by Judith
could interrupt Weyoun again.
"Behold," the Vorta intoned as if reciting from some ancient text, "you shall
know the final prophecy of Jalbador is fulfilled when the False Emissary shall
rise from among those that did die in the destruction of the gateway, to face
the final battle with the True Emissary of the Prophets, and to bow before his
righteousness at the time the doors shall be opened and the One Temple
restored."
Weyoun's voice trembled with ecstasy as he concluded, "And by his return, and
by his defeat, this shall you know as the True Reckoning, which shall come at
the end of all days, and the beginning of that which has no beginning."
Sisko was unable to restrain Kira from another outburst. "More Pah-wraith
heresy!" she exclaimed. "The Reckoning took place less than a month ago! And Kai
Winn stopped it!"
Weyoun regarded her with pity. "Major, do you really believe any corporeal
being could defy the will of the Prophets? Especially a nonbeliever such as
Winn?"
Sisko could see the conflict in Kira. Winn was not the religious leader she had
preferred, but neither did Kira doubt that the Kai had faith. "Kai Winn is not a
nonbeliever. She is ... sometimes misguided in her attempts to reconcile her
spiritual duties with her political ones."
"Was," Weyoun corrected her. "Winn was misguided."
"She's dead?" Kira asked in a disbelieving voice.
"One of the first to be hung."
"Hung?!"
Weyoun sighed and bowed bis head. "You missed so much. The end of the war. The
Ascendancy of Bajor. The collapse of the Federation—"
Sisko, Kira, and Arla all said, "What?" at the same moment
"Near-collapse," Weyoun amended. "Oh, there's still a council that meets...
somewhere. Ships here and there that claim to be part of Starfleet. But all of
it is little more than the twitching of a corpse, I'm afraid."
"What about those ships that attacked us?" Sisko asked.
"Oh, they weren't attacking you, Captain. They were attacking Captain Riker's
ship in order to capture yours. Or, more to the point, to capture you."
"Why me?"
"Isn't that obvious? Without you the True Reckoning can't take place."
Sisko stared at Weyoun, afraid to draw the only conclusion that seemed logical.
Weyoun nodded as if reading his mind. "That's right, Captain. You are the False
Emissary. Risen from among those who died at the destruction of the gateway to
(he Celestial Temple, that is, your late lamented Deep Space 9."
"But if I'm the False Emissary ..."
"Exactly." Weyoun bowed. "I am the True Emissary to the True Prophets of the One
Temple, now Kai to all the believers of the Bajoran Ascendancy."
"Kai?!" To Sisko, Kira sounded as if she were about to choke. "You're a pawn of
the Pah-wraiths!"
Weyoun's smile faded. 'True, I am their servant. But
consider this, Major. Even in the fringe beliefs you cling to, when was evil
visited upon the universe?"
Whatever uncertainty Kira felt, it didn't prevent her from standing up to
Weyoun. "Bajorans don't presume to speak for the universe. But evil came to
Bajor when the people first turned away from the Prophets."
"And when was that? In your beliefs?" Weyoun added condescendingly.
"I don't think anyone knows the actual time period."
"Then approximately ... how long ago?"
Kira shrugged. "At the... the very beginning of our time on our world."
Weyoun leaned forward, his manner suggesting to Sisko nothing so much as a
spider about to complete its web. "Exactly. At the very beginning of time. And
what will eliminate evil from the universe—or, at the very least, in your
beliefs, from the people of Bajor?"
Sisko couldn't help feeling that the Vorta was about to spring his trap, and it
seemed by the slowness of Kira's reply that she sensed the same possibility.
"When... when all the people of Bajor return to the Prophets and ... accept them
as our Gods."
The Vorta nodded as if Kira had just answered her own question. "Then I ask you,
Major, what better way to bring the people of the universe—or of Bajor—back to
the Prophets than by bringing them back to the One Celestial Temple? And in all
the 'blasphemous' and 'heretical' text that you refuse to accept, what is the
one thing the Pah-wraiths always want to do?"
"Return to the Temple," Kira said reluctantly.
"Because by doing so the One Temple will be restored, and all the people will
be returned to the Prophets."
"But the texts clearly state that the Pah-wraiths want to destroy the Temple!"
Kira insisted.
Weyoun's reply was unexpected. "I agree. That's what your texts—inspired by the
False Prophets—say. Because the False Prophets don't want the Temple to be
restored. The False Prophets want to delude the people of Bajor into thinking
that the Pah-wraiths are demons." The Vorta's voice began to rise accusingly.
"But answer this, Major Why is it that the Prophets you worship hide themselves
in their Temple, refusing to come out, refusing to do anything except sow
confusion with the Orbs they inflicted upon your world, while the
Pah-wraiths—even in your own texts—are known to walk amongst the people of Bajor
and to constantly struggle to open the Temple doors?"
"Lies!" Kira said. "I refuse to listen to more of your lies!"
