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"It would have been nice if I'd been informed that I was taking a trip to the Delta Quadrant," Grandma says. My parents have just informed her of our imminent mission. They waited until after dinner at which time there was no way around dealing with Grandma's protestations.
"Mother, it's a little difficult to inform you of anything when you show up without warning," Mother responds. "We will be staying in the Delta Quadrant for at least a month. You will just have to settle aboard the Enterprise for the duration. Betazed is in the opposite direction of our travel plans." I'm amazed by how eager she seems, given the Akodian technology's effect on her. She must take a drug called gerrapiam regularly in order to counter the emotional effects.
Father growls at the thought of having his Mother-in-law around for several weeks and mumbles something about putting up with her meddling.
"A Grandma has the right to spend time with her grandchildren."
"As long as it doesn't interfere with their schooling," Mother counters. "Eric may still only be in daycare, but he needs to spend time with other children."
This reminds everyone of my situation. I do not want to give Father the chance to reinforce my need to make friends my own age. "But there still will be plenty of time to spend together since you will be staying for so long. People are gathering in Ten-Forward to watch the pocket expand. You will join us, won't you, Grandma?"
"Of course, dear." Grandma smiles at me sweetly. She then turns back toward Mother and adds, "If I must remain here for the duration, then I'm not going to miss out on all the pleasures of being a grandparent."
"I'm not going to take away your grandmotherly privileges, Mother, and neither is Worf. But we all must abide by limits. You may join us in Ten-Forward tonight."
I have never seen Ten-Forward this crowded! All the seats are taken and at least as many more people are left standing. Not minding at all, I insinuate myself through the crowd toward the large viewwindow. My parents head in another direction to talk with some friends. Eric tries to follow me, but Mother clutches his hand, insisting that he is too young to wander off. He begins to throw a fit. What a baby! I think, trying to place lots of distance between us.
Although I know I shouldn't, I feel possessive of the wormhole.
Perhaps it is effecting me in a far greater way than it ever did Mother. Grandma Lwaxana comes to stand beside me. "My, isn't it beautiful?" she asks.
I know it is her first encounter with one of the pockets, and so I assume she doesn't completely understand how they work. "Grandma, did you know that when a starship enters a pocket before it can reach the other side, it must first travel through a larger wormhole that serves as a bridge?"
"Really? This alien technology seems more and more complicated."
"Yes, there are now three of the large Akodian wormholes in existence to channel the traffic from all the pocket wormholes."
"Then answer this: How does one prevent any collisions from occurring in these giant wormholes?
Do they have some way of monitoring when the individual pockets are being accessed?"
"Each pocket is built with a detector system that scans the passageways and automatically adjusts the ship's velocity."
"My, what an educated little girl you are."
"That is how Data explained it to me. The decrease in speed is so minimal that no one realizes it--unless you're an android. It’s as safe as a transporter, too." I wish Data could be here now, but as first officer, his place is on the bridge during this crucial moment. "Do you like Data, Grandma?"
"Well, I've never disliked him."
I sense the implication that she had disliked others, perhaps Father among them. "Do you still not like my Father?"
"Oh dear...."
Our conversation is interrupted by the sudden rush of the warp engines. All conversation stops as the crowd watches the pocket open up and swallow the Enterprise. For a few seconds, I feel as though I am almost becoming one with the wormhole and then suddenly we are on the other side at a point near the Alpha/Delta Quadrant border.
The chatter begins anew as everyone discusses the thrilling journey. Although I share their excitement, I know that the real journey has only begun. For there is much out there, and I am as eager as any Starfleet officer to explore it.
Grandma clutches at her stomach, and says, "I must say that that was quite an exhilarating experience."
"Maybe you are glad now that you came along for the ride?"
Smiling, Grandma takes my hand into hers.
I know the bridge crew is scanning for any sign of Voyager. While I anxiously await the results, I sit at the bar of Ten-Forward drinking papaya juice. I wish I could be on the bridge right now, listening to every order and watching every action.
Grandma joins me and also orders a papaya juice. I sense that she is as anxious as I am, but something more is bothering her. I don’t think she likes being in the Delta Quadrant much. Imagine what it must be like for the Voyager crew,” she says, “stranded far from home all these years in completely unfamiliar territory. It’s a miracle they’ve escaped Borg assimilation.” “Starfleet records seem to indicate that they’ve managed quite well, I reassure her. However, being a Klingon aboard a ship of mostly humans, I can relate to their dilemma.?
