The Lost Generation
Chapter Three: Homeward Bound
by Todd Elsen and Andrew Johnson
(TsunamiKin@aol.com)

Chapter Three: Homeward Bound

The aftermath of the battle with the Klingons takes it's toll and a return home is planned for the Lost Generation.

Pierpoint sat uncomfortably in the quarters they gave him after he was released from sickbay aboard the Enterprise. He was fairly sure that this was the biggest stateroom he had ever been in. Pierpoint gingerly rubbed his left shoulder and winced. He wasn't sure how to be feeling at that particular moment in time. On the one hand, he had survived what could have been a lethal explosion. He should spend his recovery time counting his lucky stars. Completely intact, just a little sore. He wasn't sure if there was a part of his body that didn't hurt in some way, but at least those body parts were still attached as they were supposed to be-just a little jostled around.

On the other hand, he was in that explosion to rescue his best friend. The Revolution, the most state-of-the-art battle cruiser in Starfleet, had been seriously damaged in the encounter with the Klingon L-13 battleship. That explosion was supposed to destroy the Klingons and leave the good guys out of harm's way. That was the point of this whole conflict, Pierpoint grumbled, to keep the Klingons from harming more Federation members. Then, when we get the chance to strike at the heart of their line, their destruction results in our massive casualties. This is the same story throughout history-the good fighting the evil in the universe, usually with the good suffering immeasurable casualties...

A small beep from the computer on the desk in front of him interrupted his monologue. He looked at the console and viewing the new reports coming from Vega Base II about the condition of Dunham's ship. They were not positive. The Revolution had received 25% damage to her starboard photon torpedo wing, secondary, and primary hulls from being caught in the explosion. Of course the structural integrity generators were also to blame, as well as the maneuver that damaged those systems, which led to the damage caused by the explosion. Pierpoint shook his head as he read over the Revolution casualties. The new estimates listed 75 dead and 200 injured. Most of the wounded were on Danubus III recovering, and it was a small consolation that the estimated number of dead had gone down. Figuring the numbers in his mind, he guessed that left the Revolution now with a crew of around 170. Could they limp the Revolution home? But with the loss of the Revolution's firepower, the operation could easily fail, should they encounter more angry Klingons. He pounded his fist on the desk, "Damnit!"

The door chimed. Pierpoint took a deep breath, settled his anger, walked to the door and opened it. He was greeted by a lovely blonde woman with shoulder length hair that hung straight until the ends where it curled up. She was a small woman, coming up only to Pierpoint's shoulder. Her face was so familiar to him, but he couldn't place it right away. There was something about the way her eyes were too blue to be gray, but too gray to be blue and the way her hair fell just at her shoulder and bounced as she moved. Finally, he recalled her face. Could it be?

"Leslie?" he asked cautiously. His eyes were full of joy and sadness and he felt a knot form in his stomach. He looked like he was ready to hug her.

"No, sir. My name is Lt. Commander Rachel Young with Starfleet Intelligence. I have beamed over from the Illuminati." Pierpoint continued to look her up and down, and she began to feel uncomfortable. It was very strange to approach a man on official business and receive this kind of a welcome. She couldn't decide if she should offer her hand in friendship or run screaming back down the hallway. Instead, she took a step back and cleared her throat. "Sir, you were expecting me, correct?"

Pierpoint blinked his eyes and smiled, "Forgive me, Commander. It's just you look like someone I know." He felt himself blush a bit.

Young smiled and laughed nervously, "Sir, I am afraid that that line doesn't work in this universe either."

"Very good!" Pierpoint laughed out loud. "Please come in. How can I help you, commander?"

"I have been asked by Starfleet Intelligence to interview you."

"Why the big interest in me?" asked Pierpoint, walking to his desk.

"Well, sir, according to all of our findings, you have crossed over from another universe. That doesn't happen everyday." She followed him, looking around the stateroom in awe.

Pierpoint nodded, he had to give her that. He motioned to her to sit and she chose the chair in front of the desk, "I'm ready when you are, Lt. Commander."

