In addition, Robinson’s lead science officer, Corallavellis sh’Vrane, guided her department through numerous attempts to devise a means of detecting the Romulans’ suspected new phasing cloak. Correspondingly, Lieutenant Commander Relkdahz led his engineering team in their labors to translate the scientists’ theories into practice. Starfleet Command had provided some additional information acquired from a research project carried out a quarter of a century earlier, but while that had helped the efforts of the Robinson crew, it had not provided the desired result. Without the specifications of the actual phasing cloak, nor even definitive sensor readings of a ship concealed by the device, all efforts essentially amounted to searching for a black pinpoint in an unlighted room.
Sisko concluded his report by summarizing the most positive aspects of his crew’s mission. Although they had failed to produce a method for penetrating a phasing cloak, their preliminary work in that area would provide a foundation on which other Starfleet research-and-development personnel could build. And though they hadn’t located any vessels absconding from Federation space, they had within the past week recorded anomalous readings within the Neutral Zone that might have resulted from the recent passage of a phase-cloaked ship.
“You’ve done good work here, Captain,” Herthum said. “Your crew’s earned their five days.”
“Thank you, sir.” Starfleet Command had authorized Sisko’s request for a layover at the starbase, allowing Robinson’s complement a well-deserved respite. “Do you have our orders going forward?”
“You should receive official notification aboard the Robinson this afternoon,” Herthum said, “but it’ll be a return to your patrol route.”
Sisko felt an expression of disappointment waver across his face before he could prevent it. For more than a year, he and his crew had traveled the Romulan border, protecting the Federation against unwanted incursions. For all the good that’s done, he thought cynically, the incident at Utopia Planitia foremost in his mind.
“Is there a problem?” Herthum asked. The question seemed obligatory; the admiral’s tone suggested that he not only understood Sisko’s frustration, but empathized with the captain.
“Not a problem, no, sir,” Sisko said, prevaricating to some extent. He knew that the tedious task of keeping vigil along the Neutral Zone had taken its toll on his crew—and on himself—over the past fifteen months. At first, the nature of the duty suited Sisko, who after leaving Bajor wanted to find something to usefully occupy his time—something that would still allow him to sequester himself away. The repetitive and relatively undemanding charge of watching over the Federation’s boundary with the Romulan Empire satisfied his needs, but it also severely underutilized the abilities and neglected the desires of a crew trained for, and aspiring to, much more.
Eventually, as Sisko dealt with his emotional challenges, he too began to yearn for something more rewarding than mere guard duty. “It’s just that functioning solely as a sentry seems like a waste of resources for a Galaxy-class starship and crew,” he told Admiral Herthum. Though equipped with powerful weapons and strong defenses, Robinson and its sister ships had been conceived and constructed as instruments of long-term exploration, with matériel aboard to accommodate civilian personnel, including family members of the crew.
“I understand your point, Captain, and I concur with it,” Herthum said. “But Starfleet lost more than ships and personnel during the Borg invasion; the Salazaar Shipyards suffered massive damage, and the Beta Antares and Tri-Rho Nautica facilities were completely destroyed. We’re not only having to construct new starships and train new crews to staff them, we’re having to rebuild our infrastructure. Yes, it’s been sixteen months, but it’s a deep hole, and it’s been a long, slow climb.”
“I know, Admiral, I know,” Sisko said, raising a hand to signal that Herthum needn’t justify to him Robinson’s continuing assignment. Maintaining the solidity of the Federation’s borders, and thus the safety of its citizens, had always counted as one of Starfleet’s uppermost priorities. The recent reintegration of the Romulan Empire and the advent of the Typhon Pact made that responsibility even more important, and in light of the theft of the slipstream blueprints, critically so.
