The End of the Circle

It is to my deepest regret that we deem the test subject's treatment unsuccessful. Part of Mr. Kirk’s psyche seems to reside in another world. The would be case of a misplaced identity crisis. I'm afraid he is beyond the help and care of our staff and facility. It is my intent for him to be locked down, and kept away from society.

Humanity can never be allowed to interact or be influenced by his madness as they would be unprepared if what he says is even remotely the truth. Always is he to be under intense supervision for much of his insane bouts and aberrations seem to be playing out in the real world. Much of the depiction’s he cries out during the nights of a full moon’s cycle indicate a cataclysmic end to civilization.

It has been our observational conclusions that James Kirk has been under the influence (using his words) by another "Great Race." Through rigorous testing, we are unable to fully account for his strangely vivid dreams and vociferous nocturnal outbursts - the adventures of his subconscious mind, which serve to trouble and disturb him so deeply.

With the unconfirmed accounts of witchcraft and the occult the passion and obsession with news coverage as of late, l feel not the desire to put wholly his delusionary hallucinations into words. The following however, is a transcript the aforementioned subject demanded be taken down, and sent to a Dr. Indiana Jones, professor at Miskatonic University. Subject claims it is some sort of entry log. It is interesting to note that these excerpts are written in the form of quatrains. It has been determined by unanimous decision that we have no intention of complying to his wishes...at this time.

Paris immediately noticed the strange course setting they were suspiciously traveling and called Tuvok on it. He even went as far as aiming a phaser at the Vulcan in front of all the bridge crew.

Janeway got out of her seat and took up a position between the two in an attempt the settle the dispute.

"Not this time, Captain, I think our Vulcan friend here has a bit of explaining to do...."

"You are already somewhat aware of my explorations of the planet Z'ha'dum during my tour of duty on Excelsior, under the command of Captain Sulu. Even as we speak, I am recalling more and more events which occurred on that dreadful planet...and things are becoming frightfully more clear."

Tuvok staggered, but caught himself as he raised the palms of his hands to the sides of his head as if in an effort to cry out. But that was not his way.

"We must go to Z'ha'dum...where the shadows lie...Z'ha'dum is the gateway to Their domain. It is the focal point of Their return. An evil horror waits to envelop us if we do not heed this warning as something has summoned the terrible, blasphemous spaces Outside our reality.”

“Indeed. The timeguardian is not is as who he seems. Avalon, Sauron, Nyarlathotep...the Trickster, messenger of the other gods, one in the same.”

"I realize many of the words and places I have spoken of are unknown to you. They are to me as well, however, it would seem there was a telepath on board Excelsior, and through a mind meld with her I gained a vast amount of this information..."

"In a great many of the scattered phenomena presented to Xenopologists, among others, there existed a certain pattern common to all. It was a mythology of beliefs in the primal inhabitation of earth by another race of beings who, because of certain dark practices, lost their foothold on earth and were expelled by 'Elder gods' who sealed them away in time and space -- since They were not subject to the laws of time and space as we mortals are, and were in addition mobile in other dimensions."

"These other beings, despite being expelled and sealed away by fearful and hated seals, continue to live on the 'outside' and frequently manifest themselves in dreams in attempts to regain control over and possession of our Universe and the 'inferior' beings who now inhabit it --inferior, presumably, because of their subjectivity to lesser laws of geometry and physics which do not affect the expelled beings who are known by various names. Most common among them being the 'Great Old Ones."

"Moreover, these 'Great Old Ones' are malevolent, and it should be recognized that the barriers which stand between mankind and the paralyzing horror which they represent are purely arbitrary and wholly inadequate."

"Very well Lieutenant," Tuvok replied emotionally unrevealing to Tom's outburst.

"There is a rare book written about the Great Old Ones and their exploits the year A.D. 730 in Damascus by an Arab poet named Abdul Alhazred. Many considered the author and his writings mad tales of myth and lore, however, certain alien phenomena Captain Sulu and I encountered around Z'ha'dum seem to corroborate with the Arabs infamous Necronomicon as it has come to be known. While in Babylon 5's space/time phase shift, I was able to have access to an ancient text-bearing semblance to the aforementioned title. Strangest of all its contents, interestingly enough, was the cryptical glyphs alluding to Starfleet’s Excelsior and crew."