She laid a tricorder on the desk, "Please, Mr. President, tell me, where are we?"

"Currently on board the Enterprise in orbit of Danubus III." stated Pierpoint.

"Do you know the date?"

"I'm afraid that I don't. I know that when we came through the fissure the date was July 4, 1988." Young's mouth dropped open. Pierpoint looked at her, "Is there something wrong, Lt. Commander?"

Young became a little angry with herself. She thought she had a better poker face, but the date Pierpoint just stated was 300 years ago. "No, no, sorry, please continue."

The door to Dunham's quarters attempted to slide open. The machinery groaned and the whine of metal grinding metal made him shudder. The entire deck had been shifted from the collision and the explosion. Dunham wondered if the Revolution would ever be the same again. He locked his fingers around the misaligned doors and strained to force them open. They gave reluctantly, and he slid sideways into his quarters. It was pretty much what he was expecting to see, total destruction. He sighed and started poking around the shattered glass and fallen steel, shaking debris from crumpled clothes. The light from the dim, flickering lamps didn't give much of a clear view of his living room, and it made it harder to discern between the current trash and the former treasures.

He groaned as he stood, arms full of clothes and memories, and looked at the walls. Once they were covered with pictures of family, friends, places he had been. Moments that he didn't want to forget. He found it ironic that his memories ended up outlasting the photographs. Sorting through the glass on the floor, he looked for any of those torn pictures on the floor. He stooped and recovered one and began looking for the others.

A strangled door chime interrupted his search. Dunham turned to the door. Of all of the systems that were down, the door chime still worked. Would wonders ever cease? He saw what had triggered the chime. She wore a purple gray jumpsuit and her hair was dark and hung in ringlets. Dunham had assumed that he was the only one on board the Revolution, so he was a little surprised to see another person standing in his doorway. He became vaguely aware that his phaser was attached to his belt. He looked at her, kneeling on one knee, moving through broken items, "Can I help you?"

She squeezed through the doorway, bending over and picking up a picture from a shattered frame, "Here you go," she handed it to him and smiled.

"Thank you, that's one I was hoping to find," said Dunham.

She smiled, and walked through the garbage on the floor with her hand extended. "Deanna Troi."

Dunham shifted his load and shook her hand, "Hendryx Dunham. How did you know I was here?"

She smiled, "I sensed your emotions. You are the only one on board. According to the dock master, neither one of us should be here. She's leaking atmosphere. It's going to take months to repair."

Dunham glowered at her, "You risked your life to bring me that little gem? I don't know how your room looks right now, but I have an idea that you know where your things are. If you haven't noticed, my ship was blasted in combat, and if you don't mind, I'd like to resume finding my life without being nagged about the danger of it all." He turned and dumped his pile of clothing on a table that somehow was still intact.

"Captain Dunham, I am sensing some very strong emotions coming from you. I just want to help." She moved closer, kicking some broken glass out of the way.

Dunham continued to pick up personal items from his destroyed quarters and mumbled, "Really? You can sense that? You must have a gift."

Troi chose to ignore him and instead helped to sift through broken chairs and tables. She found an album of pictures and handed them to Dunham. He took it and opened it to check on their condition. She moved next to him and saw what looked like a family vacation.

"Is that your family?" she asked, attempting to break through to Dunham again.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "No, they came with the book. They were so pretty; I chose to leave them in. Now don't you have something else to do, Princess Obvious?"

Troi took a deep breath and spoke gently, "Captain, I know this is not a pleasant time, and I know you are angry at losing your personal effects. I can tell you are upset, but I can tell you are not particularly upset at me. You are worried and concerned about the state of your ship and your friend. I know you won't admit it, but you're scared. You are overwhelmed with emotions and I think you'd like someone to talk to. Now if you'd just stop being nasty to me, maybe I could be that person. I am the ship's counselor, after all. It's what I do for a living." She raised her eyebrows and managed a small smile.

