“So you inferred the existence of a mobile emitter,” Corvok said. “Did you want one for yourself?”
Vic lifted his hands as though offering his wrists to the agents. “Ya got me,” he said. “I have to admit that the thought did cross my mind.”
“Did you hire—did you ask—Morn to obtain one for you?” Toulet asked.
“I might’ve mentioned in passing once or twice that I’d love to have one,” Vic said. “But no, I didn’t ask him to get a mobile emitter for me.”
“How strongly did you convey your wish?” Corvok asked.
“Look, I don’t kn—” A buzz emanated from the viewscreen in the security office, cutting off Vic’s sentence.
“What was that?” Ro asked. “Is there a problem with communications?”
“—to him,” Vic continued, “but it wasn’t—” Another buzz filled the air, and Ro saw Vic’s image jump.
At the security console, Bixx worked his controls. “I’m not reading any malfunctions with the comm system, or any interference,” he said.
“—didn’t make him think I wantzzzzz—” Vic’s image scrambled for an instant, like the effect of noise on an open channel, but Ro saw that the rest of the display remained steady.
Beside the captain, Nog leaped to his feet. “It’s Vic’s matrix,” he said, and he raced over to the main security panel. Ro went with him. “Where are the sensors for the detention cells?” Nog asked Bixx.
The lieutenant pointed. “I’ve got a subpanel configured here.”
As Nog operated the controls, Ro peered back at the display. Doctor Remzi had also risen to her feet. On the viewer, the edges of Vic’s holographic body blurred, then snapped back into focus. The two agents watched, clearly unsure what to do.
“Captain, I’m reading power fluctuations coming from within Vic’s cell,” Nog said.
“It has to be the emitter,” Remzi said.
“I’m also detecting a transceiver signal,” Nog reported.
“A transceiver?” Ro said. “Broadcasting to where? Receiving from where?”
Nog continued working the sensor controls. “To and from my uncle’s bar. It’s got to be a link to the holosuite computers.”
“The emitter’s not a truly autonomous unit,” Remzi said. “That makes sense. We haven’t been able to make one work.”
On the display, Vic stood up. He held his hands out in front of himself and studied them. As Ro looked on, the singer flickered, disappeared for an instant, then glowed brightly before returning to normal. “What’s happening?” Vic asked, fear lacing his voice. “This thing isssss—” The top half of his body skewed right, the bottom half, left. His form grew hazy, then righted itself completely. His face suddenly showed as fully healed, then resorted to its wounded visage.
“Ventor,” Ro called out to the security officer, “tell Corvok and Toulet to stand by.” Bixx stepped away from the tumult and tapped his combadge.
“Vic’s matrix is destabilizing,” Nog said, a note of panic in his voice. “We could lose him.”
“What can we do?” Ro asked, looking to Remzi.
“Get him back to the holosuite, back into his program,” Remzi said.
“We can’t,” Nog said. “Bugsy Calderone wants to cut out his vocal cords.”
“Nog, one problem at a time,” Ro said. “Doctor Remzi, can we transport the emitter without losing Vic?”
“I don’t know.”
“Captain, his matrix could lose coherence at any time,” Nog said.
On the viewscreen, Vic’s image vanished entirely before reappearing. “What’sssss—”
“Do it,” Ro said. “Ventor, lower the cell’s force fields so that Nog can transport the emitter to an empty holosuite.”
Bixx returned to the main security console and worked its controls. “Force fields are down, Captain,” he said.
As Ro watched Nog call up a security tie-in subpanel to the starbase’s transporter system, she activated her combadge. “Ro to Quark.” When she did not receive an immediate response, she thought that he might be ignoring her. She raised her hand to press her combadge again when she heard his voice.
“This is Quark.”
“Quark, I don’t have time to explain, but we have an emergency,” Ro said quickly. “We are beaming Vic to an empty holosuite. I’ll tell you which one when I know. We need to activate Vic’s holoprogram.”
“Should I charge the usage to Starfleet?”
“Yes, Quark, yes.”
“Captain, transport is complete,” Nog said. Ro glanced over at the viewscreen and saw Corvok and Toulet alone in the detention cell. Nog called out the number of the holosuite to which he had beamed the mobile emitter, and Ro relayed it to Quark.
“All right,” the barkeep said. “I’ll go activate Vic’s program. Quark out.”
Ro peered over at Remzi, then back at Nog. “Did we make it in time?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Captain,” Nog said. “I don’t know.”
xi
* * *
Nog stared at the closed door, thinking of all the time he had spent in a holosuite running Vic’s program—not just in the previous five days as he’d attempted to rescue the singer, and not just in the previous weeks and months as he’d worked to upload his program from the simulation tester, but all the way back to the days of the old station. He still sometimes had nightmares about losing his leg in the Chin’toka system, but he also had important memories of how Vic had helped nurse him back to emotional health. Yes, Vic was a hologram, but that didn’t matter; Vic was also his friend.
Nog operated the door controls, and the panel slid open. It revealed a seedy hallway with which the operations chief had grown very familiar. He had never been happier to see it, but as with his previous visits, he also worried what he would find there.