Incidentally, I find it strange that a human from so long ago into Earth's past could have such elaborate insight to these beings and matters.

"The Great Old Ones..." Tuvok steepled his fingers in the fashion of many Vulcans and continued..." had a fascinating relationship to the elements --of earth, water, air and fire - these were likewise one of their mediums of travel and in some way forms of communication with the inhabitants of your Earth. Indeed, they represented an ever present menace to all mankind and at times created certain 'openings' through which the Great Old Ones and their extraterrestrial minions might enter, or might be 'called' wherever in space or time they might be.

"All this, is as chronicled by the Arab. Are you following me?" Tuvok paused looking intently at the wildcard Lieutenant."

"Aye commander," Paris remarked giving him a half salute, and putting down the phaser. Janeway made a mental note...it was time to have another talk with Tom about attitude, loyalty, respect, discipline and all that other good stuff that goes along with enlisting in Starfleet.

The cosmic drone of the engines and the Borg-technology based hyperdrive created an eerie sense of tranquillity as Tuvok continued his account.

"Now, these Old Ones as I have said have been given various names. First among them is Cthulhu, who lies supposedly 'dead but dreaming' in the unknown sunken city of R'lyeh, which some have speculated to be the lost city of Atlantis. Second among them is Hastur, sometimes called Him Who Is Not To Be Named or Hastur the Unspeakable, who supposedly resides on a dark star in the Pleadies constellation. Third is Shub-Niggurath, a horrible travesty in itself. Next comes one who is described as the "messenger of the gods" -- Nyarlathotep --and particularly of the most powerful extensions of the Great Old Ones, the noxious Yog-Sothoth, who shares the dominion of Azathoth, the blind idiot chaos at the center of infinity. I see by the expression of your eyes that you are beginning to recognize some of the names...yes, I too have been subject to unusually strange dreams as of late."

Janeway stood up and paced the length of the bridge. "The chaotic shadow-space or temporal rift we narrowly escaped from back there Tuvok. Could it have been a manifestation of one of these malign beings?"

"The Great Old Ones have to some degree the ability to appear in mutations, though each presumably has its own identity and shape."

"It may be Nyarlathotep, it may be Yog-Sothoth, it may be another, possibly something from the Outside..... something not mentioned in the Book, something only hinted at. This is purely hypothetical at best, but I believe the reasons behind my inability to recall certain events from Excelsior is that the timestream was altered. This alteration has caused the downfall and extinction of the known universe, and further served to open a multi-phasic gate to what can be termed simply, The Other Side.“

“Clearly, we must take action. In one timeline Earth is being overrun by a multitude of Deep Ones as they are called, as well as other dark and terrifying malformations of evil whist Cthulhu rises from his watery grave. In another Earth, the Elders have begun control in an elemental form by ravaging the land with the bitter and mindless entities known as the Shoggoths.”

“The place, caught somewhere in time and space between the two cataclysmic events is as I have said, the focal point by which multi-dimensions and realities are coming together… Z’ha’dum. Only there can we have a chance at stopping the madness and change the misfortunate circumstances of that which has already happened.

"Mulder, hurry!!" Scully yelled in into Fox's ear. The man's hearing all but lost betwixt the consecutive chain rounds from his gun and the explosions and detonations above in the complex. They would be safe down here, but not for long. The horrid creatures would stop at nothing until not one human had survived.

They ran along the corridor of the Sub-level in Area 42. Further explosions could still be felt, even so far underground, and bits of concrete or whatever the material the structure was built of crumbled down atop them. Scully rubbed the dust and debris from her sleepless bloodshot eyes. Mulder paused for a second taking in the scene, and managed a smile in the midst of dire situation pressing down around them as he gazed upon her neon lips, and dirty ashes in her powder streaked hair.

"Scully, I'm serious. Let's face it...in all actuality we probably aren't going to survive this no matter what we do..." Mulder dodged and parried numerous rocks tumbling from the ceiling above. "And....I'd really like to hear what you think."

"Sometimes...I just don't understand you Mulder..." replied Scully wide eyed and with lustrous brows heightened.

"But if you must know...lounging around on a remote island somewhere sounds most enchanting...feeling the warm sea breeze and salty mist of the ocean spraying across the beach...brushing my toes through soft white sand..." She had played along with his game long enough... "All right Mulder, how about you now...what are you getting at?"