Dunham sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour. He turned and looked at her. She didn't look that bad, kind of cute, actually. Maybe she could be a person to talk to. If not, he figured, he could just shoot her.

He nodded and gestured toward the picture in the book, "My parents and brother on Tasmania, 10 years ago." A half smile came across his face as he recalled the pleasant memory, "That was just before I went to Starfleet Academy." He trailed off and Troi took the book from him and flipped pages. "We were..."

The moment was broken by the chirp of Troi's communicator, "Counselor, what are you doing over there?" asked Riker.

Troi closed the book and responded, "We are on our way back to the Enterprise, Commander."

Dunham snatched the book from her hands and stuffed it into the bag with his other personal effects. "Yeah, I suppose that was more important to me. Is our session over?" He pushed past her and stalked toward the shuttle bay. Troi looked reproachfully at the communicator and, grabbing a handful of things, hurried along after him.

Picard sat with Penn in the Enterprise's conference room discussing their visitors. "Captain Penn, the loss of Chief Gayheart is one that we will not forget. I have written his family personally."

Penn looked at Picard disdainfully, "Did you tell them how he died? Killed by an overzealous Starfleet captain with an antiquated view of the Klingons?" he sniffed.

Picard shook his head, "Captain Penn, I am surprised. We know nothing, nothing of these people, where they came from, what their situation with the Klingons is, anything. I would hope you would handle this affair with some impartiality."

Penn shifted in his seat as Picard continued; "Now after this battle, we assisted the Revolution. I believe that we proved that we can be trusted and now maybe they will open up to our questions."

Dunham wiped the grime off his forehead and sighed, sitting back on his haunches, wondering how his communications officer could continue crouched over as they had been working on the view screen. The repairs were taking far too long for his taste. He had put in a good three hours working on the bridge alone yesterday and decided to take a break to gather his personal effects from his room. Today, it had taken the two of them almost three hours to install the new view screen and it still wasn't working. He looked at his communications officer, working intently at crossing wires. She was a trooper, he thought. She had been shocked badly by loose wires in the explosion and had just returned from the hospital on Danubus III. The doctors didn't expect much scarring, but it was still a traumatic injury. Dunham remembered that most of his bridge crew was similarly wounded or even dead and wondered what luck he had to survive it all.

Suddenly, the screen exploded in a kaleidoscope of sound and color, and the deafening screech of feedback knocked the communications officer over onto her back. Dunham squinted his eyes and covered his ears, "What the hell just happened? What's the problem?"

The communications officer frantically pushed buttons and turned dials, "Sir, I don't know. It must be the new screen."

Dunham looked at her, "Well, we can't very well go home with the screen doing this. Fix it!" She nodded and continued fine-tuning the screen, "Got it. Captain Picard, on screen sir."

"I'm not into modern art, Lt. I would like to see Captain Picard, not imagine him." Dunham's ears were still ringing from the feedback.

"I have it now, sir." The pixels began to form a face and the whine became a voice, ".... you could join us, Captain?" Dunham assumed that that was the end of his question, "Yes, Captain Picard, I can be over in a couple of minutes." He hoped that was what he had just been asked to do.

The door opened to the conference room and in walked Dunham and Pierpoint. Picard stood to greet them and shook their hands warmly. Penn sat and frowned at them, "Gentlemen, we have gotten in quite a mess here. I believe it is time to clear the slate and begin again." Before Picard could start, Penn interrupted, "We have gone through your computers and downloaded your history. President Pierpoint, there is one event that attracted our attention."

Pierpoint looked amused, "Please continued with your questions, Captain Penn., since you already seem to know all the answers." Dunham coughed to cover a laugh.

Penn avoided eye contact and pushed on his padd, "Does the date July 27, 1947 mean anything to you?" Picard looked at Pierpoint, awaiting his answer.

"That is the date of the Roswell Discovery, when we found out we were not alone in the universe."