“You’re hardly the only Galaxy-class patrolling our borders,” said Herthum. “Hell, we’ve got the First Minister and the President out on the Tholian frontier.” Sisko recognized the names of the two vessels, both of which belonged to the Sovereign class, a generation of exploratory starships more advanced than the Galaxy. “Plus other Galaxys and other Sovereigns on other borders,” Herthum continued. The admiral pulled his hands from atop his desk, then leaned forward toward Sisko. “Believe me, Captain, many of us in Starfleet Command are pushing for a return to missions of discovery,” he said earnestly. “We’ve managed to send a handful of vessels out to unexplored space, but we need to bolster the fleet even more before we’ll be able to add to that number.”
“I understand,” Sisko said, and he did. But he also felt something he never really had: wanderlust. He’d entered Starfleet as an engineer, had been pushed into various command positions by his superiors, and then had become a religious icon during his time in the Bajoran system. He had never truly hungered to travel the galaxy and explore the unknown in the way that, say, Elias Vaughn had. Suddenly, though, the idea of such an undertaking intrigued him.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Herthum said. “Right now, we need the Robinson right where it’s been.” The admiral stood up and extended his hand. “Hopefully, shore leave will reinvigorate you and your crew.”
Sisko stood and shook Herthum’s hand. “I’m sure it will, Admiral,” he said. He gathered up the padd he’d brought with him from the ship, which he’d set down on the edge of Herthum’s desk. He headed for the door, then made his way through the outer office. He acknowledged Lieutenant McKeown, the admiral’s aide, as he passed his desk.
Outside, Sisko started across the white-marble plaza that separated the starbase’s administration building from its transporter facility. A light breeze spilled down from the mountains and through the sparsely traversed space. Sisko welcomed the bracing feel of the cool air on his face, a reprieve from the claustrophobic sense induced by a long—and soon to be longer—patrol assignment. As he walked, his bootheels drawing a metronomic lane through the square, he wondered how long it would take Starfleet to fully recover. They’d been rebuilding shipyards and constructing new vessels for more than a year, and still only a small number of ships traveled out beyond the frontiers of the Federation. Would it require another year of such efforts before more crews could rejoin in the exploration of the universe? Two years? More? Perhaps if the Klingon Empire could—
A figure moved into Sisko’s path in the plaza, and he quickly stepped around it. Still thinking about the future of Starfleet, he did not register the calling of his name until he heard it a second time.
“Benjamin.”
A woman’s voice—a voice out of place here at Starbase 39-Sierra, but one he nevertheless recognized. It belonged to somebody who’d resented him on sight when first they’d met, but who had later become a trusted colleague and a good friend.
Sisko stopped and turned.
Kira Nerys strolled beside the Emissary along the hard-packed dirt path. The well-worn trail meandered through the lush valley that nestled in the foothills of the Ravingian range. They had walked there together from the starbase, where Kira had located her old friend and erstwhile commanding officer. They hadn’t seen each other in person in more than a year, since Benjamin had left Bajor, though they’d spoken over subspace several times during that period.
Kira inhaled the sweet scents of the surrounding vegetation, dense shrubbery speckled liberally with flowering plants. She wondered just how she would broach the subject she had come to the starbase to discuss. She’d considered and reconsidered her options for some time, ever since Kasidy had visited her at the Vanadwan Monastery. Given the circumstances, she thought it would be
difficult to approach any friend, but Benjamin’s status as the Emissary of the Prophets complicated matters for her even further.
She peered over at him. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted downward. When she’d called after him in the plaza at the base, he’d seemed sincerely happy to see her. They exchanged pleasantries, then talked easily as they agreed to take a walk down into the valley after he contacted his ship. He asked about her presence at Starbase 39-Sierra, and she spoke at length about her mission of mercy to aid the survivors of the Borg attack on the Velestral Colony. Kira acted on behalf of Bajoran relief efforts to bring nutritional and medicinal aid to populations in need.
After that, she and Benjamin had fallen into silence. It didn’t strike her as uncomfortable, but her companion seemed preoccupied. Kira could only surmise that her sudden appearance had something to do with that—perhaps as an unanticipated reminder of the life he had left before returning to Starfleet.