"I should have been born in the future..." said Mulder with his eyes seeming very distant. "A few hundred more years...Flying spaceships...to be the orphan who becomes the hero.............you know, there are those who believe that life here began out there, far across the universe, with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of the Egyptians, or the Toltecs, or the Mayans. That they may have been the architects of the great pyramids, or the lost civilizations of Lemuria or Atlantis. Some believe that there may yet be brothers of man who even now fight to survive, somewhere beyond the heavens......and if MJ-12..."

"No Scully listen, what if all our research in the X-Files has been corrupted by misinformation...there's got to be a logical explanation for such an overwhelming number of people to see unidentified flying objects around the globe not just in our lifetime...but for thousands of years. Our own government publicly denies the phenomena exist and that there's no threat to national security...Even the Air Force views are tainted, and can't seem to explain things fully - and how many records have we sifted though of those? Irrefutable evidence points to a cover-up at Roswell, and look at all the eyewitness accounts from abductees that claim alien beings have visited this planet in the past...But this is not what I'm getting at...it's not the Greys I'm worried about. Since the dawn of time, people have created myths to coincide with mysterious Sightings in the skies...swamp gas, ball lighting, fireballs, dragons...what of all the ancient cave paintings and Indian legends? What Scully, just what if these strangely recurring lights are naturally occurring events? What if there is some truth to the paradigm theories of multi-dimensions in space/time?

Scully cut him short as part of the ceiling caved in around their heads with deafening reverberation... She grasped his hand and secured it tightly in her own..."Come on..." she yelled as he still seemed to be lost in wavering thought. The two Lone Gunmen took off running again down the dark and narrow tunnelway...

* * *
Soon they came across a sign that read Control Room. Scully flashed the badge across the sensor to activate the entrance mechanism- no effect. Mulder shot the entire threshold out with his rifle, Mule kicked the door, and abruptly they entered into a dimly lit room.

Computer consoles filled the walls, some of them displaying security camera field shots, most were static. Scully couldn't watch as one of the camera's showed what was left of the Major. Unnamable organic entities scavenged about eating the flesh from his body as he hopelessly flailed against their weight in numbers. A tech with a white lab coat and glasses looked over to them as he turned with hands still on a keyboard. "I'm trying to lock the complex down...they move through anything...nothing seems to stop them!"

"There is no way we can stop them...we can only slow them," Mulder said somberly as if he knew what was going to happen. We need to contact someone on the 'net', can you help? We're looking for a Dr. Indiana Jones, here is his personal PDA address." Mulder handed the tech a business card out of his pocket. "We need to get through to him in time...please hurry!"

"If the satellite relays are still functional...hmmmm...yes...If he's online, I'll have the screen up in a minute," the man continued to fly away on the keypad. Mulder and Scully, crowded around a small terminal as the tech's fingers flew across the keyboard accessing protocols, codes...the big screen above them flickered on displaying NORAD in a small font in the lower corner of the screen. Slowly shimmering into clarity was not one professor, but two, and a hooded figure spoke up "Mr. Mulder, please meet my acquaintances...the past, and present, Dr. Indiana Jones."

Mulder noticed his partner's face loosing color and ironically turning cadaverously pale white... Scully looked as though she had just seen a ghost...

"Captain Kirk...what...but...how did you get here?" Sulu ran to greet his friend.

"It would seem in this timeline, events are supposed to happen this way. Hurry, follow me now...inside the Pylon."

"Mr. Sterling," Kirk addressed the man in the Veritech cockpit. "If you'd please keep the area surrounding the structure secure."

"Mitchell! stay behind and treat the wounded...you're in command while I'm away. O'Conner, Michaels, you're with me."

As the party made their way off to the closest timepylon following Kirk's lead, the defenders left behind in their battlemechs, and those left on the ground were in for another shocking surprise. Victor tapped the computer screen as if to correct a misalignment in its readings. The display showed huge green blotches converging on their position from the East. The entire screen was one giant moving bloob. He hit the jump jets and soared skyward in order to get a visual. "Enemy contact bearing 0428 mark 1."

"I've got multiple contacts...not sure what they hell they are! Holy shit their fast!" came Jason Storm's heated voice over the comm-link. "They're all over me...ahhhhh...aklxlkxlkxhjxhjMP3h!"

Wallart keyed up a few commands in the Atlas' combat computer. In seconds he had an exterior view of Jason's mech on his own screen.