Picard, ever the anthropologist, wanted more, "What is the Roswell Discovery?" He leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. Penn didn't look up, but kept typing frantically on his padd. Pierpoint wondered what he was typing and tried to sneak a glance. Penn looked up and tucked his padd closer, shielding it from Pierpoint's sight with his shoulder. Now and then, he'd cast suspicious glances at Pierpoint and type some more. A cartoon image of a bird flashed into Pierpoint's mind and once he had made that mental connection between the scrawny, twitchy Penn with his sharp hooked nose, and the awkward bird cartoon in his mind, it was all he could do to gain composure and not snicker.

Dunham took over for Pierpoint, "A spaceship crashed in Roswell, New Mexico. The crash was released to the news media at the time, causing a worldwide alarm. The surviving crew was rescued and treated for their injuries. They said that they meant the Earth no harm. They were from Berengaria attempting to escape from the Vegan Tyranny when their ship crashed. They wanted to help Earth defend itself from the Tyranny. They helped us study their technology, and we reverse engineered all of their material. With their help, we learned how to use it and better ourselves."

Penn continued to look perturbed, "So this technology you have from the Berengarians, this is a basis of what? Your warp drive?"

Dunham continued, speaking to Picard as if Penn wasn't in the room, "The Berengarian design was the basis of the first warp engine. When the first expedition reached Alpha Centauri, a scientist named Zephram Cochrane helps us refine it. Now I have a question, Captain Penn. Where is this headed?"

Penn pushed through Pierpoint's question, "What was the political situation on Earth in 1947?"

Pierpoint crossed his arms and said sarcastically, "You must already know the answer, Captain Penn. You have studied the downloads, what could I possibly add to what you already know?"

Penn nodded in agreement, and a smug smile came across his face. "President Pierpoint, look at your history. Not two years earlier, you harnessed the destructive power of the atom. By 1950 on your world, you were landing on the moon, and by 1955 you had contacted other races. Nearly 40 years after discovering warp power, you were crisscrossing the galaxy."

"And what is the problem with that?" Dunham couldn't sit quietly any more. He stood and pointed at Penn with an accusing finger. "Forty years after the Wright Brothers flew on your Earth, you had jets. What are you, jealous? Jealous that our Earth found peace and cooperation, hundreds of years before you?" Penn looked shocked and wounded, "Oh, did you think I wouldn't investigate your history? After your Second World War, your world continued petty wars over ideology and territory. On my Earth, the world was unified by 1949, working for the betterment of all mankind, not killing each other over which theory was better, communism or capitalism. Again I ask, Captain, where is this questioning going?"

Penn reached his boiling point, "President Pierpoint, I believe that your Earth discovered warp power and other advanced technologies before you were meant to. Your Berengarian designed engines created this rift between our two universes. President, you and your universe are a danger to my universe. And I would rather have you out of mine."

Pierpoint laughed, "Fine, Penn, fine. We will leave you and your universe to you. I will happily to return to mine."

Penn shoved a padd at Pierpoint, "You and the Poppleton are free to go. The Revolution will stay, she is still not spaceworthy. We will repair her and return her at that time." Dunham leaned forward and looked like he was going to come across the table and hit Penn. Picard moved in front of Penn and held up his hand, "Captain Dunham."

"It sounds to me that my crew are prisoners," Dunham spat. Picard ordered Penn out of the conference room. When he was gone, he sat down with the two men, "Captain, Mr. President, I will personally assure you that the crew of the Revolution will be well cared for and as soon as the Revolution is spaceworthy, they will be returned to you."

Dunham walked down the corridor with stares of the Enterprise crew bearing down on him, "Never seen a human before?", he muttered as he entered Ten Forward. He went to the bar, ordered a drink and sat down at an empty table. He wanted to drown his sorrows and the memories of this day. His ship was too badly damaged to return to his universe, so now he had to trust these people to repair it and send it back. He took his drink and swallowed it all. In the corner sat a group of young officers. Trying not to be too obvious, they looked at Dunham and whispered among themselves. Dunham smiled and raised his glass to them, "fresh from the Academy," he thought. As he lowered his glass the group looked at each other and sent one of their own to join him. Dunham saw the approaching ensign and sighed thinking to himself, "That was a good idea, acknowledge their existence and now they come over here to bother me. Note to self, never be kind to anyone ever again." He wished he had another drink.