"Listen to yourself, Major. Where are your arguments, your reasons? You are
simply denying the truth out of habit" Weyoun was almost taunting her. "I
expected so much more of you."
"Heretic!" Kira shouted as she rushed forward to strike Weyoun.
Sisko lunged after her but before he could reach her—
—a brilliant flash of red light flared from around Weyoun, and Kira was thrown
back onto the flat stones that covered the deck.
Sisko dropped to his knees, supporting Kira as she gasped for breath, her dark
eyes wide and unfocused. Arla moved to Sisko's side to add whatever aid she
could give.
Weyoun's voice floated over them. "Forgive me. Major Kira's attack was quite
unexpected, and in the
years since we last met I have perfected my control of... telekinesis, I suppose
you would call it. A little too well, it seems."
Sisko turned to Weyoun, who still stood in front of the observation windows. "Do
you have a medkit or a tricorder—anything?" Kira shuddered in his arms, each
hard-won breath shallower, as if her throat were closing.
"I'm afraid we have no medical equipment of any kind on board this vessel,"
Weyoun said apologetically.
Sisko was appalled. Klingon ships were not known for their medical facilities,
but still they carried some supplies, if only for the command staff. "Then beam
us back to the Defiant!" He felt Kira's body arch, then go rigid as she opened
her mouth and made no sound, as if her airways were now totally obstructed.
"She's dying!" Sisko shouted at Weyoun.
Weyoun moved away from the windows and leaned down to observe Kira. "No, she's
not." He waved one arm free of his robes, then placed his thumb and forefinger
on the lobe of Kira's left ear. "Her pagh is strong. She did not journey al
l
this way to die so close to the end...."
And then Sisko watched, uncomprehending, as shimmering red light sprang forth
from the Vorta's pale hand and spread across Kira's distorted features, until
suddenly her entire body trembled, she inhaled deeply, and—
—went limp, breathing easily as if she had merely fallen asleep in his arms.
Sisko looked up at Weyoun, and for just an instant saw the Vorta's eyes flash
red as well.
"Yes, Captain?" Weyoun said, as his eyes returned to their crystal-gray clarity.
Sisko looked down at Kira, whose eyes remained closed. Her chest rose and fell
with normal regularity.
"What did you mean... 'so close to the end'? The end of what?"
The Vorta smiled like a child with a secret. "Why, not the end, Captain. The
beginning. Didn't you hear what I said? The reason you've been returned from the
dead is so the final prophecy of Jalbador can be fulfilled."
Sisko struggled to recall the exact words Weyoun had used when he seemed to be
reciting sacred text to Kira. "The end of all days, and the beginning of that
which has no beginning?"
"Exactly," Weyoun said, beaming as if at his favorite pupil. "When we shall all
be returned to the Temple, and this imperfect creation shall at last come to an
end."
Had he heard anyone else speak in that way, Sisko would have assumed the speaker
was insane. But he had seen the red glow in Weyoun's eyes. The same glow that
had been in Jake's eyes when a Pah-wraith had possessed his son's body and
controlled his son's mind.
Arla got to her feet, her voice uncertain, colored by fear. "You're both talking
about the end of the universe, aren't you?"
Sisko felt the chill of madness fill the room, as Weyoun bestowed a smile of
blessing upon the Bajoran Starfleet officer. "Oh, Commander, nothing as drastic
as that. Merely the end of material existence. But at that time, you—" the Vorta
smiled at Sisko. "—and the captain—" He brushed his fingers along the side of
Kira's face. "—and even the nonbelievers will ascend to a new level of
existence, wrapped for all time in the love and the wisdom of the Prophets."
Glow or no glow, Pah-wraith or no Pah-wraith, for Sisko, Weyoun had gone too
far. He eased Kira onto the floor and stood up to face the Vorta. "You're
insane," he said.
Weyoun merely shrugged. "Of course that's what you must think. It is demanded of
your role as the False Emissary. But rest assured that even you will ascend to
the Temple when you fulfill the final prophecy and acknowledge the True
Prophets."
"Never," Sisko said. But even as he spoke, Sisko was aware that not even he, the
Emissary of Kira's Prophets, knew what he must do next to stop Weyoun and the
Pah-Wraiths from whatever terrible action they were planning. He still needed to
learn more about this future before he could help anyone change it
"Ah, but never doesn't mean what it used to," Weyoun replied. "Not when all you
have left is fifteen days."
"Fifteen days... till what?" Arla asked.
Weyoun closed his eyes, as if at total peace with himself and the universe.
"Fifteen days until the doors of the two Temples shall open together, and the
final battle of good and evil shall be fought..." He opened his eyes, sought out
Sisko as he continued, "... and won, and this cruel, imperfect universe shall at
last pass, and we shall all ascend to the Temple for eternity."
Apprehension swept over Sisko. It was obvious mat despite the complete insanity
of Weyoun's proclamation, the Vorta believed every word he spoke.
And when the universe did not end in fifteen days, Sisko did not doubt there
would be, quite literally, hell to pay.