A bubbling mass of moving, frothing, boiling shapes ozzed and tittered over the tropical, yet rough terrain of Z'ha'dum like it was a flat dessert. Before the link was severed, he swore he saw a small band of horsemen fleeing and futily attempting to shoot flaming arrows and throwing spears into its ever changing, ever growing mass. The tainted horde moved through trees, and the jungle itself seemed to come alive as it was absorbed and regenerated into horrifying amorphous creatures...gaining in size, shape, speed, and closing in on their position.

Hopes began to falter...Wallart's mind reeled...whatever these new foes were, meager ancient weapons or even the high tech armament of their battlemechs were not going to stop an advancing enemy the size of an ocean. A chill went down his spine as his mech's temperature had lowered to within normal limits and cold coolant liquid began flowing through his suit's tubing. The ethylene glycol-based solution circulated in his cooling vest seemed ice cold now as he continued to watch his primary display.

"Look sharp boys, I know we're in strung out shape...but stay frosty..." Wallart key'd up the general tactical frequency all the ground forces were monitoring. "We make our last stand here." The Atlas took up position directly over the top of the pyramidal stone edifice, while other mecha began taking up positions surrounding the comparatively miniscule structure. "When I give the signal...unleash hell...We hold the line at all costs..." his voice drawn out as the battle began...

Wallart knew that even with their courageous spirits they didn't stand a chance...they were simply buying time for the people inside....

Though the dense jungle the crew trampled until a small clearing could be seen just up ahead...Sulu ignored the cuts and tears at his arms, face and body as he pushed forward into sharp and jutting branches.

"These pylons are a sort of gateway into time...Mr. Tuvok if you check your tricorder, I'm sure you'll find chronoton particles are off the scale."

"Indeed...." Tuvok glanced at the hand-held scanner in front of him. "This entire planet is in a state of temporal flux..."

"Captain Sulu, if you've had the feeling that we've been here before...it's because we have...in another time...."

Kirk vaguely remembered when he first unlocked the mysteries of Hyuj's box. When the crew of the Enterprise NCC-1701A was orbiting a class M planet - much like the one they were on now, and when they were transported to a Lost World and entered the pylon...he was here again though which meant something was still wrong with the timestream...

In the Still of the Night the triple moons were aligned...Sulu, Tuvok and his crew entered the dark triangular entrance portal after Kirk, and at once his senses seemed overwhelmed. A swell of memories, past present and future.

As they moved along the masonry, the angles to which they were aligned shifted and displaced. At times, they thought they heard hissing sounds from around corners and bends, and all at once Kirk was face to face with what he thought were three Greys. "Aiyyeyhhahaaa!" Kirk shoulder tackled two of them before they could react. Quickly, Sulu and the security force went to help the Captain, and Tuvok made short work of the third with the Vulcan nerve pinch. "I don't know what the hell they're doing here, but ca'mon let's get moving....." Kirk gave one last kick to the Sleestack's oversized head and as the team progressed through the unlit seemingly endless passages, Tuvok spoke up.

"Sir, I'm reading a temporal distortion up ahead...high levels of tachyon emissions..."

As the party entered the small room, they found it to be dimly lit from a golden pedestal harboring a multitude of colored glowing crystals, and directly across was a misty portal...Kirk was reminded of the Guardian of Forever...a place and time which now seemed eons ago.

Through The Mist, the crew marveled at the images before them...Kirk and Sulu could see themselves on the Lost World of another timestream...there were figures and other scenes they recognized...Q, Indiana Jones, ancient tombs, Luke Skywalker...space battles...the Enterprise.... star fighters, Grey saucers...Imperial dreadnoughts... ...Starfleet vessels......Earth..................through the opiate vapor, a swirl of predestined outlooks on the future formed and reformed, all coalescing in A Brief History of Time.....

"Dr. Jones. We don't have much Time!" Mulder actually sounded nervous for the first time since Scully had known him. "And 'Time', is actually why I needed to contact you." "We came to you before Dr. Jones," Mulder looked to the right of the screen at old Indy. Maybe now you will believe us, that time does not travel a set course. We CAN influence the future."

"I have been thinking...since my arrival..." young Indy looked to the viewscreen in amazement while holding his weary hat. "I have been thinking about the manuscript which we have recovered from the Grey spacecraft, and what Mr. Skywalker has told us about the future. You said yourself that this is only a possibility. He's been to the future, he knows what's going to happen. Isn't now what he's told us going to influence coming events?"

