by Judith
image still on the display. He wasn't yet ready to erase it. The act would
carry with it too much finality.
"Starfleet vessels were waiting for us when we reemerged from the timeslip," he
said, shifting uncomfortably in his own awkward and confining robes, orange and
brown like a vedek's, like Weyoun's. Weyoun. Sisko sighed. He must have been
over the Vorta's words to Odo a thousand times hi the past two days. "Starfleet
vessels attacked us."
"So did Riker in the Opaka," Quark argued.
"The Opaka and the Boreth chased the Starfleet vessels away."
With that reminder, Quark began to pace back and forth in frustration. "But I
talked with Chief O'Brien. He said the Starfleet mines that were beamed onto the
Defiant's hull had countdown timers."
Sisko watched as Quark stopped his pacing and stared up at him, challengingly.
"If Starfleet really
wanted to kill you, then why didn't they use mines that exploded on contact?"
Silent, Sisko gazed at Quark, and the Ferengi slowly nodded, as if satisfied he
finally had the hew-mon's undivided attention.
"Captain," Quark said emphatically, as if to a novice who needed remedial
training, "there's an old negotiating tactic that's even more basic than the
Rules of Acquisition. If you can't convince a customer that your product is
better than the competition's, then at least convince the customer that the
competition's product is lethal."
Sisko shook his head.
Quark threw up his hands in renewed frustration. "Oh, for—it's like when
customers at my bar complain about the menu prices," he sputtered, "and I tell
them about the food-poisoning deaths at the Klingon Cafe."
Sisko felt a wry smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Really, the Ferengi
barkeep was shameless. "As far as I know, Quark, no one's ever died of food
poisoning at the Klingon Cafe."
Quark beamed with relief. "There you go, Captain. I'm so glad we finally
understand each other."
Before Sisko could say anything more, the work station buzzed peremptorily. He
turned to it in time to see the unsettling transformation of Kasidy's image into
that of Weyoun.
"Benjamin," the Vorta simpered, speaking as usual with far too much familiarity,
"may I call you Benjamin?"
As usual, Sisko ignored the request. "What do you want?"
Weyoun's smooth reaction was as if Sisko's own response had been nothing but a
polite exchange in re-
turn. "We'll be arriving at Bajor within the next few minutes. I thought you
might like to join me on the bridge. To see your adopted world in this glorious
new age."
The last tiling Sisko wanted to do was to spend more time in Weyoun's company.
But he was aware that a chance to examine the bridge might provide useful
information about the organization methods and technology used by the
Ascendancy... or whatever Weyoun's name was for the group that served him and
ran this ship.
"Should I wait for an escort?" he asked.
But Weyoun shook his finger as if he'd just heard a clever joke. "Oh, my, no. As
I'm sure you've realized by now, my crew has established an exceptionally
comprehensive internal sensor system. Someone will be watching you the entire
way, to be certain you don't get... lost."
"Then I'll be on my way."
Weyoun smiled expansively. "Very good. I do look forward to sharing your company
again. Perhaps I can help you see Quark's lies for what they are."
Discovering that Weyoun was aware of the conversation he had just had with
Quark was not at all surprising to Sisko. He doubted there was a word any of
the people from the Defiant had said on this ship that hadn't been recorded by
internal security sensors.
With a slow and deeply respectful bow of his head, Weyoun faded from the
workstation display, to be replaced by Kasidy.
With a sudden flash of anger, Sisko hit the display controls, turning the screen
black. He wished he could weep for Kasidy. That would be the appropriate
response to his loss. But his chest felt empty, as if it no
longer contained his heart. Only an unfeeling void where love had once reigned.
"If you'll excuse me." Sisko moved past Quark, heading for the open door to the
corridor.
But Quark apparently did not feel their conversation was over, and he moved to
block his escape. "Captain! I don't care if that puny-eared sycophant heard
every word I said and every word I thought. He's lying to you about Starfleet
and who knows what else!"
Sisko stared down at the Ferengi who stood between him and the door. "Thank you
for your input, Quark. I think you should join the others."
"The others," Quark muttered, defiantly holding his ground. "A crazed
Cardassian, a frustrated changeling, my idiot brother... don't you get it,
Captain? You're the only one who can get us out of this!"
"Quark, are you aware of the 85th Rule?"
"Of course I am," Quark answered testily. "Never let the... oh." His shoulders
sagged beneath his robes. "Right. Never mind."
Quark stepped to one side. The way was now clear.
"I'll see you with the others," Sisko said, turning around in the doorway.
"Right," Quark said darkly, shouldering his own way past Sisko and entering the
corridor. "Maybe I'll organize a tongo tournament. That should help raise
spirits."
Sisko watched the Ferengi stomp off along the dark, rusty-walled Klingon
hallway.
Never let the competition know what you're thinking, Sisko thought, completing
the 85th Rule.
