Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Ascendance

by David R. George III

  “I was born in Revek, but when I was very young, my family moved to Davenesh,” Altek said. “I attended medical school in Joradell and then stayed there when I became a doctor.”

  As the replicator hummed and delivered Ro’s order in a haze of white light, Pralon said, “I’m sure it won’t surprise you that I’ve never heard of any of those places.”

  “No, not at all,” Altek said. “Just as I’m sure it won’t surprise you to discover that, before I came to Deep Space Nine, I’d never heard of the title kai.”

  Ro walked over with a cup of tea in each hand. She set one down before Pralon, who looked elegant in her traditional robe and matching headpiece. The lavender vestments set off her silvering blond hair and brought out the blue in her blue-green eyes. The captain put the other cup down in front of Altek. They both thanked Ro before Pralon responded to the doctor.

  “Actually, it does surprise me some,” she said. “The title of kai goes considerably far back in history. It was given to spiritual leaders even before all the people of Bajor united as one world.”

  “Though I never met her, and though nobody ever called her kai, I was aware of the woman whom people looked to as the Bajoran spiritual leader,” Altek said. “Her name was Denoray Lunas.”

  “I don’t recognize either the surname or the given name,” Pralon said, “much less the entire name.”

  Ro carried her own cup of tea over from the replicator. She set it down on the table and sat in the unoccupied chair. “There are several officers in my crew who studied Bajoran history at university,” the captain said. “I assigned one, Aleco Vel, to lead a team in researching from what period Doctor Altek might have come. Lieutenant Aleco and the others conducted several interviews with the doctor and then used the information they collected to search the archives. So far, they haven’t found anything to help identify his origin.”

  Pralon shook her head slowly. “Although much is known about the First Bajoran Republic, and the Second, there are still lengthy periods in our history that are undocumented and unremembered.” The kai paused, then asked Altek, “Do you have any intuition about what’s happened to you? Any sense, no matter how fleeting, about your situation?”

  “No—” Altek began, but then he stopped abruptly. “Actually, I’ve come to believe what Captain Ro and her crew believe: that I somehow traveled through the Celestial Temple, and in doing so, also journeyed forward in time.”

  “Does that not seem like a fantastical idea to you?” the kai asked.

  “To me, it does, of course,” Altek agreed. “But as I understand it, it’s something that’s commonplace now.”

  “Not ‘commonplace,’ ” Ro interjected, “but yes, there have been more than a few recorded instances of travel backward and forward in time.”

  “I didn’t believe it at first,” Altek said. “I thought that perhaps I’d been drugged, or that I was the victim of an elaborate hoax. But I’ve been here for more than three months, and there just doesn’t seem to be any other reasonable explanation—unless maybe I’m really in a coma and this—” He waved his hand in an arc above his head, a gesture manifestly meant to include the entirety of Deep Space 9. “—is all a figment of my unconscious mind.”

  Pralon raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been called far worse things than that,” she said, and both Ro and Altek laughed. The kai smiled, and it felt to Ro as though some of the natural tension in the meeting had eased.

  Pralon leaned forward and picked up her cup from its saucer. She sipped at her tea, then put it back down. “Doctor,” she said, “I’m going to assume that the conclusion Captain Ro and her crew have come to is correct, that you have come forward from Bajor’s past. Such an occurrence involving the Celestial Temple, as I’m sure you’ve been informed, is not without precedent. I also have confidence in the analytical abilities of the captain and the people in her charge.” The offhand compliment surprised Ro; in her experience, the kai did not engage in either flattery or hyperbole, and so she appreciated the gracious words. “That being the case, what is it that you expect? What do you want from Bajor and its people?”

  The questions, phrased so bluntly, sounded to Ro almost like accusations. She felt the urge to say something to the kai, to defend Altek. The captain had spent many hours with him during his time on the starbase, and she had become utterly convinced of his authenticity. She didn’t think he deserved to be treated like a suspected criminal.