She brings her hand to my chin and smiles. “You’re a resilient little girl. But that doesn’t mean you should have to put up with any ridicule. You’d tell your Grandma if anyone gave you trouble, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not in any trouble now. The other children don’t like me. I’ve avoided them since Mother took me out of school. Problem solved.”
“Ah, Little One, avoiding a problem doesn’t solve it. I know this from personal experience.? I sense deep sadness within her as old memories come forward. ?Then again, it’s not so easy changing the opinion of others, is it?”
“No, it is not,” I say, relieved that Grandma understands my plight.
“Tell me, would you like the chance to get away from this starship for a while? You could spend a few months on Betazed with me.”
“I’d love to, but my parents would never agree. Besides, I’ve obligated myself to the current mission. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on a starship, but I must admit that I’m intrigued by the mysterious Delta Quadrant.” “Home of the Borg.”
So that’s what has Grandma so anxious.
“Promise me something, Shannara: No matter what anyone asks of you if given the choice between allowing this crew to become assimilated and using your Q powers to prevent it, you will stop assimilation.”
Before I can respond, Mother walks through the doors of Ten-Forward. I lean toward Grandma and whisper, “Of course, Grandma.”
Mother approaches us and sits down beside me. “Long range scanners did not detect Voyager,” she says.
That means Voyager is most likely more than seventeen light years from our present location. But in which direction? “We’ll just go through the next pocket and try again,” I respond.
“The captain has decided that we should gather as much data as possible on this region of space as we make our way across it. Would you like to assist Dekanter with updating the star maps?”
“I will. As long as it doesn’t take up too much of my time. Can’t have all work and no play.” I pick up my papaya juice and blow bubbles through the straw.
“That’s right!” Grandma agrees with surprise.
Mother looks at both of us oddly. “She’ll only need you an hour or two a day. You do have other subjects to study with Data and time for play.”
*****
Traveling at warp 5, it will take the Enterprise eleven days to reach the next pocket wormhole about six light years away. The bridge crew will continue scanning for Voyager in hopes they are moving toward us. As promised, I spend a while each day helping Dekanter, though the excitement stellar cartography once offered me is quickly wearing off. There are several star and planet types as well as numerous other special bodies to catalogue and yet it quickly becomes mundane to me.
I bring this up to Data in hopes he will have a solution. It’s not that it wasn’t challenging in the beginning,” I tell him. ?I guess I don’t like routine much.”
“Perhaps you would prefer to be taken off this project all together,? he suggests. ?I am sure your father would be relieved. He has not been pleased about the Akodians interest in you.”
“What has he said to you?” Father has seemed supportive of me lately and hasn’t even mentioned the Akodians to me. Has this been out of fear?
“I should not be telling you this. I do not wish to be the instigator of a family dispute. However, I am sure enough ideas are already forming in your mind. Your father wishes you were an average child, so neither the Akodians nor Q would be interested in you. He views your high intellect as a curse which prevents you from living a normal life.”
Although Data is speaking of my life, I can’t help wondering whether Father feels I’m a burden on his life and on Mother’s and Eric’s as well. If I were to disappear, would they so easily adjust? “I’ll continue working with Dekanter for now,” I say. “Please don’t tell my parents about this conversation. They would be hurt if they knew that I know.”
“Understood.”
*****
That evening over diner, I say very little to my parents. Usually, I speak of my findings in stellar cartography or about my sessions with Data. I feel no desire to continue a routine that has become all too familiar. I desire change. If only I had an idea of what I want. “We’ve encountered a couple space faring races in this region,” Mother tells me. “Perhaps you would be interested in reading the log entries.”
“They have not encountered Voyager,” Father adds.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean that Voyager isn’t passed this region,” I say. “We can’t logically eliminate any region from this. It only means that they haven’t traveled across this particular space or at the least that they are not here now.”
“Of course not,” Father says gruffly. “We were merely filling you in. If you would rather not be kept apprized of what happens on the bridge, then we will no longer discuss it with you. Would you like to resign from your project in stellar cartography as well?”