“This is it, Captain,” Nog said. He walked inside, and Ro followed. The holosuite door closed behind them and faded out of sight.
Nog walked over to the door with the number 23 hanging on it. The last time he had visited, one of the door’s hinges had been ripped from the wall. In the days since, it had been repaired.
Nog raised his hand and knocked. He expected to get no response, but the door immediately opened. Vic Fontaine stood there. His eye remained swollen closed, his face bruised, his flesh covered in scabbed-over cuts. To Nog, he had never looked better. “You’re here!”
“Come in,” Vic said, waving Nog inside. He gazed past the operations chief. “You, too, Captain.”
Nog and Ro entered the shabby hotel room, and Vic closed the door. When Nog turned to face him, the singer held out his hand in front of him. The silver band of the mobile emitter sat atop his palm. “You can take this hunk of junk back,” he said. “It almost killed me.”
Ro reached over and took the device. “When I entered the holosuite, you looked like you were in trouble,” she said. “The emitter seemed like the best way to get you out of harm’s way.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Captain,” Vic said. “I’m grateful to you. But just because this thing worked as a life preserver, that doesn’t mean it can work as a way of life.”
“Are you all right now?” Nog asked.
Vic gestured to his face. “I’ve been better,” he said, “but without your help, I could’ve been worse, too.”
“I mean from the emitter,” Nog said.
“Yeah, I think so,” Vic said. “It was downright scary there for a few minutes. I felt like I was drowning and getting electrocuted at the same time. But everything seems back to normal now—which means I can’t stay here long. Bugsy Calderone’s hoods found me here once; it’s a cinch they’ll come looking here again.”
“I’m sorry,” Nog said. “I tried to resolve the situation in a way that would clear your debt with Calderone and get your life back to normal.”
/>
“Not your fault, kid,” Vic said. “Morn gave me those water rights to prop up his debt. I was skeptical, and he told me not to use them, that he’d replace them with something better, but he never showed up again.”
“A lot has happened,” Nog told him.
“I know,” Vic said. “I figured there were big problems when everybody from the old bicycle wheel stopped showin up. When you managed to upload my program to the holosuite here, and then when your friend La Forge stabilized it, I accessed public files. I learned about what happened to the old station.” He paused, then said, “Anyway, it’s my fault. I shoulda known better than to go to a hard guy like Calderone for help.”
“I think you’re right,” Nog said. “I think he’ll send his men after you. Maybe if I can make more money, I can buy him off.”
“It’s no good, kid,” Vic said. “You saw Calderone. You heard him. This isn’t about money. It’s about me diminishing his reputation, and him wanting to make an example outta me. That’s why I can’t stay. I’m only here because I figured you’d be comin.”
“What are you going to do?” Nog asked.
“I don’t know,” Vic said. “I’m gonna start by going to ground, but that’s probably not gonna work for very long this time.”
“Why don’t we just transfer your matrix to another holoprogram,” Ro suggested.
“I don’t think the code will allow that,” Nog said. “When Vic or users are in jeopardy of any kind, the program won’t allow them to escape like that.”
“It’s why I couldn’t just avoid Calderone by heading to another program,” Vic said. “Well, if any other programs had been runnin in the simulation tester, anyway.” The singer paused for a moment, then added, “Besides, this is my time, this is my place. I don’t want to live in the twenty-fourth century or the fourth century, on Bajor or Vulcan or anywhere else. I’m human, and I’m a singer.”
“There have to be other holoprograms set on Earth in this time period,” Ro said. “And even if you went to a different era or a different planet, wouldn’t living then and there be preferable to dying in this time, in this place?”
“There’s something else,” Nog said. “Vic’s matrix has been transferred to other programs for brief jaunts, but his code and memory core are in a constant state of self-examination and self-repair. It can’t do that outside the context of his original program. If we moved him to another, it’s likely that he would eventually fail.”
“Fail how?” Ro asked.
“Holes could form in his memory, his personality could change,” Nog said. “Even his physical parameters could suffer. In the end, he could just cease to function at all.”
“Not really the way I wanna go,” Vic said.
“Maybe I can figure out a way to delete Calderone from the program,” Nog said.
“How long would that take?” Ro asked.
“Honestly, I’m not even sure it’s possible,” Nog said. “Felix coded this program with strict limitations against modifications. The way he explained it to me, he wanted to make this place as real as he could.”
“Which makes this a great place to live,” Vic said, “but also a place where it’s possible for me to die.”
A hush fell over the room. Nog regarded his friend and felt frustrated that he could not help him. After all Vic had been through, after all that Nog and Candlewood and Lani had been through, not to mention Morn, it seemed absurd that the singer’s life would remain in such danger.
Then the captain spoke up. “Couldn’t we delete Calderone from the program in a manner befitting his line of work?” she asked. Nog understood at once that she meant killing the mobster. “He’s just a holographic character.”
“So am I,” Vic said.
“You’re not just a hologram,” Nog protested. “You’re more than that.”