CHAPTER 8
in the small, low-ceilinged briefing room on the Boreth's main cargo deck, Elim
Garak read the sensor-log identification screen on the main wall-viewer, and
felt nothing.
He didn't have to be paranoid to know that he and the seventeen other crew and
passengers removed from the Defiant were under close observation. But from what
he had already deduced about the state of this time period in general, and of
the Bajoran Ascendancy in particular, being paranoid would stand him in good
stead.
The large irregularly-shaped Klingon viewscreen on the far bulkhead flickered
once, then displayed an image of Deep Space 9 as it had existed on Stardate
51889.4, as seen from the vantage point of the U.S.S. Garneau. The Garneau
was—or had been—one of two Akira-class Starfleet vessels dispatched when the
station's computers had fallen victim to some rather
clever, if disruptive, Bynar codes inserted by two vicious Andorian sisters
intent on obtaining the Red Orbs of Jalbador.
At the time, as he had helped Jadzia Dax eliminate the codes from Deep Space 9's
Cardassian computer components, he had been impressed by the meddlesome
Andorians' audacity—though given the results of their endeavors and how they had
affected him personally, he would happily eviscerate them now, very slowly.
On the viewscreen, the image of Deep Space 9 grew as the Garneau closed in. This
moment of calm before the inevitable temporal storm to come gave Garak the
chance to admire once again the stately sweep of the Cardassian docking towers
and the profound balance in the proportions of its rings to its central core. To
his trained eye, the station was an exquisitely compelling sculpture,
majestically framed against the subtly shifting energy cascades of the Denorios
Belt, and it spoke to him of his long-lost home.
None of this would he reveal to others, of course. Instead, keeping his
expression deliberately blank, he checked the timecode running at the bottom of
the image. In terms of his own relative perceptions—and what other perceptions
could there be that were as important?—the time it indicated was barely a day
ago. He had been in Ops at that moment, still working on the computer though
curious about what was going on in Quark's, where so many others of the
station's personnel had congregated.
Not that he would admit to being curious, either. Far better to be aloof, he
knew. Far better to be unconcerned. Far better to be so unremarkable and
innocuous that the passing crowd could do nothing but ignore him.
At last, something happened in the recording. A faint red glow pulsed through
three or four of the observation portals ringing the Promenade level. Garak
decided that must have been the moment when the three Red Orbs of Jalbador were
brought into alignment in the Ferengi's bar, beginning the process of opening
the second wormhole in Bajoran space—and in the middle of Deep Space 9.
The alignment had been quite a sight—or so he had been told by one of his fellow
passengers, Rom to be precise. The lumpish but loquacious Ferengi repair
technician had described how the three hourglass-shaped orbs, indistinguishable
from the better-known Orbs of the Prophets—except for their crimson color—had
levitated, as if under their own control, until they had described the
vertices of an equilateral triangle. Suspended in midair less than two meters
above the floor of the bar, they had proved impossible to budge.
Garak sighed as if stifling a yawn. But inwardly he was anything but bored. No
wonder dear, sweet Leej Terrell had been so eager to obtain the Orbs for
herself—and for Cardassia. The Cardassian scientist had been his lover once,
his nemesis many times, and was one of a scattered and secretive handful of
highly skilled and exceedingly ruthless operatives who had survived the
Dominion's obliteration of the Obsidian Order.
With the three Red Orbs in hand, Garak had no doubt that Terrell had believed
she would have the secret to creating a translocatable wormhole. If anything
could break Cardassia free of its devil's bargain with the Dominion, the ability
to open a wormhole connecting any two points in space would be the ultimate
deal-breaker. No planetary defense force would be able to
stop a Cardassian fleet that could launch from the homeworld and within seconds
appear in the atmosphere of the enemy's home. Terrell's trio of orbs and that
second wormhole would be the key to a Pax Cardassia, bringing order to a
troubled galaxy.
But at the same time as Garak fully supported Terrell's passion for freedom and
admired her patriotism for Cardassia's sake, he also secretly hoped for his own
sake that this sensor log would show her vessel's destruction. In detail.
On the viewscreen, the red emanations in the Promenade's observation portals
had become a constant glow, slowly increasing in brightness. Garak noted a
handful of escape pods already breaking free of the habitat rings. Then, almost
obscured by a docking tower, the Defiant released her docking clamps and began
to slip back from the station, moving out of the optical sensor's field of
vision.
It was just about now, Garak realized, that he had been unexpectedly beamed from
Ops into the confusion of the Defiant, men roughly pushed out the door and
toward the mess hall. And he could see that the timing of his rescue had been
perfect.
Because now on the viewscreen, the red glow had infected a full quadrant of the
Promenade module. Silent explosions ran along a docking pylon. And then, the
habitat ring began to bend like a wheel warping out of true, as if an immense
gravitational well had formed in Quark's.
As it had.
Garak continued to watch events unfold without displaying the slightest