," agreed Data. "I must assume this Arena is not misled by superficial appearances, and so it is not merely that I appear to be human."

"No, it wouldn't be; more than one group has tried to get around the limitation by making Ais resident in living bodies." She considered Data. "If I had to guess? It's because your crewmates don't think of you as being any different."

"So the perceptions of others can affect the behavior of the Arena?" asked Ensign Crusher.

"To a very specific extent… that only it knows… yes. It's partly others' perceptions, and partly your own. Is the Enterprise normally fully sapient?"

Picard shook his head. "It is extremely high-level automation, but fully sapient machine intelligences have not generally been deployed. Mr. Data is an exception."

"Then it may be that it is because he is such an exception, and is a fully sapient person in the bargain," Ariane said. "But it's hard to say. The Arena doesn't generally explain itself."

"Captains," Vindatri said, strain in his voice, "Time is running short. I do not believe I can maintain concealment for much longer."

"How long after your shield drops would this… Enemy locate us?" Worf asked.

"Not long." Vindatri surveyed them. "This anomaly is… obvious, to those with the senses to perceive it. Your Enterprise does not belong in this universe, and the Enemy will see it, as a light blazing upon a darkened plain. The Enemy must have been distant indeed to not have already reached you, but surely it already is searching for you."

"Mr. LaForge," Picard said into the intercom, "have you and Dr. DuQuesne made any progress?"

"Working on it, Captain," LaForge responded. "But I'm going to have to take almost all our power to try to restart the warp core. Gravity's going to be out for a few seconds."

"Our time is running out, Mr. LaForge."

"It's only been five and a half hours," DuQuesne's voice responded.

"Six hours was an estimate. I will not reach that mark, Doctor," Vindatri said sharply. "Five minutes. Ten at the outside."

"Klono's tungsten – all right, Gordie, we've got to cut those corners!"

"If we get the timing wrong the whole ship could –"

"If that thing out there finds us, the whole ship will anyway."

Geordie said a word that Ariane suspected would have been censored in his original show. "Captain, give the no-gravity warning. Three minutes."

Picard nodded. "Shipwide intercom, Mr. Worf." After a pause, he spoke, and Ariane could feel the words echoing through the decks below. "Attention all hands. We are about to experience another several seconds of weightlessness. Everyone find a stable location and handhold. Strap yourself in if possible. Weightlessness in… two minutes thirty seconds."

Picard calmly counted down, in thirty-second intervals, then the final thirty.

"All right," said Geordie as the countdown approached zero. "Here goes nothing!"

The bridge went pitch-black, the only light coming from the faint aura around Vindatri, now visible in the darkness.

Then the bridge's lights blazed on, and Ariane realized she had seen only the dim emergency lighting. The bridge of the Enterprise was brilliantly, clearly lit, showing its clean, smooth lines perfectly in the restored light.

"That should've done it, Captain!"

"Affirmative," Data said, hands dancing over his control panel. "Warp power fully restored. Antimatter reactions now stabilizing."

"Now," DuQuesne said, tension clear in his voice, "we have to figure out how you can jump home."

"Swiftly, Doctor," Vindatri said. "Because … I am… done!"

The towering, cloaked figure collapsed to the deck.

"Mr. Data?"

"Scanning, Captain. No sign of hostile presences yet. Sensors are picking up a wide variety of structures throughout local space, consistent with the "Arena" as described."

Ariane stared at the viewscreen, which was now showing a scan of a galaxy-shaped mass of Spheres – a Spherepool. "My God," she said. "We can't detect anything much past about a hundred thousand miles."

"It would appear that the restart of our warp bubble provides our sensors with partial immunity from the interference of your Arena," said Data, "or so I would hypothesize." His head tilted. "Captain, I am now detecting a large disturbance approaching, bearing 112 mark 7, range approximately one point five lightyears and closing at…" he hesitated.

"Mr. Data?"

"The velocity exceeds normal calculation, Captain. In old-style warp factor measurements, on the close order of Warp 42. I estimate arrival in ten minutes."

The Enemy Vindatri mentioned. "Did you hear that, Marc?"

"Yeah, I heard. Working on a solution, but I dunno if we can do it in ten minutes!"

Picard raised his head. "We will give you all the time we can. Sound Red Alert."

Immediately a klaxon began sounding through the Enterprise. "Red Alert. Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Red Alert. Red Alert. All hands to battlestations…"

"Mr. Data, can we reach warp speed?"

"All telltales show green, Captain."

"Then take us out, Mr. Data, Warp Six. No need to lead this entity to Vindatri's location."

"Yes, sir. Course?"

"Directly away from the approaching target."

"Setting course two hundred eighty-two mark three hundred fifty-three."

"Engage!"

The Arena dissolved into a blur of color, a pastel flickering punctuated by streaks of black or white or green.

"Information, Captain. Warp drive appears to be operating far more efficiently in this compressed universal space."

"Can we outrun our pursuer, Mr. Data?"

"I am unsure as to whether that is possible, Captain, but we are at least now of the same order of magnitude of velocity. Perhaps our assumed adversary is also making use of warp field propulsion."

