The first step on a journey that few humans will ever take.” —The Traveler, Dorvan V, 2370 HE HAD KEPT the dang sweater. Of all the things to drag to the Academy, her son had chosen the ugliest piece of clothing she’d ever made him wear. Doctor Beverly Crusher ran her fingers over the gaudy olive cable knit, recalling how the baggy thing had engulfed Wesley’s lanky frame seven years ago, when the two of them first transferred to the Enterprise. She smiled. What a terrible mother I was to make him wear something so hideous. The strange wavy pattern of the weave was reminiscent of a snarl of seaweed, or perhaps a tetryon wave field. Yes, definitely waves. In that respect, maybe the sweater was a good fit—Wesley had always been a whiz at science. All right, he’d been a whiz at most everything he touched, much to the annoyance of some of the senior crew. But he was gone now, off exploring the unknown reaches of the universe with the transdimensional being known as the Traveler.