"I prefer to look on the future as something that's not set in time...however, this much is certain...we cannot avoid fate!" the Bishop replied.

"Sure goes against everything we've always practiced about not interfering with the timestream," said one of the Stargate techs from a control station.

Daniel Jackson took a step forward. "I believe, that this situation is unique to our present. Since the anomaly did result in bringing the two doctors together, there have already been changes in the way the timeline is unfolding. The future we experience will undoubtedly be different now."

"Maybe that's why it happened," said young Indiana. "I'm no expert at this time travel mumbo jumbo, but I've studied my share of physics...and know about the bomb, and the sub-atomic tests at Roswell. "Perhaps every time a quantum "choice" is made, parallel but different universes are produced. Knowing what happens in one future allows us to change things now, so that some things never happen..." Indy abruptly cut himself off while looking at his double, "Does this make sense?"

"We must use caution..." it was Jackson again... "There are always certain crucial points in history where any changes to 'what happened' result in a calamitous 'ripple effect' of further changes."

"I say we go back and nerve gas the entire tomb," boldly stated Colonel O'Neil. "It's the only way to be sure they don't come back through."

"I am obliged to agree with you...yes." Old Indy joined in the discussion again. "I hate snakes," he whispered quietly to his older counterpart. That I have actually encountered my younger self is an inconsistency in the timestream - A "Chronoclasm". Let's hope the computers decipher the entire manuscript, but even then, I'm afraid it will be too late..."

"You dare prophesize our destiny! We don't have Time for your compppuuters!" Scully was vehement, spitting, and creating a rainbow effect of blotches on the screen, and finally starting to believe maybe, just maybe Mulder was right with some of his wild fantasies. "Mulder read your documents...he knows what he's talking about!" If we declare the doom and gloom of the scripts great 'secret' a mere equation, we've already lost. Have you not looked outside at the destruction? The signs are readily apparent! The prophecy is already happening!"

"Ms Scully...if there really is a spatial fissure...if there really is such a thing as a rift between time and "anti-time"...it is a contradiction in itself, and there is nothing you, and I, Indy put his hand on his former self's shoulder, or even him, nodding to the Bishop, can do about it.

"But... Even with what little the computers have deciphered, we obviously have stumbled upon a theme...a recurring pattern," chided Mulder. "We must go with your initial intuitive notions Dr. Jones... The future begets chaos, chaos begets destruction, destruction begets annihilation - the end all. I'm as frustrated as you are... but our world is dying. It needs help. The galaxy needs help...we're talking about universal Armageddon!" Old man Indy had to sit down. "I'm afraid the weight is more than I care to think about. We do not know the outcome of such conflicting timestreams and multi-dimensions..."

"No... we do not know the answer to the riddle of time...." interjected the Bishop..."The true answers might well remain a mystery as time is never ending....But the Stargate is a place to start...a tool, and a clue. It provides us an avenue of faith."

"Answers to questions big as these are not our to possess...." continued colonial Jackson. "I see where you are going with this and we cannot use the Stargate as you suggest..."It is a doorway into limited possibilities...we cannot predict infinite futures...the ultimate question comes down to which exact one is right... and when...we may never know!"

"On the contrary..." Luke unveiled his shrouded face as he removed the robes hood while glancing at a terminal readout. The Bishop engaged the luminescent green beam of the lightsaber and moved towards the portal that was now opening in conjunction with the decoded data. "The future has arrived........ Tonight the stars revolt!" Standing before them was a trio of Starfleet personnel!

In space...The mighty Octorg war machine arrived at Z'ha'dum and surrounded it with woeful and malign presence. Great Cthulhu's Mechanical Resonance could be felt disrupting the beating hearts and souls of men as it pulsed with energies beyond the laws of space and time with such thunderous timbre to rouse even the dead. The Emperor had also arrived guiding the direction of the Vindicator. The loathsome poltergeist controlling and venting through the Darkside was a Sovereign Force of evil in its purest form. Nyarlathotep, the trickster, and messenger of the Elder gods was paving the way for abnormalities never meant for sane minds to comprehend. The Alliance of good began falling to the all too familiar demise of chaos and madness. The war with the Old Ones would soon commence, with mankind hanging in the balance spiraling down a maelstrom of possible futures and ultimately into oblivion.

