The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
Prologue: Endgames
The deaths of mortals are the worst, he decided as he rode the tide of energy that beckoned-with the brutally beautiful and seductive death-cry of billions-to this small, run-down pocket universe he’d never really taken notice of before.
Of course he’d known it was there … he’d always known it was there, and in the instant between thoughts, he knew everything about this little wretched corner of the multiverse as he slipped across the dimensional barrier. Only a handful of old, decaying galaxies spun lazily, accelerating molasses-like from the multiverse nodal flashpoint that had spawned this wretched little abortion of a universe.
The Boy Who Was Not A Boy stopped short as the knowledge of who had created this little playground-and for what purpose-assaulted him now. No wonder these deaths had called to him.
“Father!” he shouted angrily, although “anger” could barely touch the surface of the multitude of suns roiling in the core of his being, and “shout” was not exactly the right word for the burst of primordial energy he sent careening through the multiverse into that nether-place that connected them all. The Continuum.
“Father!” he called again.
“What now?” came the irritated voice a moment before his parental being flashed into existence next to him, wearing a familiar red and black uniform. Then taking a look around, his father said, “Oh.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Well, what do you expect me to say?” his father replied sarcastically.
“Look at it, Q!” the boy raged.
“I know, they’ve really let the place go,” the older being replied trying for levity and failing miserably under his son’s glare.
“What?” he said, seeking refuge in irritation. “It’s not like it was my fault … this time. If I remember correctly, the Continuum had banished me to the primordial ooze of Celtuxis Five for my crimes against the Dendul, which led to the premature rise of the Calamaraine and eventually wiped out those dreadfully dull little creatures. I was hardly in any position to pay much attention to the messes Trelane got himself into.”
His son increased the intensity of his glare. “I assumed that the other Q took care of it when they punished Trelane,” he said in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that they’d left the damned thing running!”
“They are not things,” the boy Q said tightly as he watched the thermonuclear carnage envelope the star nation of twelve worlds, while their defenders scrambled to meet the enemy. “They’re human beings.”
The boy felt his father’s surprise at the tears that sparkled on the cheeks of his human facade.
“This iteration of his game has been running for over four millennia relative to this universe’s timeframe,” he said hoarsely.
“Well that’s easy enough to take care of,” his father replied, lifting his hand to snap his fingers.
“No!” the boy shouted in outrage, watching the humans throw themselves valiantly against the tides and tides of machines that infiltrated the very technologies they’d tasked to protect them. But here and there, small pockets of humanity survived … by hiding … by running … by fighting back!
“The endgame has begun,” he continued.
“And it will conclude like all the other iterations,” his father said impatiently. “Why not just end it now? They’ve been through so many cycles and sub-cycles of this … lived so many lives that they barely know who or what they are about anymore. By ending it now, you’d probably be doing them a kindness.”
“And yet they endure,” the boy said, admiration evident in his voice. “The spirit of who they are endures. Can the same be said of the Q if put through such horror over and over … lifetime after lifetime of such abuse? I dare say, Father, the only Q with the imagination and empathy great enough to possibly comprehend this abomination, stared into the face of that same abyss and committed suicide … and you helped him do it.”
Q regarded his son thoughtfully. “They’ll still lose,” he said at last, as the pitifully few human ships huddled in the safety of the magnetic storm and the shadow of the weapons depot they’d hidden there. “The machines have the clear advantage. It’s a war of attrition now and they hold all the cards. If the humans run, they will only lead their executioners back to their origin like all the other times-and then humanity really will end in this pathetic, little backwater universe, for the Continuum will permit no more iterations.”
An unholy light flared in the young Q’s eyes.
“I know that look,” his father said with a sly grin. “What are you cooking up in that devious, immortal mind of yours, Junior?”
“We level the playing field,” Q Junior said angrily.
Q frowned at him. “The Continuum won’t allow such meddling,” he said. “We either end it now or allow it to run its course. The restrictions placed on Trelane apply to all Q now.”
“And the Continuum was supposed to stop all his experiments!” Junior said hotly. “Each pocket universe was supposed to be wiped clean of his traces and allowed to run its course in space-time, merging time streams where necessary or branching and budding new universes into the multiverse. So why then is this one still cycling? Why hasn’t it spawned its own branching along a space-time trajectory? It’s still following the same predestination paradigm Trelane set it on, starting from the endpoint of the last iteration and his fingerprints are still all over it. The only difference now is that he’s left his proxy to do his dirty work-make sure the train stays on the same bloody track! Well, I say we throw a monkey wrench into the works and derail this train once and for all! And I know just the woman to do it-”
“No!” It was Q’s turn to shout in outrage.
“Why not?” Junior demanded. “Aunt Kathy and her merry band of misfits are the perfect solution to this mess,” he said with an impish grin.
Q smirked. “Even if you could get the Continuum to agree, I doubt that our beloved Kathy would give up her cushy new job as a Starfleet Admiral, not to mention leave her beloved alpha quadrant, which she fought so hard to get back to, in order to come to this dreary little pocket of the multiverse and help save this rapidly dwindling twig of humanity.”
“She would if it meant saving her crew-giving them another chance at life,” his son replied.
“You were supposed to get rid of them!” Q snarled, turning on his son in sudden fury as he realized what the young Q was thinking. “You have no right to mess around with a Fundamental Time Stream’s trajectory through the multiverse. You could destroy it completely!”
“I know,” Junior replied with some asperity. “I’m not an idiot, Dad. They have been allowed to go a-coherent. I haven’t tampered with them. But we both know that it’s fairly simple to take them at the instant of a-coherence and drop them into this universe. That’s what I think we should propose to the Continuum.”
Q Junior saw the respect in his father’s eyes … his entire being … and knew that he had persuaded him.
“You don’t like the thought of any version of your Aunt Kathy dying, do you?” Q asked with sudden gentleness.
“No,” the young Q replied sadly.
“Neither do I,” his father admitted.
“It wasn’t fair,” the young immortal continued as the human leaders of the little rag tag fleet came together, in a room of illusions, to stare up at the jewelled constellations that hung above the ring of standing stones.
“To do everything right … to come so close to the threshold of home and fail … it wasn’t fair,” he repeated. “Dad, she knew; in that instant before death, she knew she’d failed completely. But it wasn’t her fault; it was the universe that wouldn’t allow her to succeed. It was … horrible.”
“As horrible as a universe that won’t allow these people to win,” Q said.
“Yes.”
“All right, son, let’s go take on the Continuum,” Q said in resignation. “Your mother’s going to kill me.” Junior erupted with laughter as they winked out of existence.
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To Chapter 1