"May I join you, sir?" asked the young ensign.

Dunham allowed a small smile, "Certainly, what can I do for you?"

The ensign motioned back to the table to his friends, "We were wondering, sir. Uh, have you seen any combat?" The kid looked uncomfortable, even awkward, as he shifted and fidgeted with his uniform's hem.

Dunham's mood dropped even deeper into depression, "I have seen starships explode in front of my face. I have seen kids younger than you die on planetary battlefields, their atoms scattered back into the universe. I have seen battles; you have always heard the stories of glorious battles and quick victories. It is never like that. Those are the stories they make up to encourage you to go on, to make you seem like the elite and the brave. The truth is that war is bloody and scary and young men like you last fifteen minutes intact on the front lines. Cherish what you have Ensign, it could be taken away from you at anytime." The ensign looked stunned, thanked Dunham, and quietly retreated back to his table. He sat in his chair attempting to compose himself when another drink was set on the table. He looked up to see Deanna Troi smiling at him. "I saw that you could use another drink."

"Thanks." Dunham took a gulp of it and tears filled his eyes as it burned his throat. "Smooth," he rasped as he felt it trace a warm path to his stomach.

"I guess I should have warned you, that it isn't synthehol but the real thing. Guinan keeps a store of the real stuff under the bar."

Dunham gasped and nodded, "That was what?"

Troi went through her thoughts, "I think she called it vodka?"

Dunham nodded, "Well, thank you Counselor. It was nice to see you again," he said dismissively.

Troi sat down beside him, "I could sense that your conversation really upset you."

"It was nothing. It just brought up some old, unpleasant memories."

Troi nodded, "Captain, I realize that a lot has happened to you in the past couple of days."

Dunham looked at Troi, "That's the best you've got?" he said bitterly and returned to his drink.

She smiled and took his hand into hers, "Captain, what matters to you?" she asked quietly, respectfully. She watched for any expression on his face that might mean he wanted her to stay.

"Getting back home. Doing the job that I was sent to do." He looked at his hand lying limply in her hand. He willed it to return, but for some reason, he just left it in her hand. Her hand was warm and it felt friendly. What was he thinking? And yet his hand just stayed there.

"And what happens if you get back home and find it isn't there?" Troi was asking. "Hendryx?"

Dunham looked from his hand to her, "What? Are you talking about the Eugenics Wars of your Earth? Hodgkin's law is such a crock."

She shook her head. "Captain, there's enough evidence that Hodgkin's law of Parallel Planetary Development is true. Otherwise, it wouldn't become a law. It's just a fact that certain events can be found in every parallel world's history. And if that law holds true, your reality could be coming up on the same conflict very soon."

Dunham smiled and patted her hand, "Well, that couldn't happen on my Earth. We have come too far to go back to fighting each other over petty arguments. We also have loyal people, good people, who wouldn't allow something like that to happen."

"Well, Captain, if you do return and find it gone, remember you have other options. Maybe even a start of a new life, if you need to. This place really isn't that bad, remember my door will always be open. You will have a friend here."

She stood up and tugged on his hand to urge him to stand also. She hugged him. Dunham could feel the warmth of her and the care that she was emoting. As much as it surprised him to feel warm feelings to her, he returned the hug in full. It seemed to be something he had needed, something he had been missing for a long time. It felt good to have another person care as she had. And she was growing on him. "Thank you, Counselor," he said in her ear.

She pulled away and corrected him teasingly, "My friends call me Deanna."

Dunham smiled, "Then thank you, Deanna."

She turned and walked towards the doors. Dunham stood there and watched her walk away; smiling. The sound of someone clearing his throat behind him interrupted his thoughts of her. He turned around to find Riker glaring at him, "Sir, I am here to tell you that Commander Stancavich is waiting for you in hanger bay two to take you planet side."

