"Then why is there a problem?" asked the mutant. "Can you not use that timehook to help us?"
"Actually," he said, "we shipped it off to Starfleet Command on Earth, for testing. As it happened, it was then sent back to the Enterprise. But war with our enemies broke out and ... well, a few things were misplaced. The timehook was one of them."
"But ... can it be still be retrieved?" she asked.
"I do not believe that will be a stumbling block," the captain told her. "It is simply a matter of tracking it down." He paused. "On the other hand, there may be a problem with your using it. You see, if the other timehooks failed to work for you, there is every possibility this one will fail as well."
Storm nodded soberly. "I see."
"When the admiral first notified us of your presence in our universe," Picard said, "we speculated that our timehook had somehow dragged yours along with us. However, you would then have appeared at the same point in time and space that we did."
She sighed. "And you probably appeared light years away from Starbase 88."
"Light years in space," he confirmed. Then he imparted the bit the woman would undoubtedly find more jarring. "And nearly twelve months ago, Federation standard time."
Storm looked at him, surprised. "Twelve months? You mean ..."
"It has been nearly a year since we returned to our timeline," the captain explained, as gently as he could.
The mutant shook her head, appearing to wrestle with the concept. "So you haven't seen us for quite some time ... though it seems to me as if I saw you the day before yesterday."
"Indeed," said Picard.
Storm grunted softly. "No doubt, you were surprised to hear from us."
"I was," the captain agreed. "Though to be honest, I often found myself thinking about you."
He realized how that must have sounded and felt his cheeks flush. It was not a pleasant sensation.
"That is," he added quickly, "about your group. To be honest, I had never encountered anyone quite like you."
The mutant took a sip of her tea, her blue eyes gleaming with reflected light. "As much as a man like you must have encountered, I imagine that is saying a lot."
It was-but that didn't make it any less true. In all his years of space exploration, Picard had never come across anything exactly like Storm-or, for that matter, her fellow X-Men.
Then, on his way back from a confrontation with the Borg in Earth's 21st century, the captain had found himself embroiled in a scheme by someone named Kang the Conqueror to disrupt established timelines-not only the one to which Picard himself belonged, but also the one where the X-Men fought oppression and injustice.
With the mutants' help, the captain and his crew had crossed timelines to thwart Kang's scheme. Then, using the villain's own timehook device, they had returned to their proper time and place. The X-Men had employed Kang's timehooks as well-with very different results, it seemed.
Picard leaned forward in his seat. "Rest assured, Storm, we will do everything in our power to find a way to get you home-and to do so as expeditiously as possible. Even without the timehook devices, there are other methods ... other options at our disposal. However, finding the right one will require your cooperation."
"Ororo," she said.
He looked at her, puzzled by her response. "I beg your pardon?"
"My name is Ororo," she told him. "Storm is just my nom de guerre."
The captain smiled. "Ororo, then." He resisted inviting her to call him Jean-Luc. "As I was saying, we will require your cooperation if we are to help you. We need to determine why the Enterprise returned to its programmed time and place and your X-Men did not."
"What sort of cooperation did you have in mind?" she asked.
"Dr. Crusher and Commander La Forge would like to conduct some tests," Picard explained. "They will be painless, of course. But with any luck, they will tell us why you were deposited in our timeline."
The mutant thought for a moment. "I cannot say I love the idea," she said, "but I do not think these tests will pose a problem."
The captain nodded. "Good."
Storm glanced at one of the observation ports, where she could see stars streaking by. "Do you deal with things like this all the time?" she wondered. "Cross-temporal anomalies and such?"
"More often than I would like," Picard admitted.
She turned to him again, able to joke despite her team's plight. "Then whatever they pay you, it is not enough."
"Since we aren't paid, as such, certainly not," he said.
The mutant glanced at the observation port again. "We are moving at a considerable rate of speed. I take it you have been assigned a mission."
"Only in the broadest sense. I have been asked to attend a planning meeting on another starbase. It pertains to an ally of our Federation known as the Klingon Empire."
"Commander Worf's people?"
"The same," the captain told her, pleased that she had made the connection. "Fortunately, neither Dr. Crusher nor Commander La Forge will be involved in the planning meeting, so your problem will not be neglected. In any case, I hope you and your comrades will make yourselves comfortable while you are here."
"Thank you," Storm replied. "You are very kind."
For a second or so, neither of them spoke. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence by any means. Strange as it seemed, Picard felt as if he had known the woman all his life.
"May I ask you a question?" she said at last.
"By all means," he responded.
The mutant leaned forward. "Do you never get lonely here, so far from the planet of your birth?"
The captain shook his head. "Not at all. I chose this life. In fact, I aspired to it." He smiled. "Nothing gives me more pleasure than traveling from star to star, seeing what no one has seen before."