  Before she could say anything, though, the doctor responded. “I want nothing,” he said, his voice even, “other than to go home.” He did not act as though Pralon’s questions had offended him.

  “But where, exactly, is home?” the kai asked. “There is no such place as Revek or Davenesh or Joradell. None of the people in your life are still alive, nor is there even any record of their existence. How do you propose to return home when home as you knew it no longer exists?”

  Again, the captain found Pralon’s words combative, although the kai kept her tone free of suspicion. In her younger days, Ro probably would have spoken out, and harshly. And that wouldn’t have helped matters, she thought, other than to make me feel self-righteous for a few moments. She recognized that the kai might be testing Altek’s reactions, intentionally trying to bait him, for he certainly would face considerable scrutiny if he did go back to Bajor. For his part, he reacted to the pointed questions with equanimity.

  “I only want to return to the world on which I was born, and on which I lived all of my life until I somehow ended up here,” Altek said. “I seek no special place, no special recognition—or any recognition.”

  The kai nodded slowly, then leaned forward on the sofa. “Let me ask you, Doctor Altek, if you believe that the Prophets have special plans for you.”

  For the first time since meeting Pralon, Altek appeared flustered. His face flushed and he moved back in his chair. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how to answer that,” he said. “It seems clear to me that, if I’m to be permitted to go back to Bajor, your hope is that I do so quietly. As I’ve told you, that’s what I want, too. But the truth is that, if the Prophets have sent me here, They must have done so for a reason.”

  “What reason?” the kai asked.

  Altek blinked before answering, and the captain thought she saw in that minutest of hesitations something in his eyes. Does he know why he’s been sent here? Ro asked herself. In all the time she’d spent with him, she’d seen no indication that he did. The kai didn’t seem to notice the pause, and Ro wondered if she’d imagined it.

  “I don’t know,” Altek said. “I would not presume to know the minds of the Prophets.”

  Pralon leaned back on the sofa. Her gaze seemed appraising to Ro. “That is a wise answer,” the kai said. “And it’s almost a direct quote out of Shines the Celestial Temple.”

  “I have been reading some of the canon,” Altek said, with no hint of guilt or embarrassment. “I guess it’s made an impression.”

  “That is good to hear,” Pralon said. Her voice carried no implication, but Ro appreciated the kai’s intellect enough to know that she must already have formed some opinion about Altek. The captain expected Pralon to say more, but instead, she seemed content to let the doctor speak.

  Altek sat forward, moving to the edge of his seat. It almost seemed to Ro as though he and the kai were involved in some sort of elaborate dance, the two of them shifting positions as they evaluated each other. “I don’t know if the Prophets have sent me here for some particular purpose,” Altek said. “Whether or not They have, I do not intend to search for that purpose. I have to believe that, if I am here for a reason, it will come to pass on its own.”

  “You sound almost fatalistic in your outlook,” Pralon said.

  “No, I wouldn’t call myself a fatalist,” Altek said. “But if some things are predetermined, then there’s no point in me or anybody else trying to stop them or help them along.” For the first time, he took hold of his teacup and raised it to his lips.

 
As Altek set his tea back down, the kai asked, “Do you like it?”

  “Not particularly,” the doctor said without hesitation. Then he smiled. “But like most things, I can probably get used to it.”

  Pralon smiled with just one side of her mouth, an expression Ro took to mean that the kai understood the subtext in Altek’s words. “It’s often important to be adaptable,” Pralon said. “I wonder if you would consent to me exploring your pagh.”

  Altek looked to Ro questioningly, then back at the kai. “I’ve encountered the term,” he said. “I gather that it refers to a person’s essence.”

  “To their life-force, yes,” Pralon said. She stood up from the sofa and circled the low glass table. “If you would permit me to touch your ear . . .”

  Again, Altek looked to Ro. She nodded, and he tilted his head to one side. The kai reached forward and slowly traced her forefinger along the pinna of his left ear, and then pressed her thumb to his lobe. Altek shuddered once, but he did not pull away.