Dunham's smile faded quickly and he nodded, "Thank you, Commander. You've done an excellent job."

He began to walk toward the door, when he felt Riker's hand on his shoulder stop him. "Deanna is a special person to me, Captain. I don't want you to hurt her."

Dunham flipped Riker's hand off his shoulder, spun around and looked at Riker with fire in his eyes, "I don't believe the counselor's life is dictated by you. What she does is her choice, and if you ever touch or talk to me in that manner again, Commander. I will drop you so quick you'll think that you were in a black hole. Is that understood?" Dunham turned from Riker and exited Ten Forward.

Pierpoint stood in a mountain field; all around him trees were changing from their summer green to their fall colors of browns and oranges. A cool breeze blew across the open space and he breathed in deeply. The smell of pine and dew covered grass filled his nose. The silence of the scene was broken by the sound of the holodeck doors opening. "I hope that I am not disturbing you, President Pierpoint."

He turned to see that the visitor to his little recreation of the mountains of Utah was Lt. Commander Rachel Young. "No, Lt. Commander, please join me. It is nice to have someone to enjoy this with. Your holodeck technology is amazing," answered Pierpoint.

Young looked around the scene, "This is Big Bear Lake, outside of Logan, Utah, isn't it?" she asked.

Pierpoint smiled, impressed, and nodded, "Yes, it is. How did you know that?"

Young walked through the grass and found a small flower. She picked it and smelled it, "My parents use to take me here when I was a kid. I loved it."

Pierpoint nodded and moved next to her. They walked in the field taking in all of the beauty of the mountains, "I use to live near this place. Logan is one of the most beautiful places that I know of in the galaxy."

Young nodded in agreement, "Yes, sir, it is."

Pierpoint moved in front of her and extended his hand, "David, Lt. Commander, please. I have heard 'Mr. President' so much I am thinking of resigning when I get back. It sounds too formal."

Young giggled and took his hand, shaking it briskly, "David, I am Rachel."

Pierpoint continued, "So, Rachel, are you from around here?" motioning to the view.

"I was born in Logan, in fact, in fact I think I am the sixth generation to be born in Logan."

Pierpoint looked at her in amazement, "Sixth generation? The entire galaxy was at your family's disposal and they stayed here. That's quite a testament to the place."

They continued to walk toward the trees in the distance, "Here they found a place and laid down roots. My great-great-great-great-great grandmother started the family here. What was her name? Rylant, I think, Lisa? Something like that, anyway," she wondered.

"Leslie Rylant," answered Pierpoint, matter-of-factly.

Young stopped walking and look at him in amazement. "Yes, how did you...? David, you knew her?"

Pierpoint smiled a weak smile, "Yes, I knew a Leslie Rylant on my Earth. In fact we were to be married when the war started, after that I am afraid we drifted our separate ways."

"And that's why you called me Leslie the first time we met," she said, more to herself than to Pierpoint. Young touched Pierpoint on the shoulder as they continued to walk in the glade.

Penn sat anxiously in Picard's ready room. Picard felt he should start conversations, but Penn was distracted. Penn's eyes darted from Picard to the door, to the padd in front of him. He would glance at the Captain, make some notes, read some notes, glance at the door, and then start the cycle again. Rather than disturb this odd sequence, Picard chose to sit in silence. His doorbell chimed. "Come," Picard said, a little less casually than he wanted to.

In walked Young, just back from a long walk and talk with Pierpoint. The two men stood up and Picard motioned for her to sit down, "You asked to see me, sir."

Penn nodded, "Yes, Lt. Commander. I understand that you have befriended President Pierpoint. How, you ask? I have my sources," he said, rather mysteriously. "I want to know the nature of your...friendship with this man." He folded his hands and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

Young nodded, realizing that there was a reason that Penn was one of the best operatives in Starfleet Intelligence, "Yes, sir. I have, and I respectfully ask the relevance of our relationship to your investigation. Why do you ask?"