“May I be excused to my room?” I don’t want to answer his question! I sense that he is disappointed in me, not because I’m being overly presumptuous or that I’ve failed in any way, but because I’m too intuitive.
Reluctantly, Father nods.
As I step into my room, I call out, “Computer, explain a normal child to me.”
“Please define parameters of normal,” the computer inquires.
“I wish I knew. Computer, how many children are aboard this starship?”
“108.”
“Excluding myself, what is their average IQ?”
“Insufficient testing has been conducted.”
Sighing, I sit down on the edge of my bed. Of course not, I think. There’s been no reason to conduct extensive tests on the other children. Q has never shown an interest in them. Why am I so lucky?
“That’s very interesting, wouldn’t you say?” Dekanter asks, peering over my shoulder at the viewscreen inside stellar cartography. I’ve just located a dwarf star that, while barely larger than any planet we’ve encountered, is radiating a massive amount of heat. A small planet, with a pre-warp civilization of over one billion, orbits it at a distance of one hundred seventy-two million miles.
“You don’t suppose it’s about to go supernova, do you?” I ask.
“No.” She verifies some data on the console. “It’s stable.”
Captain Riker has deemed this system significant enough to fall into its orbit for two hours to allow Dekanter and I time to study it.
I watch the planet moving slowly across its orbit and wonder what its people think of the universe. Are they even aware that anything else exists beyond their own world? If I didn’t know life could be any different than it is aboard a starship then maybe I wouldn’t feel so discontented by it.
“How many one-planet solar systems have we encountered?” I ask.
“Not many,” Dekanter replies. “How many rare or anomalous facts do you suppose the computer has verified about this system?”
I imagine there are several. Otherwise, Dekanter would not be asking me. “It’s rarities include its size, only 5,127 kilometers in diameter; only one orbital body; and the closest asteroids or comets are more than a light year distance.”
“And?”
I think carefully before responding. “How old is this star?”
“Good guess. Our scans show that the star is less than five million years old.”
“Wow. It’s just a baby in astronomical terms. Its anomalies are the massive amount of heat it produces. If the single planet were any closer, it would not sustain life. Fortunately, it has a thin enough atmosphere to allow the heat to escape. And the star has a strong gravitational pull, which makes it seem odd that it has attracted no asteroids or comets.”
“Well done. Would you like to name the star?”
“Name it?”
“You discovered it. You should have that honor.”
The only thing I’ve ever named are my pet mice. Sam and Al were easy, simple names to come up with. But what does one name a star? “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to decide right away. We can give it a catalogue number for now and wait until we turn the official report into Starfleet before giving it an official name.”
I nod, feeling a bit perplexed by my dilemma. Naming something shouldn’t be that difficult.
“Unless there’s any more you’d like to study about this system, I think we’re done here,? Dekanter says. I shake my head and she pages Captain Riker to brief him on our findings and to let him know we’re ready to resume our course to the pocket.
Afterward, she excuses me and I leave heading for my quarters. When I step inside my bedroom, I find Q lying on my bed. He leans forward against his elbows.
“A simple little star, a baby inside the cosmos,” he says. “Destined to be nameless, because one girl refuses to broaden her horizons and consider the possibilities.”
“I do not!”
“Then name the star.”
“Q-less!” I snap.
“Very funny. Q might even appreciate the irony of that. After all, it was his idea to create this system.”
“Oh really? Then why hasn’t he named it?” A stupid question. I have no way of knowing that he hasn’t.
“Irrelevant. Your precious Federation will not care what Q has named it. You, however, they view as their prodigy child.”
“I thought you were the one who saw me that way.”
“Tsk. Tsk. You are a most stubborn little girl.”
“Look who’s talking about being stubborn. You could tell me where Voyager is right now and end our search.”
“Janeway wouldn’t grant me one simple request in exchange for an instant return to her precious Earth. Why should I help her now?”
“You’ve been aboard Voyager?!” I shouldn’t find it so hard to believe that Q has interacted with the Voyager crew and refused to send them home. How many stories have I heard about the games he likes to play from the Enterprise crew? How many times has he played games with me?
“Yes. They released Q, who had been placed in captivity for protection..against himself. I had to intervene. The existence of the Continuum was at stake.”
“And that was the only time you visited Voyager?”
“Well, actually no.” Q looks at his hand as though he has dirt under his fingernails. “Kathy helped me stop a bloody battle inside the Continuum. I was quite grateful to her.”