She smiled, too. "I cannot say the same."
"And why is that?" he asked.
"I have a bond with Earth's biosphere," Storm explained. "It is an essential component of my mutant powers. I find it ... difficult to be away from Earth for too long."
Picard regarded her. "You would have gotten along with my brother, Robert," he said.
She tilted her head to one side. "Would have?"
"He perished in a fire," the captain told her. "Along with my nephew. It took me a long time to accept their loss."
Silence again. And again, it was Storm who ended it.
"I know what it is like to lose people close to you. I lost my parents when I was very young."
Picard saw the pain in the woman's eyes. "It must have been hard for you to go on."
"It was," she answered frankly. "Very hard. Even as an adult, I have nightmares about it."
The captain was surprised to see how vulnerable Storm could allow herself to be. To this point, he had seen her only as a warrior and a leader. Now he saw the lonely child in her as well, and he felt privileged to have the opportunity to do so.
Her eyes seemed to lose their focus. "How lovely," she said.
Picard didn't understand. "To what are you referring?"
Storm pointed to the Ressikan flute he kept on his desk. A small, simple instrument made of a tinlike material, it was one of the few personal items he had been able to salvage from his quarters on the EnterpriseD.
She turned to him again. "Do you play it?"
The captain nodded. "On occasion. I love the music that comes out of it-but it represents another tragedy, I'm afraid. The death of a civilization on a planet called Kataan."
"You mourn the death of an entire civilization?" Storm asked.
"In a way," he said. "You see, when the people of Kataan were dying, they wanted desperately to be remembered-so they sent out a space probe containing the memories of an ironweaver named Kamin. As it happened, I was the one who received Kamin's memories, as well as the flute and the knowledge of how to play it."
She looked at him. "There is more."
"More?" Picard asked, surprised.
"Yes. Something about the flute you have not mentioned."
Suddenly, he realized what she was talking about. "I had ... a friendship with someone a few years ago. She played an instrument as well. We enjoyed participating in duets."
Funny, the captain thought, how dry he managed to make it sound. How lifeless. But then, he was unaccustomed to opening up to someone as he was opening up to the mutant.
"You no longer have these ... duets?" Storm asked. It wasn't so much a question as an observation.
"No longer," he said. "Our careers got in the way of our ...
"Friendship?" the mutant suggested, using Picard's word for it.
"Yes. I found I could not act effectively as her commanding officer and care for her at the same time."
Storm digested the remark. "Leaders seldom enjoy stable relationships. It is one of the burdens one must bear when one assumes responsibility for the lives of others."
"So I learned," the captain responded.
"Except ..." she said.
He looked at her. "Except?"
Storm returned his scrutiny for what seemed like a long time. At last, she shook her head.
"Nothing," she told him at last. "Sorry. I did not mean to pry so into your personal life."
Rising, she picked up her cup and saucer and returned them to the replicator slot. Then she turned to Picard and smiled.
"Thank you again," Storm said. "For everything."
The captain stood, too. "It is nothing," he assured her.
With a last glance at him, she crossed the room and left through the sliding doors. A breeze seemed to attend her, making her hair and her garments undulate in response.
Picard sat back in his chair and sighed. He would have given much to know what thought Storm had declined to finish.
Chapter Seven.
HIS ARMS FOLDED across his chest against the late-afternoon chill, Erid watched the shadows lengthen in the fortress's yard. They had already reached the opposite wall and climbed halfway up its stone surface.
Soon, the guards would call down to the transformed and send them back to their rooms. It was difficult enough to keep an eye on the growing prisoner population during the day; at night, it would be nearly impossible. At least, that was how the transformed interpreted the situation.
Suddenly, Erid experienced an unexpected sensation. He felt as if someone were whispering in his ear, though he couldn't see anyone within several meters of him.
And it wasn't exactly a whisper. True, there were words in his head, but they seemed to manifest themselves without sound.
"Don't be afraid. My name is Paldul."
Erid looked around. He saw the youth with the green pockmarks in his forehead sitting among some of the other transformed. The others were talking, but Paldul didn't seem to be listening to them. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly.
"Yes," Erid thought. "I know your name. I heard someone say it the day you arrived here."
"And yours?" asked the telepath.
"Erid. Erid Sovar."
"Pleased to meet you, Erid." There was an undercurrent of something like humor. "I'll bet you've never spoken with your mind before."
"That's true," Erid replied.
"Neither did I," said Paldul, "before my transformation. Now, I do it quite a bit. Every chance I get, in fact."
"How many others have you spoken with?" Erid inquired. "Here in the fortress, I mean?"
"Almost everyone," Paldul told him. "Except for Mollic, of course."
"Mollic?" Erid had never heard the name before.