Picard spoke, "Captain Penn and I believe that we should have an envoy, an ambassador, if you will, return with them to their reality. We believe that you are that person, Lt. Commander. You would return after staying there when the Revolution is finished getting repaired. What do you say?"

"Captain, I would be honored, but don't you think a historian would be a better candidate than me? I have no experience with ambassadorships or clandestine operations, for that matter."

Penn answered that question, "I believe your budding friendship with President Pierpoint is a opening that I would like to use. If we sent someone else, it could create distrust. This is your assignment. Refuse it and you will answer to Starfleet Intelligence. You may have little experience with undercover operations, but I assure you if you do not take this assignment, you will have plenty of experience cleaning out interstellar waste deposits."

Picard looked at Penn, who by this time was leaning forward across the table, eyes wide and sweating. He was obviously worked up by this exchange, and after a moment, retreated to his seat and typed furiously on his padd, again glancing from Young to Picard and back again. This time, Picard made an effort to look at the padd's screen, but was blocked by Penn's shoulder, accompanied by a rather suspicious glare.

Picard cleared his throat and nodded his head toward Young. "Will you take this assignment and be our emissary with Pierpoint and Dunham?"

Young nodded, "Aye, sir."

Pierpoint sat in his ready room, looking at reports from the science team preparing for the trip back through the fissure. The door opened and Young came in. She sat in a chair across from his desk.

"Rachel, this is a surprise. What are you doing over here?"

Young slid a padd across the desk to him. "President Pierpoint, I have been asked by the Federation Council to be an envoy to your reality from this one." She pointed to the padd, "My orders are there and I have been officially assigned to your ship, pending your OK of it, of course, sir." She met his eyes and smiled.

Pierpoint returned the smile and looked over the padd. "Well, it seems that you have everything in order here. Welcome aboard, Lt. Commander."

Pierpoint and Dunham walked onto the bridge together. It was difficult to convince Dunham that leaving the Revolution was the right thing to do. Pierpoint looked across the bridge at his crew, "Today we are going home. Communications, hail the Enterprise." A moment later Picard appeared on the screen.

"Captain Picard, thank you for all of the assistance you have given us over the last three weeks."

"When the Revolution is spaceworthy, Commander Stancavich will bring her back. You have my word on that, Captain Dunham. I wish you luck, sir. It was a pleasure and an honor to meet you and your gallant crews. From the crew of the Enterprise, we wish you Godspeed."

Pierpoint sat aboard the Poppleton and watched as the fissure in space grew bigger on the screen. He looked back at Dunham, who sat in the tactical officer's position. Pierpoint asked, "What is our ETA to the rift?"

Dunham looked up from the screen, "Three minutes."

The ship began to pitch and shake and the helmsman struggled to keep the Poppleton on course. Pierpoint looked back at Dunham, "We just entered the outer edge. This shaking is the temporal shockwaves coming from the fissure." The fissure appeared in front of them, a vortex of swirling clouds colored purple, red and orange. At the center of the vortex was a black hole and what appeared to be lightning flashed across it. Pierpoint turned to his science officer, "What is your analysis, Mearok?"

"Sir, it appears that the current structure of the fissure is stable. There are no fluctuations along the course we will be following."

Pierpoint nodded, "According to theories, when we pass through the fissure we should return to the exact point of time we left, correct?"

Mearok agreed, "According to theory, yes, sir."

Pierpoint looked back at Dunham and smiled. Dunham nodded, "Let's go home."

The Poppleton slipped into the black hole, disappearing into nothingness. The bridge crew of the Poppleton watched as the vortex turned black. It was a very disconcerting feeling: no stars, no light, how would they find their way home, Pierpoint wondered. Just as the darkness increased their sense of dread and feelings of panic began to creep into their minds, small pinpoints began to appear on the screen. Very soon, the screen was full of stars.

"We are beginning to get our sensors back, sir," said Mearok. There was an audible sigh from the bridge crew. Pierpoint hadn't realized how tense he had become until he felt his body relax at the sight of familiar stars.