“I’m still not sure that I’m used to you being back in uniform,” she said with a smile, trying to find the right tone to reopen their conversation. “I’d become accustomed to seeing you in civilian clothes.” She hoped that the obvious references to Benjamin’s time as the commander of Deep Space 9, and to his subsequent days at home with Kasidy in Kendra Province, wouldn’t upset him.
As she awaited his reply, she studied his face. He looked better to her—healthier—than he had in some time. No dark circles hung beneath his eyes, he did not move as though he carried his burdens around with him on his shoulders, and earlier, when he’d spoken, his words had come with an animation he had for a while lacked. Still, as she gazed at him in his pensive state, she thought that she could sense something in him that remained unsettled. Frustration? Guilt? Loneliness? When he finally glanced down at Kira, though, whatever haunted him slipped away, like the shadow cast by a cloud that has glided past the sun.
“I’d gotten used to seeing you in robes,” Benjamin said, and then something seemed to occur to him. “You’re still … did something happen?”
For a moment, Kira didn’t understand Benjamin’s apparent concern, but then she put his question in the context of the russet slacks and dark brown jacket she wore. “I’m still a vedek,” she said. “I wear my robe when I’m at the monastery in Releketh, or when I’m conducting myself in a spiritual role.” She spied an opening and decided to take it. “Besides, I came here to speak with you not as a vedek, but as a friend.”
“Wait,” Benjamin said, evidently gleaning her implication. “You came here specifically to see me? I thought you were on your way back to Bajor from the Velestral Colony.”
“Actually, the survivors of the Velestral Colony weren’t able to revive their croplands,” Kira explained, “and so they were recently relocated to Corat Three. I’m on my way home from there.”
“Corat Three’s not in this sector,” he said. “In fact, it’s not even in Federation space.”
“No, but it’s a lot closer than Bajor is to Starbase Thirty-nine-Sierra,” Kira said. “When I learned that the Robinson would be here now, I decided to extend my journey.”
Sisko nodded slowly, as though carefully weighing Kira’s words. He began walking again, dirt crunching beneath his boots. Kira fell in alongside him.
“You knew that the Robinson would be here?” he asked.
Kira offered him another smile. “Believe it or not, I still have some contacts in Starfleet who’ll talk to me,” she said. “I might not always have done everything by the book, but some people saw that as a virtue, not a vice.” She waited for him to respond, but once again, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Right, Captain?” she prodded.
“Oh,” Sisko said, as though roused from a daze. “Right, Captain.”
Kira couldn’t tell if he intentionally alluded to her rank when last she’d commanded DS9, or if he simply echoed her last words. For the second time, Benjamin stopped walking and moved around to face her.
“Nerys, why did you make a special trip to see me?” he asked. “Is everything all right? Has something happened to … ?” He didn’t seem able to complete the question, and Kira understood the conclusion to which he’d jumped.
“No, no, nothing’s happened,” she said quickly. “Everybody’s fine—Kasidy, Rebecca, Jake, Korena—they’re all fine.” Benjamin exhaled deeply, and he seemed to unwind, as though releasing the sudden tension that had built within him at the prospect of harm having come to his family. Kira felt bad for accidentally worrying him, and she wanted to say more to ease his mind. But she had traveled to Starbase 39-Sierra to have a particular conversation, and so she hesitated before adding anything more. Throughout her life, she’d had few qualms about providing unsolicited advice to friends, but the idea of doing so with the Emissary of the Prophets discomfited her. At last, she said, “Kasidy asked me to speak with you.”
Benjamin did not appear surprised—nor, to Kira’s relief, angry. He began walking again, and Kira followed beside him. “How is she?” he asked. “And how’s Rebecca?”
Before Benjamin had left Bajor, he’d asked Kira to visit Kasidy, to try to comfort her about his leaving. She would have done so anyway; she and Kasidy had grown close during the Emissary’s time away in the Celestial Temple. “The last time I was out at the house,” Kira said, “Rebecca was a bundle of energy, laughing, singing, running from room to room. She also insisted that I read her a book. According to Kasidy, she’s got quite a few favorite stories.”