I wish Simon were here. Imagine what he'd make of this.

You and me both, DuQuesne's mindvoice concurred.

"Warp Eight, Mr. Data. Let's see what she can do."

An increase in the humming drone of the engines coincided with Data's actions. "We will not be able to outrun the pursuing force, but we will gain considerable time. I would recommend we reduce to Warp Six, however, as we do not wish to overstrain the engines."

"Make it so. How long before the enemy is in range?"

"I have no data on this 'Enemy' and its offensive capabilities. However, it will enter our engagement range in one half hour at our present speed."

"Mr. LaForge, Mr. DuQuesne," said Picard. "We have gained you another twenty minutes. Will that suffice?"

"It'll have to," said DuQuesne. "Of course, there's one other problem."

"That is?"

A dark chuckle. "If we figure out how to make the jump… we're all coming along for the ride. And we really can't afford to leave."

Ariane winced. She hadn't thought of that, and by the look on the Captain's face, he hadn't either. "Nor would we want to just send you out in a shuttlecraft. It would be an anomaly of its own," Picard said slowly. He was quiet a moment.

"Captain," Worf said, deep voice breaking the silence. "Our Transporters are operational. If we were to stop somewhere, we could beam them down to a… Sphere, and then leave."

"That might work, Mr. Worf. But that assumes we are able to depart well enough ahead of this pursuer that it would not possibly detect the transfer. I do not like the idea of leaving our hosts to face whatever this Enemy is by themselves."

"I have a suggestion."

Q had risen from the chair he had been sitting in, silent, for the past hours.

Picard raised an eyebrow. "A suggestion? Very well, Q. What is it?"

Q's face was that of someone asked to swallow live slugs, but he answered. "The same method that could be used to transfer you to our home universe would also much more easily be used to transmit a signal."

"A signal," repeated Picard. "And what would this signal be?"

Q set his jaw. "A message from me."

"To this 'Enowil' you mentioned," Ariane said.

"Yes." It was clear from his expression that the thought actively pained Q.

The latter might have been what convinced Picard. "Mr. LaForge, Mr. DuQuesne: could you transmit a subspace message to our home continuum more quickly than complete your work to get the Enterprise itself home?"

"Oh, much more easily, Captain," LaForge responded almost instantly. "But we have no idea where we are, relative to our home universe. If we punch through a communication, it might be beamed straight into Federation Headquarters, the Klingon Empire, or the Andromeda Galaxy or even some quasar ten billion lightyears off."

Still speaking through his teeth, Q said, "That will not be a problem. He'll hear me."

"One last note," DuQuesne said. "More easily doesn't mean there's no tradeoff. We'll have to shift our focus on what we're doing with the emitters and waveform generators, and punching a message through Klono-only-knows how much dimensional distance will mean we'll have to take the warp engines offline – and they'll stay offline for a few minutes."

"Meaning our enigma out there will be getting very close, Captain," said Riker.

Picard looked narrowly at the soi-disant omnipotent Q. "How sureare you that this will work, Q?"

"If your primitive technology can do what you claim? Absolutely, Mon Capitaine," he replied, with the faintest trace of a surprisingly self-deprecating smile. "Let us say… it's a sure bet."

"Then make it so, Mr. LaForge!"

iv.

Q sat at the communications console, staring at it, Ariane thought, rather like it was a viper about to bite him. The rest of the crew sat farther away. Ariane walked up to him. "So," she said, "you're supposed to be omnipotent?"

Q glanced up in surprise – and she saw surprise at being surprised in his face, too. "Usually," he said. "This is not the very first time I have been reduced to merely human, but it is the first time I have been… so marooned that even the possibility of regaining my former state was in question."

"They don't seem to like you much here."

The shadow that flickered across Q's face would have escaped most people, but Ariane had been spending a lot of time around Hyperions, and it looked very much like regret. "I consider myself an… instructor," he said, very quietly. "I have been a judge, jury, and executioner, a prankster, a teacher setting Picard and some of his other people various problems."

"Why?"

"Why not? You cannot imagine what it's like being part of a… continuum of yourself. Of others like you, yet different, yet at the same time all very much gods or even on the farther side of what god might mean. Why do humans sometimes spend hours staring at ants? Because it can be interesting. Amusing. Different."

Ariane studied him in silence for a moment, until he shifted uncomfortably. "One thing I've learned here," she said at last, "is that it doesn't matterhow powerful you are, you're always up against something that can match you. Yourself. And if you can't hold up the mirror to yourself and see what's there, you're never going to understand what you're doing wrong." She gestured to the viewscreen. "The Arena's damn near omnipotent. I'm pretty sure if it wantedto it could kick this ship back where it came from. It's not doing it. I don't know why, but I could make guesses. But I do know that it doesn't  see us as ants. It could crush us like ants, but there's something about us – not just me and DuQuesne and Vindatri and Wu, but all of us, the Analytic and the Faith and the Shadeweavers and every single species out there – that's important to it, so important that it's playing a balancing act on so many levels none of us even have an idea what it's actually up to.