The land smelled of rot, as the dispirited army was shamed and shocked by the number of its dead.

And for the wounded, it was even worse as there could be no relief from the poison of the enemy...their moans and cries lingered unbearably in the midday stillness.

The noon sun beat down upon them, and mouths went dry with thirst and thoughts turned black with wretched suffering.

The men of Gondor had never known such despair. The imprisoned Shoggoths had broken free, and the invasion of the Westland had begun. With the passage of each day more and more land was lost and they were pushed further and further from their homelands. Minas Tirith and many other long-standing fortresses were overrun and had fallen.

Something worse than orcs had come to Middle Earth...from out of the darkness of Mordor...came not the wizardry of the Dark Lord, but a power far older and infinitely more malignant. Out of the pits were released the monstrosities which were banished long ago…barreling forth like some uncontrollable stampede came the innumerable and virtually invulnerable Shoggoths.

Much like an ameba, and very difficult to kill, the shapeless bulky Shoggoths came in many sizes...some only several feet tall, some quite wide, but all moved unbelievably swift; whether over flat or harsh terrain. Some even seemed to combine with each other while devouring their enemies...growing to such size that they became large as mountains.

Absorbing everything in their path...the Shoggoths were nearly unstoppable. They even had a psychological edge to their advantage as they attempted to Mimic their surroundings...at times appearing as trees...sometimes animals...sometimes humans...but always in a constant state of change and Transformation...the humanlike forms, after they engrossed an individual appeared ever so more grotesque than the original being...with spikes, antennae, and tentacles attached to a hideous gel like writhing mass.

Originally, and once again slaves, the Shoggoths were created by the Elders...now released from their age old imprisonment, Nyarlathotep 'toyed' with them...In some distant and possible future time, the Shoggoths would eventually develop into the Zykorr...a warrior race consummated to stop the Octorg Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones. For now though, the Shoggoths were nothing more than sub-human entities which survived on instinct with only animal like intelligence.

Out on the plains of Rohan, the Lady Eowyn and her followers had first encountered them. With their defenses down and spread thin with skirmishes against the Uruk-Hai, the men were never prepared to battle the Shoggoths, nor would they ever be.

Over half had been lost, and as well most of the Western land had already been conquered.

The call had gone out, and all who were able had come to serve. They came...pouring into the fortress, races from all over...Pre-judgements, and prejudices forgotten, all were now on the same side, and were outfitted with arms and equipment in a multitude of combinations with the intent of creating an advantage with which to fend off and destroy the Shoggoths.

The defenders were mobilized. Elves, Humans, Goblins, Dwarves, Ogres, Gnomes, Orcs, Trolls, Hobbits and a semblance of many other races banding together proud and ready. Of them, many were fine warriors from families with a long history of armed service... Pikemen, swordsmen, archers, and lancers, foot soldiers, even cavalry............. they would be ready for the enemy, or so they thought.

With muscles aching and cramped, it was nearing midnight when fortress of Minus Anor at last came into view. Lady Eowyn rode beside Faramir, who was in excruciating pain; from the poison of a lost limb into the substance of one of the Shoggoths.

The great stronghold was set back within a deep crevice, a twisting maze of parapets, towers, and bulwarks rising up darkly against the moonlit stone of supposedly impenetrable cliffs. A long, winding stairway ran up the slope to a gaping entry in the castle's outer wall. Ironbound wooden doors, weathered and silent with age with massive hinges stood closed against the night. Spikes also protruded from the crest of parapets, and high within the cluster of peaked turrets, watchtowers atop gigantic stone-block walls perched like squat Birds of Prey.

From somewhere deep within the fortress a horn blast echoed announcing their arrival...

Faramir, the Lady Eowyn and what was left of the Riders of the Mark trotted forward down the walkway, horse hoofs, and boots scoffing the ground as faces peered at them through narrow black windows.

To either side of the encircling battlement, a broad stairway wound upward toward a balcony that fronted the main tower of the ancient fortress, a monstrous walled citadel that rose hundreds of feet into the night sky, its rugged stone shown dull and hardened. At the center of the balcony, the eternal flame of Anor bathed the landings below and the entire courtyard with light symbolizing the inhabitants will to endure, and fight against the darkness.