Benjamin smiled—a deep, natural expression that reached all the way to his eyes. The fullness of his emotion, of his apparent joy, lasted only a moment before being mitigated by the pain he obviously carried with him. “Kasidy and I started reading to her when she was just an infant,” he said. “She’s always been very verbal, but even as a baby, she’d quiet down when we read her a story.”
Kira chuckled at the memory of her last visit out to Kendra Province. “Rebecca also insisted that I quiz her with flashcards,” she said. “She knows the alphabet, and she’s got quite a vocabulary for a girl who’s not even six yet.”
Benjamin’s smile faltered. “I miss her,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
“She misses you,” Kira said gently.
Benjamin shook his head, his features a mixture of love and regret. “How can she?” he said. “After so much time, she probably can’t even remember me.”
“She knows,” Kira said. “Kasidy hasn’t let her forget.”
Again, Sisko shook his head. “Kasidy must hate me by now.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Kira said, her tone definite. “She’s frustrated and upset … she’s angry … but she doesn’t hate you. In fact, she misses you. She told me that herself.”
“Is that why she sent you here?” Sisko asked. “To tell me that? To try to convince me that I’ve made a terrible mistake?”
“That’s not why she asked me to see you,” Kira said. “But she does believe you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“And what about you, Nerys?” Sisko asked. “What do you think?”
Kira blanched, feeling her face grow cold as the blood drained from it. More than almost anything else, perhaps even more than the idea of lecturing the Emissary about his responsibilities, Kira dreaded facing that question. “I … I can’t answer that,” she said.
“No?” Sisko said, halting in his tracks and snapping his head toward her. “Because as I recall, you thought that I was doing the right thing when I decided not to marry Kasidy based upon the Prophets’ warning. So now that I’m doing what they told me to do and not spending my life with her, don’t you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Benjamin,” Kira started, but she didn’t know what to say. She looked away. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” she finally managed to utter. “It’s not my business.”
“No?” Sisko said, his voice rising. “You seem to think it’s enough of your business to come talk to me about it.”
“I … I�
�m …” Kira faltered. She tried again. “Emissary—”
“I’m not the Emissary!” Sisko roared, his voice bounding down the valley. He turned and stalked away, his long strides carrying him quickly back along the dirt path. Kira thought that he didn’t intend to stop until he reached the starbase, but then he did. He stood silently, his back to her, perhaps attempting to compose himself.
“I’m sorry,” Kira called after him.
Benjamin turned and walked back to face her. “I’m sorry too,” he said quietly once he’d reached her. “What I’ve done isn’t a mistake, but it is terrible. It’s still difficult to deal with.”
“I understand.”
Benjamin seemed to harden further at the words, and she thought that he would challenge her assertion. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the ground and shrugged. “Why are you here, Nerys? Kasidy won’t agree to legally end our marriage, or at least she hasn’t yet. Does she want you to try to talk me out of making our separation permanent?”
“No,” Kira said. “Kasidy loves you and she misses you, but she doesn’t want you coming back to her, or staying married to her, other than of your own volition.”
Benjamin looked up and into Kira’s eyes. He held her gaze for what seemed like a long time, as though searching there for the truth. “Then why?” he finally asked.
“For Rebecca,” Kira said. “She needs her father in her life.”
Sisko raised his arms, then dropped them to his sides, the padd he carried in one hand slapping against his thigh. “I’m a danger to her,” he said. “The Prophets said so.”
“The Prophets warned you about spending your life with Kasidy,” Kira said. “They didn’t caution you against having time with your daughter.”
“If I go back to Bajor, Kasidy will push for us to be together,” Benjamin said. “That can’t happen. It’s too dangerous—not for me, but for Kasidy and Rebecca.”
Star Trek: Typhon Pact 06: Plagues of Night Page 6