  The kai closed her eyes, her chin lifting slightly. “Your pagh is stalwart. It is . . . it was lost,” she said. “But no more. You are . . . you are . . .” Pralon opened her eyes. “You are here to stay.”

  Altek looked up at the kai. “That’s good,” he said, his voice quiet. “I would not be quick to leave home in the same way again.”

  “You won’t.” Pralon turned her eyes to the captain, and Ro suddenly felt naked, as though the kai could see her life-force without having to make physical contact. Ro had never liked the sensation of somebody feeling not just at her ear, but down into the core of her being. Contrary to the Bajoran tradition of wearing an earring on the right ear, she used to wear one on her left, not just to assert her disbelief in the divinity of the Prophets, but also to deter members of the clergy from attempting to read her pagh. Once she’d been promoted to the position of first officer aboard the original DS9, though, she’d made the decision—after an enlightening conversation with Commander Vaughn and some serious self-examination—to wear no earring at all.

  The kai dropped her hand from Altek’s ear. Still gazing at Ro, she said, “It is not my place to offer apologies for the Bajoran government. Nevertheless, I am personally sorry about the lack of responsiveness you’ve received in this matter.”

  “We appreciate that you’re here now,” Ro said.

  Pralon stepped back over to the sofa, but she did not sit down. “It is also not my wont to make excuses for other people, but I do hope you can appreciate the political climate that has prevented a swift and definitive decision regarding Doctor Altek’s return to Bajor.”

  Ro nodded. She understood that the kai referred not only to the assassination of President Bacco and everything that followed, but also to the recent actions by the Ohalavaru. The sect had attacked the Bajoran moon of Endalla and unearthed what they declared to be proof that the Prophets were not gods, but merely members of a powerful alien species. Those events had yet to be made public, but Ro assumed that they soon would be—if for no other reason than that it would be virtually impossible to keep such a momentous claim a secret.

  “I do believe what you and Captain Ro have told me,” the kai told Altek. “I have concerns about allowing you to come back to Bajor right now. Even if you do not seek attention, you will likely receive it anyway. Your story is not yet known, but it is only a matter of time before it becomes a matter of public record.”

  “I truly wish only to blend in to Bajoran society,” Altek said. “I just want to try to live a normal life.”

  “I know,” Pralon said. “And it is the right thing to provide you that opportunity. But it is complicated. I need to meditate on the issue before I can decide what will be best for all concerned—including you, Doctor.”

  Altek stood up, as did Ro. The meeting clearly seemed at an end. “Thank you for seeing me, Kai Pralon.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, and thank you for the tea, Captain.” Ro realized that she hadn’t even taken a sip from her own cup.

  The kai walked around the sofa and toward the door, which slid open at her approach. Before she left, she turned back to the sitting area. “I will be leaving for Bajor tomorrow,” she said. “I invite you to join me in the temple later for evening services, Doctor.”

  “Thank you,” Altek said. “I’d like that.”

  “I would welcome your presence as well, Captain.”

  Ro nodded and offered a smile, but said nothing. The kai did not wait for any more of an answer than that. She continued through the door, which closed behind her.

  Altek looked at Ro. “What do you think?”

  “I think that if there’s any chance at all that you can go back to Bajor sometime soon,” Ro said, “it lies with the kai.”

  * * *

  “Where have you been?!”

  Nog peered over to the freestanding companel from where he stood in the doorway to his uncle’s office. Quark had called out even before the panel had completely opened. Of course, Nog thought. He heard my footsteps approaching and recognized them.

  “I’ve been away,” Nog replied, realizing at once that such a response would hardly satisfy his uncle.

  “I know you’ve been away,” Quark said with obvious annoyance. “What I want to know is where.”