“But you still didn’t send them home.”
“I felt she needed the challenge. It helped give her and her puny little crew some backbone.”
I sense there is something he’s not telling me, but I can’t figure out what. “Is that why you play games with us mortals?”
He waves a finger at me. “Uh-uh. I gave you immortality.”
“Don’t change the subject!”
He shrugs. “Kathy needs to find her own way home...as do you.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
Q smiles like a chestier cat. “You’ll find out.” He Q-flashes out of my room.
*****
The following morning, I meet up with Data so he can go over my assignments in trigonometry and literature. I’ve been reading some classical stories from various cultures and writing up comparative analysis. Many races actually have similar beliefs on family values, religion and other aspects of their culture, but sometimes even minor differences can cause conflicts. Books from one culture have often been banned by another. I wonder what type of stories circulate through the Continuum and how they must laugh and mock those of lesser races.
“Do you feel you’ve read from enough different cultures to offer an accurate analysis?”
“Fairly so. I am curious, though, whether the Continuum has any literature. Q visited me yesterday to make a big deal about the dwarf star I discovered. Ever since I spoke with him, I’ve been wondering, since everyone inside the Continuum is known as Q, whether they bother naming things or writing anything down.”
“Quite doubtful,” Data replies. “Most likely, they are capable of communicating about places and things without names, much as they are able to refer to one another as all being Q. It is possible that they have a number of verbal folk tales that have been circulating for millions of years. I would be intrigued to know if Q has ever shared one with you.”
I try to imagine Q telling a bedtime story and can only envision him offering up one riddle after another, a series of conundrums to challenge the limits of my knowledge and intuitiveness. ?I doubt he ever will,? I answer. “If I ask, he’d probably try to trick me into weaving a tale of my own.”
“Hmm. Intriguing.”
*****
When I learn that we are nearing the next pocket, I return to my bedroom to watch from my viewwindow. Much of the off-duty crew is gathering in Ten-Forward again, but I feel like spending some time by myself. The Enterprise is following a course I helped plot and the longer it takes to locate Voyager, the more discouraged and bored I feel about Stellar Cartography.
I cannot see the pocket when it’s closed, but I sense it drawing nearer. The empathic echoes emanating from it are very strong. I try to filter some of them out inside my mind and wonder if Voyager has passed near enough to leave any imprints.
Then the ship makes contact with the pocket and a brilliant white light fills my view as the pocket quickly expands to allow the Enterprise passage through.
Suddenly, a blown up image of q appears outside my window. He waves a finger at me and says, “ah-ah. Wrong way.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe that even he has waited until we’ve traveled over six light years before telling me I’ve plotted the wrong course.
“Damn you, Q!” I scream. ?Come here then and tell me where Voyager is!”
As the Enterprise exits on the other side of the wormhole, Q flashes into my bedroom.
“Go back the way you came. Travel 16.3 light years. You’ll find another pocket wormhole there.”
“Yes, as the star maps tell me. Is that where we will find Voyager? On the other side?” I am learning never to make assumptions when dealing with Q.
“It could send you in the right direction.”
I wave my arms in frustration. “Fine. If that’s all you’re going to tell me, then leave. Go bug someone else in the cosmos. I’ll try to find Voyager on my own.”
Q smiles facetiously at me, folds his arms and looks at me as though I’ve already hit on the answer. His games really annoy me at times. Why can’t he ever be straightforward about anything?
“I’m going to Stellar Cartography,” I announce, assuming he will not follow me. “I need to run some projections before I tell the captain we have to retrace eleven days’ travel.”
“You don’t need Stellar Cartography to verify that.”
“I’m not taking your word for it!? I leave my room not caring whether he stays, flashes out or follows me. I am determined to win at his game...just as soon as I figure out the rules.
Stellar Cartography is empty when I arrive. I bring up our current coordinates and run simulated routes for Voyager based on Q’s claim. How likely is it that their route veered several light years from my original projection? I offered only an educated guess and so I could have overlooked something. Something perhaps only Q would know.
“Any Q should know,” I mutter to myself. Suddenly, I realize what Q was trying to intimate. I tap into the power of the Q and my vision of the star map becomes cloudy as I focus on an image forming in my inner mind. Now I know exactly where to find Voyager.