“Yeah,” Vic agreed. “But who’s to say Bugsy Calderone isn’t more than that too?” The singer paused for a moment, then added, “But even if he’s not, killing him wouldn’t take the target off my back. He’s got a whole criminal organization around him. They won’t stop comin after me just because he’s gone.”
“I actually thought about eliminating Calderone myself,” Nog said, “but it didn’t seem to me that it would solve the problem.”
Vic shrugged. “Besides,” he said, “that’s just not how I roll, Captain.”
“Then I guess, considering how realistic this program is,” Ro said, “why don’t you do the one thing that might actually save you?”
Nog and Vic asked the same question at the same time: “What?”
“Run.”
Epilogue
Venture Capital
i
* * *
Kira Nerys regarded her sparsely furnished lodging at the Vanadwan Monastery. Her room had been kept intact during the time she’d spent in the Celestial Temple, and used by the only remaining “solid” Ascendant, a privilege granted to her by the vedek elders there. At the moment, Raiq attended services up at the Inner Sanctuary, beneath the Crown of Bajor, the historic edifice whose nine spired towers represented the Orbs of the Prophets.
Raiq had broken down when she’d seen Kira, dropping to her knees and uttering the vedek’s name—the first word she’d spoken in the more than two years since the collapse of the Celestial Temple. The two, vedek and knight, had been through a long journey together that had begun when Captain Kira had prevented the Ascendant from ending her own life. Raiq had sought understanding for the apparent death of her race, for her own unexpected survival, and for the faith that she and generations of her people had clutched with extremist fervor. She had trusted no one, least of all herself, but somehow she had ultimately looked to Kira for guidance. The two had studied together, prayed together, looked inward together. It had taken many days, but they had both eventually found a peace within themselves that neither one of them had ever before known. They had greeted each other not like two long-lost friends, but like self-proclaimed sisters, joined together not by blood, but by faith and common experience.
Kira looked around the mostly empty space of her living quarters, which consisted of a single room and an attached refresher. Populated by only a few pieces of furniture—a dresser, a desk and chair, a bed—it contained few personal belongings. She saw her beautiful old copy of When the Prophets Cried lying atop the dresser, along with some framed photographs: the Emissary and his family, Kai Opaka, Odo. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew that, under the desk, sat Odo’s old bucket, in which he used to regenerate. The memory of him brought a smile to her face.
Growing up in refugee camps, and later living on the run as part of the Resistance, Kira had never kept much with her. When she joined the Bajoran clergy eight years earlier, she divested herself of most of her material belongings. Examining her surroundings, she realized that almost all of what she retained of her forty-two years was internal. Had she actually perished when the wormhole had collapsed, little physical trace would have been left of her existence. She could only hope that the value of her life would be measured by the impact she had on others.
Kira heard footsteps approaching, and she turned toward the open door. She expected to see the silver face and golden eyes of Raiq, but instead, Altek Dans appeared. He looked hale, fully recovered from his experiences far beneath the surface of Endalla the previous week.
“I hope you don’t mind me visiting without contacting you first,” he said.
“Not at all,” Kira told him. “Please come in.”
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“It’s good to see you too.” Kira glanced around her room. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of hospitality. We could go for a walk, if you like.”
“No, that’s all right,” Altek said. “I’m not going to stay.”
“All right,” Kira said. She walked over to the desk a
nd pulled out the chair. “Have a seat.” While Altek moved to the desk, Kira sat down on the edge of the bed. “You look well.”
“Thanks. I feel good,” Altek said. “I didn’t really plan on coming here, but I was out in town for a walk, and when I passed a public transporter . . . well, the urge just struck me.”
“I’m glad it did,” Kira said. “So what town were you walking in?”
“I’ve settled in Forren,” Altek said. “Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s a small town in Hill Province,” Altek said. “Up in the mountains. There are a lot of artists up there.”
“It sounds nice.”
“It’s quiet,” Altek said, “and I like that.”
Kira knew that he had wanted to flee the sudden notoriety he’d endured, before and especially after the events on Endalla. When news broke of what had taken place within the chamber of the falsework, some Ohalavaru loudly denounced the interpretation that Altek had come to Bajor from a parallel universe, rather than from the past, and a few even focused on his Bajor having only four moons as evidence supporting their claims. Mostly, though, the sect grew largely silent, at least in public. Though some mainstream adherents continued to have difficulties dealing with all that had transpired on Endalla, and all that had been claimed about it, an overarching calm settled over believers. Kira still hadn’t finished processing everything that had occurred, but her faith in the Prophets had never wavered.
“So what do you plan to do up in Forren?” Kira asked.
“I’ve actually started to write,” Altek said. “I decided that I wanted to record as much as I can remember of my old life, back before I traveled through the Celestial Temple.”
“Is that helping you?” Kira asked.
“I’m not sure,” Altek admitted. He spoke quietly, perhaps even forlornly. “It’s hard right now, but I think it will help me down the road. I’m finding it more and more difficult to recall details from those days, and I don’t want to lose it all. I want to keep what I can.”
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