Perhaps Weyoun was lying to him about Starfleet
Perhaps it was time to fight back with a few lies of his own.
He turned in the direction opposite the one Quark had chosen and headed for the
bridge, fully aware that unseen eyes watched him, as always, keeping his
thoughts to himself.
The Boreth's bridge was larger than Sisko had expected, at least three times
that of even a Sovereign-class vessel. Even more unexpected, there was little to
it that seemed Klingon. All the sensor screens and status displays he could see
were, in fact, Bajoran, as were the muted metallic colors of the wall panels and
friction carpet—perhaps the only part of the ship not marred by typical Klingon
oxidation stains.
The main viewer, which showed computer reconstructions of stars passing at
warp, took up most of the far wall. On the bridge's lower level, at least
fifteen duty officers were seated at three rows of consoles facing the screen.
At present, Sisko was on the bridge's upper level where the turbolift had
deposited him, and where Wey-oun was awaiting him in his command chair, its
outlines indistinguishable from those of a command chair that might be found on
any Starfleet vessel. Unsurprisingly, Weyoun's throne took center stage. What
did surprise Sisko was the fact that he wasn't Weyoun's only guest.
Standing beside the Vorta were Major Kira and Commander Aria. Like everyone
else who had been captured with the Defiant, the two women were wearing robes
typical of a Bajoran religious order. From the collar folds of the whi
te tunics
visible beneath their outer robes, Sisko guessed Kira and Aria had been given
clothing of the rank of prylar. Their nearly identical ex-
pressions of discomfort indicated that neither woman was pleased with the outfit
forced upon her, either.
Weyoun turned slowly in his chair, both hands upon its wide arms. Sisko caught
the gratified smile that momentarily flashed across his host's face.
"Splendid—just in time." Weyoun gestured for him to come closer. "Please, join
us."
Sisko glanced at the wall alongside the turbolift, where three stern Romulans
stood, each with a hand on a long-barreled energy weapon bolstered at bis side.
They made no move to stop him, so Sisko went to Weyoun, stopping beside Kira
and Aria.
"We have just been having the most fascinating conversation about ancient
Bajoran beliefs," Weyoun said pleasantly.
'Is that so?" Sisko answered. His eyes kept moving around the bridge stations,
finding so much that was familiar, so much that was different in this time.
"Major Kira was describing various punishments that some of the earlier, more...
strident, shall we say, Bajoran sects would visit upon those whom they viewed as
heretics."
"Really," Sisko said, only half listening.
"Really," Weyoun agreed. "And it seems mat two or three thousand years ago, at
least in some sections of Bajor, I would have had my beating heart cut from my
body as I watched. As punishment for professing belief in the True Prophets."
Kira smiled tightly. "In some ways, our ancestors were more advanced than we
are."
Weyoun gave Kira a pitying stare. "Really, Major, how droll."
Sisko brought his gaze and attention back to the cen-
ter of the bridge and Weyoun. 'Tell me," he said, "what punishment do you
inflict on those heretics who profess a belief in the Old Prophets of Bajor?"
Weyoun studied Sisko for a few moments before replying. "This may come as a
surprise, Benjamin, but we inflict no punishment at all."
"That is a surprise," Sisko said mildly, "considering that you told Odo your
crew would have killed him if they had heard a question he had asked about you
choosing—"
Weyoun held up a hand to cut off Sisko before he could finish.
"Really, Benjamin. You should know better. Despite my best intentions, there are
always those devoted few who sometimes act in the heat of passion rather than
restrain themselves in the cool cloak of the law."
Sisko felt rather than saw Kira bristle at that. Her dynamic presence had
always been able to charge a room.
"Oh, really?" she retorted. "So everyone on Bajor is free to follow her own
heart in choosing which religion to follow?"
"Of course," Weyoun said testily. "The True Prophets created sentient beings in
their own image. That doesn't mean shape or size or number of grasping
appendages, it refers to our possessing free will. The one true religion of the
True Prophets couldn't very well claim to represent the True Prophets if it had
to enforce its beliefs on everyone, could it?"
"But isn't that what you're doing?" Sisko seized the chance to build on the
emotion provoked by Kira. "By destroying whole worlds that don't agree with
you?"
Weyoun's lips trembled. Sisko hoped the movement sprang from anger, however
tightly controlled. An angry
opponent could become vulnerable. "I cannot be responsible for what other
people—other worlds—believe, Benjamin. By the dictates of my own conscience and
the command of the True Prophets, I must allow everyone to come to the right
decision—or not—by their own free choice. All I ask in return is that those who
don't believe as I do allow my followers and me to adhere to our own faith. A
simple request, really." Weyoun's voice became calmer as his own words reassured
him if no one else of the truth of his beliefs. "One that fits in nicely with
that Prime Directive you used to be so proud of.
