He Stays a Stranger

You're a Mobster

Before you won my heart (baby baby)

You were a perfect guy (where did our love go)

But now that you got me (baby baby)

You wanna leave me behind (baby baby)

Ooh baby (ooh baby baby)

– Diana Ross and the Supremes (Where Did Our Love Go?)

=/\=

Milton Walker sat, alone, in Empress Hoshi's quarters, in 2192. She had left to do ... something. There was a guard outside the door. He was a prisoner. He knew that much. He stared at his own face in a wall mirror. He was, chronologically, a few years older than she was, but of course it was centuries before his real birth date. The face that stared back at him was getting careworn. "You were a philanthropist," he said to himself, "you donated all sorts of services and goods to the research into curing dreaded maladies like Piaris Syndrome and Irumodic Syndrome. People thought you were kind and great, a Santa Claus for hospitals! And then you got the idea that improving and perfecting time would lead to earlier medical breakthroughs. You idiot."

He sighed. "But none of it worked, eh? None of it saved Mom. None of it. And now here you are. You already ordered the death of one agent – Anthony Parker. And an unsuccessful hit on Richard Daniels. You're not a philanthropist, Milton. You're a mobster."

He grabbed one of Hoshi's sashes and turned it over in his hands. "And another thing – the whole idea of making things better for humans, of getting us a lead role in the makeup of the present and future Federation? Where the hell did that go? None of that ever got anywhere!"

The door opened, and a security officer – an older guy – looked in on him. "Something wrong?"

"What the hell do you think?" Walker snarled.

"Look," said Josh Rosen, the security officer, "you are probably gonna be in there for a while. There's no sense in getting testy with me."

"Why not? Can you do something for me?"

"Not with that attitude," Josh said, closing the door.

"Sheesh," Milton said to himself, "I am gonna die here, I can tell. Hoshi is gonna get what she wants from me – or figure out that she can't – and I'm a goner. Prison doesn't seem so awful after all. God, I had all of the past at my disposal and now, suddenly, I have no future."

=/\=

In 3110, the Varg-i-yeh checked Helen Walker's communicator records. "These are most interesting," said the leader, "there are calls to that ship we just destroyed – what was it called again?"

A lackey said, "The Adrenaline. How odd, naming a ship after what is apparently a hormone!"

"Yes, the Adrenaline. And it is comical. There are also calls to another ship in the area. Have they been engaged yet?"

A different lackey checked their version of a PADD. "No. The Saint Eligius has not yet been in battle."

"Is it a war ship?" inquired the leader.

"Far from it," replied yet another lackey, "it is a ship full of wine-making religious figures."

"Ripe for the taking, then," said the leader.

"Leader!" called a lackey, rushing in, "There is news!"

"Come," said the leader to that one. The messenger lackey swallowed hard. That was never good, but obedience was absolutely required.

"Can't the message simply be delivered?" asked the messenger, voice shaking.

"No," said the leader, who then touched the messenger. Because they were different versions of the same being, they merged in a fit of temporal integration. The leader shook for a second, letting the new knowledge settle in. Temporal integration brought with it youth – the two integrated parts became the age of the younger of the merging parties – and the knowledge of both.

"The news?" asked a different lackey. The temporal integration trick had been seen at least a thousand times before. It was not too exciting unless one was on the receiving end. And a Varg-i-yeh did as much as possible to not be on the receiving end.

"Yes, there were some time ships that departed. Most of them used our temporal displacement propulsion system although a few used something else. Apparently dark matter can be harnessed. Have the engineers investigate this. Oh, and that Saint Eligius ship? Destroy it."

"Yes, leader."

=/\=

Donald Oliver was not on the Saint Eligius, but Brother Joseph was, as were a number of other Perfectionist operatives. They melted away as the ship did – the victims of Helen's blundering ways.

=/\=

Carmen stared blankly into space, and then realized that something was flashing, and had been for some time. It was her PADD. There was a message, undoubtedly sent before they'd all departed. She snapped out of it and read it.

Go and fix this. Get back a few days ago; maybe you can stop this thing. – Bryce Unger

=/\=

On May twenty-fifth of 2192, an anniversary party was getting together. It was supposed to just be Lili and Malcolm. And then her son Joss, and his wife, Jia – not to mention the grandson, little Jay – had offered to make them a dinner. But there was a surprise waiting, their son Declan, and he was staying with Melissa's middle son, Neil. He had been brought in by Lili. And her daughter, Marie Patrice, was there, secretly brought over by Malcolm as a surprise for Lili, and was staying with Melissa and Norri. And then they thought everyone was there who was coming, including Neil and his daytime woman, Ines, and their daughter, little Jenny Lee, and even his nighttime woman, a Calafan named Yinora. But there was one more surprise – Joss had arranged to bring in Tommy, Melissa's eldest. His shuttle landed in Joss's back yard, near the two headstones.

But then there was one more surprise, and it was not meant as a part of the celebration at all. For at Point Abic, a space near the thinnest part of the septum between our universe and the mirror, a woman materialized. She did not arrive via transporter but, rather, via temporal enhancer cuff – which she wore on her left wrist. She was unrelated to any of them, but they were nearby and she had no means of getting through the mirror. It seemed an interesting diversion, plus the food smelled good.

And so Helen Walker crashed Malcolm and Lili Reed's tenth anniversary party.

=/\=

Baby, baby (baby baby)

Baby don't leave me (where did our love go)

Ooh, please don't leave me (baby baby)

All by myself (baby baby)

Ooh (ooh baby baby)

Baby, baby (baby baby)

Where did our love go?

– Diana Ross and the Supremes (Where Did Our Love Go?)