[Celuien]

Panakeia half smiled, relieved to hear Anakron behaving reasonably again. "Destiny? Need I explain? I thought you understood."

Anakron assured her that he did not understand. Panakeia sighed. He must have missed the sign from Spockú. She would explain. She understood.

"Don't you see? It was fate that brought us together. The ATM could have chosen anyone to join the Offending Party. But it didn't. It chose me. I could have left Mordor. But I didn't. I stayed – for you. And now, at your point of crisis, I'm here, and I've been chosen for a mission! My mission is to save you from yourself."

Anakron looked questioning, concerned. "What do you mean by chosen?"

That eyebrow was up again. It was a sign to speak fully. Panakeia was seized by a torrent of words, not all of which she completely understood in her wild fervor, though she relished them in their utterance. "I was chosen! I have orders from the Captain. It is my duty to the Federation to fulfill the mission, though, given the choice, I would have taken it of my own accord. I love you. What else could I do but help, even without the concern of duty? And the Dweomer. The Dweomer, Anakron! Its existence violates the high law of the Temporal Prime Directive. It changes time. You cannot continue its evil. We can cast it away. I can show you the way. For you, for us, for the Captain!" The light, like the bright glow of a warp drive running at factor nine, was in her face again. Panakeia was ecstatic as her mind traveled far from the dark chambers of Mount Doom – for she had a vision of a brightly lit room, filled with flashing lights and chirping buzzers. The Captain sat in a squared chair. Spockú leaned over a blue-glowing box, the light reflecting off his glorious Shadowbrow and mingling with the blue of his uniform. It was a beautiful sight. Panakeia at last understood Kirk's despair when he was told that the ship did not exist. But that was a lie. Of course the ship existed. Panakeia saw it, clear as day. She had to go there, to stand upon the bridge, and Anakron had to come with her. She would bring him to the Captain, and any evil she failed to repair would surely vanish in the Captain's wisdom.

The vision faded, and Panakeia saw Anakron again, a puzzled frown working its way over his face. Why should he frown? Their path was now laid before their feet, and they had but to follow it to its logical (Panakeia savored the word – Spockú used it often) conclusion at the Captain's chair. Then all would be made right by Kirk's wisdom, and if necessary, his uncanny ability to beat anyone in a fight. There was no reason for Anakron to be concerned. Or afraid, if that was what his expression meant.

"Anakron! Come with me. We will seek the Captain. Come with me. It is what we must do."

Anakron's frown deepened. Now he understood. His latest anakronism was taking hold of Panakeia's mind.