Faramir looked uneasily around at the walls and battlements that loomed over him, dark and sinister, some areas crumbling with age. The wind howled in his ears and blew dirt in his eyes, and he tightened the cowl of his cloak about his face for protection. He did not like this place. It frightened him, and he knew it would mean his end.

The ready and willing defenders, and the sturdy long-standing fortress with all its preparations would unfortunately not be enough. To the disfigured Faramir, and the other riders who had faced the Shoggoths before knew all too well that nothing would be capable of withstanding an all out assault by this genocidal enemy. They were savage, maddened creatures driven by a hatred that had begun with the day of their banishment. For what seemed eternity, there had been nothing else. Now that hatred had been given vent, and if Minus Anor did not receive help in some form, the Shoggoths would destroy them.

The army continued to march upward and into the battlement as armor and harnesses jangled and clanged, and banners were held high in an attempt to show pride. But nothing could mask the helpless and heartlessness each felt inside.

None slept that night, for they knew that the final decisive battle was soon to come.

“Tuvok,” Janeway stood next to the Vulcan as she asked the one question on all of the bridge crew's minds. “Is there anyway to stop these Great Old Ones?”

“It is interesting you ask such a question, for I have been researching that answer for some time now during my dream periods. I have been running scenario after scenario through my mind, however, rarely do I remember enough information with which to draw a conclusion. Only through intense meditation have I been able to recall one possibility - something called an Elder stone. The markings on which combine to form a unique focal point where multidimensional space/time loops -thereby warding off the Old Ones and not allowing their essence into our universe.”

“The Grey stones as they are sometimes called, are enchanted stones carved with the Elder sign - A star of 5 points and in the center, a pillar of flame. The Stones were meant to offer protection from the Great Old Ones.”

"Hmmmmm," offered Neelix who had come up onto the bridge to serve coffee..."Mr. Vulcan, if you don't mind my asking, why are they called 'Grey' Stones?"

"By Greys, I assume you mean the aliens who were defeated in the great war under the direction of Captain Kirk..."

At the mention of the legend's name many of the crew surrounding the bridge's outskirts sat up straighter in their chairs and looked to one another with yearning, yet unbelieving, eyes. Only Kirk could have a hand in this duel of fate!

Harry continued..." I had a class on them at the Academy. Their multi-dimential meta-physics were required reading...but anyway...where can we get one of these Grey stones?"

"Earth...of the past. A famed archeologist and his companions living in a time of pre-space flight have circumvented a collection of the ancient artifacts, and the knowledge of their power gained from deciphering an archaic manuscript from the crashed wreckage of a downed Grey saucer.

There is however, one random variable in this timetable-the unstoppable wave of intergalactic destruction. The solution to solving that crisis well escapes my mind at this time, but this much I am certain. It involves some kind of mystical box, an Innocent Voyager in a far away land, and the planet Z'ha'dum...

As Kirk prepared for his next Quantum Leap into the portal, he attempted to rationalize the memories of his past jumps. Again Kirk's consciousness was wavering. Was the Enterprise destroyed at Chal? Where was he? Was this a different timestream? Was it a dream or past memory? He jolted back to reality as Sulu called out to him. "Captain are you all right?" Kirk looked at Sulu, and to the surroundings of the darkened pylon. Was it just a dream? damn it was all fading so quickly now...

The pestilent smoky haze of the Pylon began to permeate the entire room. He was not himself. Or was he. Things were not as they should be. He was on the Bridge of the Enterprise, designation NCC-1701B! On the viewscreen space was 'white' and the pinpoints which he assumed were stars were 'black' and gave off not a luster but a feeling of forbidding and ancient evil. And then he knew where he was...Outside Space...Outside Time...on...the Other Side.

"Yes Mr. Sulu," Kirk was jolted once again back to the nether reality he thought was real.

Another party had entered …hauntingly familiar…they were Starfleet officers! Commander Tuvok instantly recognized one of the figures….It was himself - A young Ensign Tuvok! The ethereal apparitions scrambled into room from a tight passageway paying no hindrance to their presence. Kirk reached out as the figures - passed right through him. They shuffled around the misty entrance and the pedestal for a few minutes before finally entering into the gateway…

Then another vision accosted his memories...and he knew where the missing link of the timeline could be found - The Regula II Station. "Everyone...prepare to jump...now..." And with that Kirk and Excelsior's crew disappeared into the closing portal...