"So me? I think these people are important to you, Q. I don't know why, but I think there's a lot more than some idle kid playing god and thinking he's got all the answers; you ought to know that all-powerful doesn't mean all-understanding. I sure as hell hope so, anyway, because otherwise? You're just pathetic."

Q glared at her, but for just an instant she saw another shadow behind his gaze.

"Captain," LaForge said from the intercom.

"Go ahead,"

"We're ready if you are. As soon as we open the channel, though, we're dead in space."

Picard looked over. "Q? Are you ready?"

Q straightened. "I have prepared myself."

"Open the channel!"

The lights dimmed and the Enterprise was suddenly at rest, floating in the twining clouds of the Arena.

"Comm channel open, Captain," DuQuesne said. "Make it fast, this isn't easy to keep going!"

Q activated the communicator, opened his mouth, closed it. Then he looked around the bridge, seeming to see each person there for the first time, ending with a look at Picard's calm face. Then he closed his eyes. "Enowil, this is Q," he said, then paused. He drew another breath and finished, "You win."

Without even a flash, there was a new figure standing on the bridge.

The newcomer was dressed in a bright plum-colored velvet suit, with a patterned shirt beneath, a ruffly bow-tie, and a brown velvet top-hat. He was leaning on an ivory-handled cane, and his eyes twinkled below curly red-blond hair. "Do I? I mean, sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, and sometimes winning is losing, and losing wins out in the long run – but I never run for long." He glanced around, confusion obvious. "But where is my old friend? This isthe Enterprise, and I was so hoping to see Captain Kirk again!"

Picard had a rather long-suffering expression on his face, but gave a nod to the newcomer. "This is indeed the Enterprise," he said, "but Captain Kirk was its captain more than seventy years ago."

Enowil goggled at him, yanked a large pocket-watch out, shook it, and then tossed it over his shoulder, where it vanished. "Well, that's verydisappointing. I had hoped to resume a discussion of puns with him. Perhaps I'll do it later, meaning earlier, if you know what I mean."

"Enowil!" Q's voice was very near a snarl.

"Yes, yes, I've already said that's my name. For now. Names are so changeable, a millennium here, a millennium there, you know."

"Captain," Data said, "the presumed enemy is closing on our position."

"Enowil," Picard said, "we have figured out –"

"-how to return to your universe, yes! That was the core of our little wager, with a few niggling details, but the crux of it was that I could maroon you anyware in the omniverse and somehow you would solve the problem. After all, it was to solve an insuperable problem that I first recruited the Enterpriseand they came through with so many flying colors it took me at least a week to catch all of those colors; you wouldn't believe how fast yellow-greens can fly."

Ariane was starting to wonder if this Enowil were entirely sane. He certainly wasn't nearly as stable as Q appeared to be.

"In range in five minutes, Captain," Data said.

"I admit I have not seen such flying colors," Picard said carefully. "But while we have solved that problem, we have others on board who belong here and should be returned to their vessel. And something that we have reason to believe is hostile is approaching us."

"Hostile? Q, have you annoyed someone again? Oh, foolish question, of course you have, but perhaps not this. Let me see."

A gigantic, cartoonish telescope materialized in Enowil's hands and the peculiar being whipped it up, made a show of peering through it.

Abruptly he straightened, dropping the telescope, which bounced once before vanishing. "Oh, dear dear. That isn't good." His gaze darted about the bridge. "What are we all standing around for? So much time and so little do to." He froze. "Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it."

"Then dosomething, Enowil!" Q burst out.

"Why don't you do something?" Enowil asked, confused. "You're omnipotent, aren't you?"

"Not since you stripped away my powers!" shouted Q in exasperation.

"Did I do that? Oh, no, that was your transition across so many dimensional interfaces, you're far too far from the Continuum to maintain a connection."

"Then why," Ariane asked, unable to contain herself, "do you still have yours?"

"Oh, I'm not part of that stuffy old Continuum! They wouldn't have me, any more than those even stuffier Organians. So wherever I go, there I am, you see? I carry all of myself with me.."

"One minute thirty seconds," Data said. "Object is of indeterminate shape but masses roughly seven solar masses."

"Oh, yes, not something any of us want to meet. At least not yet," Enowil said, looking at Ariane. "No, no, you've so many mirrors to look in before you find that looking back, my dear." He straightened. "But it is indeed time to bid farewell, adieu, au revoir, later dudes!"

There was a flash of ridiculously purple light and the smell of… chocolate?

When her vision cleared, Ariane found herself standing on the deck of Doc Smith, DuQuesne and Wu Kung beside her.

She looked around. The command deck looked just as it had before; Halintratha loomed vaguely before them, cloaked in red cloud.

"Marc? Did you.."

"Yeah, I did. I'm not sure I even want to log this one, Ariane."

"I wanted to see where they came from," Wu Kung said with a pout. "But I guess I would have had a hard time getting back."

"And what the hell did he mean about that last crack about mirrors?"

"I'm not sure," Ariane said. "And honestly? I'm not sure I want to know."

But somewhere inside, she was sure she would know.

One day.