Dunham began scanning. "I can't get any signals from Starfleet Command or any monitoring stations. The Federation Central Command computer is responding. We are, or were at least, at war, and an entire task force just passed through here but we can't find any warp signatures? This doesn't seem right to me. I don't think we came back at the same time that we left, David."

Pierpoint pondered this new dilemma, "Helm, set a course for Vulcan. They are the closest major Federation outpost, maybe we can get some answers there."

"I just hope we aren't headed right into the heart of Klingon Empire."

"As do I, Hendryx, as do I. ETA with Vulcan?" asked Pierpoint.

The helmsman answered, "Three days, current speed."

Pierpoint got up from his command chair, "Rig for dark running. Mr. Cabot, you have the conn. Captain Dunham and I will be in our respective quarters." Dunham slapped Pierpoint on the back as they got into the turbo lift.

Inside his quarters, Pierpoint tried to stretch out and relax. After all, he had had a very long day and was due for some quiet time. Very soon, he realized there was no way he could sit and stare at darkness. Something was preventing him from napping. Not sure of where he was going, he stepped out of his door, turned right, and started to wander. As he walked the deck, he listened to the conversations of crewmen. They were looking forward to defeating the Klingons and returning home.

"With no contact with the Federation Central Command Computer, we may have no home to return to. I could be driving us right into a trap." Pierpoint thought. When he arrived at his quarters, he saw Young sitting in his chair reading something on the computer screen. She turned to him, "I couldn't sleep. Too excited. I came to visit but you were out. So I thought I would wait here until you got back."

Pierpoint sat down in the chair across from her, "Rachel, have we done the right thing, returning here?"

"What do you mean? I thought you had a mission to complete," she asked.

"From all of our scans of the Danubus system, there were no warp signatures, and our link to the Central Command Computer is down. For all I know, we lost the war and are heading into the jaws of the enemy." He sank further into his seat and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Young stood up, walked behind Pierpoint and began to massage his shoulders. "David, I don't think you should dwell on the negative. Look at the positive. Maybe right now your fleet is winning, driving the Klingons out of your territory and..."

"And what?"

"Just, I don't know. I'm trying to cheer you up," she said. Pierpoint took her hand and gently squeezed it, "I know, thanks." He stood up and took both her hands into his, "I didn't tell you this when you first came on board, but I am glad that you are here."

"Me too."

Dunham got up from his bed and made a personal log entry. He slouched in his chair, hands clasped in his lap, staring out the window into space. He knew he wanted to make the entry, but he couldn't find the precise words. So much had happened, he wanted so desperately to know what had happened at home, but he had to wait. He began an entry several times, but none of them felt right. Some how the words didn't fit. He took a deep breath, concentrated on a distant star and began again.

"Captain's personal log, star date, currently unknown. The central Federation computer link has failed. The attempt to return to our universe has proven successful, but we are unsure what we will find here. I believe that once we return to Earth, the story we tell will be one for the ages. I want to believe that nothing has changed; that we vanished for a spilt second and now we're back before anyone knows that we were gone. I dream of returning to Oceania, back to my home, to my family, to Monica and telling my story over drinks in the courtyard. But I must be realistic. If what happened out there to Picard's Earth happened here, I must be strong enough to face the possibility that all I know and that all I love is dust in the ocean. I have to prepare myself for that, but, God, that will mean...I..." Dunham felt the tears coming so he stopped. What will all of this mean? he thought. All I know, everything and everyone, who ever meant anything to me, all gone? Dead? He closed his eyes. Fiercely, he opened them. He took a deep breath and continued, "I realize what may be, and I must be prepared. But I am a captain, I am an Emperor. Anything I do, any emotion I show will be transferred tenfold to the crew. Whatever happens, I'll make myself strong...but God willing, I won't need to."

Almost as if he could see his words in the air, Dunham sat motionless, staring into the blackness around him. He unclenched his fists and rubbed the sore muscles. He momentarily entertained the thought of returning to bed, but instead decided to watch stars go by and dream of his home in Oceania. He turned again to the window, looked out and said a prayer.