  Nog debated whether to flee the familial interrogation—Haven’t I answered enough questions lately?—and come back later in the day. In other circumstances, he probably would have. He didn’t have to report for duty until the next day, though, and so he had a free afternoon, which he hoped to put to good use. “Uncle, please,” he said, stepping fully inside the office. The door panel slipped closed behind him, dampening the olio of voices and the clink of glassware outside in the bar. “I’m a Starfleet officer. You know we can’t always talk about our assignments.”

  “Then it’s true,” Quark said, slapping the Ferengi padd in his hand down on the surface of the companel. “You hunted down President Bacco’s assassins.”

  Nog felt his mouth drop open, and he forced himself to close it. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his uncle had obtained classified information. Quark had contacts all over the Alpha Quadrant—not to mention in the Beta and Gamma Quadrants as well. But Uncle also knows how to bluff, Nog reminded himself. Quark might merely have deduced the nature of Nog’s assignment based on the timing of events on the starbase, Nog’s departure, and the public reporting about the capture of the president’s assassins. Or he might just have wildly guessed.

  “Uncle, I’m an engineer,” Nog said. “Why would Starfleet send me on a military mission?” He had asked himself the same question when he’d first learned the purpose of the Active Four unit to which he had been assigned, even though Lieutenant Commander Kincade had already made mention of Nog’s extensive battlefield experience—a fact Nog typically preferred not to think about.

  “Why would Starfleet send you on a military mission?” Quark blustered. “Because you’re in Starfleet, which is a military organization.”

  “We consider ourselves explorers and diplomats first.”

  “Really?” Quark said, sounding not at all convinced. “Do you engage in a lot of exploration and diplomacy on this starbase?”

  Nog rolled his eyes at the snide question, but it actually pleased him that his uncle cared enough about his welfare to be upset. And if he knew the truth, or even suspected it, he’d have good reason to be upset. Nog had indeed been recruited as part of a covert team charged with capturing Nan Bacco’s killers—although, as it turned out, not to bring them to justice, but to allow Baras Rodirya and his coconspirators to eliminate them. Since leaving Deep Space 9, Nog had been shot at more times than he cared to recall. He felt fortunate to have survived the ordeal.

  Of course, he couldn’t tell his uncle any of that. Beyond the classified status of the mission and its details, Nog wouldn’t want Quark to worry about him the next time he received orders that took him away from the starbase. Still, between tracking down Onar Throk an
d his collaborators, dealing with Galif jav Velk and Baras Rodirya’s other accomplices, and then getting debriefed by what seemed like every officer in Starfleet Intelligence, Nog had been gone for more than three months, so he had to tell his uncle something.

  “There are a lot of jobs in the galaxy that require the expertise of an engineer,” he said vaguely. “And Starfleet doesn’t necessarily want to share every detail with everybody.”

  Quark waved a hand dismissively through the air, as though even the concept of somebody keeping information from him offended his sensibilities. Nog expected his uncle to quote one Rule of Acquisition or another—perhaps the 135th: Listen to secrets, but never repeat them—but instead, he came out from behind the companel console he used as a desk, crossed the room, and took hold of his nephew by his upper arms. “Are you all right?” he asked, and the honest concern in his eyes moved Nog.

  “I’m fine, Uncle.” Nog slapped his hands against his own chest. “Everything intact. No new parts.” It amazed Nog that he could make such a joke, that he had come so far emotionally after losing his leg a decade prior, during a battle with the Jem’Hadar. At the time, even after being fitted with a fully functioning prosthetic replacement, he’d still had trouble thinking of himself as a whole person.

  Vic helped me with that, he remembered warmly. Nog missed his friend—which, after letting his uncle know that he had returned safely to DS9, formed the second reason he had come to Quark’s that afternoon. Because of a series of technical incompatibilities and other issues, Vic Fontaine’s program had been confined to running in a holographic testing unit ever since the destruction of the original space station more than two years earlier. Just before Nog had left for his covert assignment, he had finally made progress in uploading Vic’s complex matrix from the tester and getting it to run, at least partially, in one of his uncle’s new holosuites, but there still remained a great deal of work to be done.