"Believe me," the Vorta said piously, "the only time the Bajoran Ascendancy has
been forced to prevail against other systems or groups of systems has been when
our right to pursue our own beliefs has come under attack. We are quite capable
of acting in self-defense."
"Self-defense?!" Sisko said. "Is that what you call the destruction of the
entire Earth? "
Weyoun sat back in his command chair, frowning as he picked at the skirts of his
robe. "That, I fully admit, was a mistake."
Kira snorted in what seemed to be a combination of disbelief and disgust.
"A mistake," Sisko repeated.
"The Grigari trade delegation was not expecting the sensor barrage to which they
were subjected. Their commanders thought they were under attack, and... they
didn't realize that Earth's planetary defense system wasn't able to handle their
warning shots. One thing led to another, and..." Weyoun held up empty hands. "It
wasn't the first time a first contact has gone wrong."
"I don't believe you." Sisko made no attempt to
lower his voice as he challenged Weyoun. He felt it might do some good if the
Vorta's crew could hear what others thought of him.
But the Romulan guards gave no reaction, and Weyoun only adopted a look of
profound sadness, a false expression like so many he affected. "And that is your
right. Though in only ten more days, you—and everyone else in creation—will
have the chance to learn the truth."
"Weyoun," Sisko said, "the universe is not coming to an end hi ten days."
"Of course not," Weyoun agreed. "It will enter a new beginning. 1 knew you'd
come to see it my way."
The first thought that came to Sisko then was how much he'd enjoy simply
punching Weyoun in his sanctimonious face. It would feel so good, Sisko
thought. And then he remembered how he had felt when he had read of Kasidy's
death, the shocking numbness, and the fear that he might never feel anything
again.
Except, it seems, rage, Sisko told himself. Perhaps that was all that was left
to him in this era. Rage against those who had caused him such loss, and,
perhaps, anger at himself for all that he had left undone.
"Are you all right?" Weyoun inquired.
"What do you think?" Sisko asked.
Just then a voice behind him said, "Emissary?" and Sisko turned to see a Romulan
in an ill-fitting Bajoran-style uniform hold up a gleaming metallic padd
encased in what appeared to be gold.
"Yes?" Sisko and Weyoun said together.
The Romulan was speaking to Weyoun. "Emissary," he said more emphatically, "we
are entering our final approach."
Weyoun smiled at Sisko as he gave his response. "Standard orbit."
The Romulan bowed his head in respect
Sisko felt his stomach twist.
"Please," Weyoun said with a wave at the main viewer. Then he turned his chair
around to face it
Turning in the same direction, Sisko saw the streaking stars slow. Then a
single point of blue light in the center of the viewer suddenly blossomed into
an appreciable disk. Next with only the slightest change in the background hum
of the Boreth's engines, the stars abruptly froze in p
lace and the planet Bajor
grew until it filled the screen.
Sisko saw Kira's mouth open slightly, and he thought he knew why.
The sphere on the viewer, caught in the full glory of her sun's light looked
little different than it had hi their own time. Bright blue oceans sparkled with
brilliant light. Elegant swirls of white clouds traced the shores of the
northern continent. A dark pinwheel flashing with minuscule bolts of lightning
showed a tropical storm building majestically in the South Liran Sea.
And across the continents, verdant forests painted the land in an infinite
shifting palette of greens. There was no trace of me dark scars left by the
Cardassian Occupation and the final scourging they had inflicted on the Day of
Withdrawal.
"Magnificent isn't it?" Weyoun said. "Bajor restored. Reborn. Unblemished once
more."
Sisko wouldn't give the Vorta the satisfaction of a reply. But he was right.
Bajor had never looked better, or more compelling.
"Keep watching," Weyoun said.
The terminator passed through the screen, and a dozen cities were called out
from the night by the blazing constellations of their streets and buildings.
All of them seemed somehow bigger than in Sisko's memory.
"Is that Rhakur?" Kira whispered in amazement.
Sisko saw a sprawling web of light wrap around the distinctive dark shoreline of
the inland Rhakur Sea. But the city was twice the size he remembered.
'It is," Weyoun confirmed. "The universities there have attracted scholars from
across the two quadrants, and the expansion of facilities has been most
gratifying."
Sisko turned his attention from the viewer to Kira. Her eyes glistened with
moisture, as if she were about to cry. And again he knew why.
All her life, her world had been crippled and scarred.
Yet here it was before her, healed by time itself.
Sisko knew it was the future she had fought for, always dreamed of, yet never
really expected to see.
But he refused to let the magnificent vision beguile her. She had to know the
price her world had paid for such healing.
"And this is the world you want to destroy," Sisko said to Weyoun.
The Vorta looked over at him, puzzled. "The Prophets will destroy nothing. This
world will be transformed, along with all the others of the universe, into a
true paradise, and not just a mundane and linear one."