by S. D. Perry
“Is the status being considered as ascribed or achieved?” Ezri asked. The sociological equivalent of nature or nurture, and she was fascinated by the possibility that the Jem’Hadar were as complex as he was insinuating.
“Both,” Vaughn said. “And there’s a suggestion of personal evolution, especially among the older ones, of which there are understandably few. There’s even a possibility that the need for ketracel-white decreases over time. It’s still theory, but a series of autopsies on Jem’Hadar over the age of ten showed that some of them may actually have been producing a small amount of the enzyme. It’s not consistent, or certain; the current thinking is that it’s an age-related mutation, although it’s also possible that there was simply a bad batch of genetic material around that time, and that the flaw has since been worked out.”
Goran’agar, the one Julian tried to help on Bopak III, had been no younger than seven or eight. Julian was still firmly convinced that Goran’agar’s freedom from the white had made him less violent. There’d also been Omet’iklan and Remata’klan…both of whom Jadzia had been able to observe up close. Both had seemed much more thoughtful and disciplined than the typical Jem’Hadar soldier. And both had shown signs, as had Goran’agar, of a nagging dissatisfaction with “the order of things.” It was a sobering thought; if Vaughn’s theory was correct, the longer a Jem’Hadar lived, the more likely he’d be able to overcome at least some of his genetic programming.
But Kitana’klan is barely three…if it’s true that some older Jem’Hadar don’t need ketracel-white, the Dominion would know about it…why would Odo pick such a young representative, if age actually matters?
“Have you dealt with any Jem’Hadar personally?” Kira asked.
“A few,” Vaughn answered. “Enough to know that if your changeling friend actually chose this soldier for the reasons he gave, he wasn’t chosen at random. Perhaps he represents the Jem’Hadar ideal…. Would it be possible for me to speak to him?”
Kira looked at Ezri, who nodded. It certainly couldn’t hurt.
“Lieutenant, Commander Vaughn will be staying with us while he awaits his next assignment. Will you arrange quarters for him, and then take him to meet Kitana’klan?” Kira asked.
“Of course,” Ezri said. “Captain, will you be joining us?”
Picard shook his head. “Actually, I was hoping you might show me to one of the station’s Bajoran shrines,” he said, addressing Kira, then glancing at Vaughn. “I understand an Orb is usually kept there.”
“An excellent idea,” Vaughn said, nodding at Picard before turning to Kira. “Colonel, I hope we’ll be able to spend some time together later. I’d like very much to ask you some questions about the Bajoran faith, if you wouldn’t mind talking to me about it.”
“Not at all,” Kira said, but Ezri thought she detected a slight edge to her voice, a stiffening of her smile. “I’d be happy to.”
They split up, Ezri leading Vaughn toward the guest officers’ quarters in the habitat ring. Strange, how small their corner of the universe actually seemed after a few hundred years. There did seem to be an inordinate number of recurring faces throughout Dax’s experience, lending credibility to the idea that destiny or spirit decides who will be drawn to you.
Ezri wondered if they’d run into Julian somewhere along the way, and wondered, after eight lifetimes of love and loss and change, how it was that she could be missing him already.
Julian missed her already, but knew better than to let his focus wander as he reached Kitana’klan’s cargo bay. The Jem’Hadar hadn’t acted in a threatening manner yet, but Julian didn’t want to take any chances. He asked both security guards on duty to accompany him inside, one to stay at the door and the other to stay with him; both would keep their phasers trained on Kitana’klan.
The soldier was standing in the far corner of the room. When he saw Bashir enter, he walked slowly to meet them, careful to be nonthreatening.
“Kitana’klan, I’m Dr. Bashir,” he said, searching for something he could identify as emotion in the soldier’s face, finding nothing. “We met yesterday for a few moments. I ran the physical scan.”
“You were also at the table,” Kitana’klan said. “With the Andorian who exposed me.”
“That’s right,” Julian said, carefully and obviously reaching into his bag, his motions exaggerated. “I’ve brought you another white cartridge. I’d like to scan your metabolic fluctuations as you receive the enzyme, if that’s all right with you.”
“I have no objection,” the soldier rumbled, still moving slowly as he knelt in front of Julian and the guard, Militia Sergeant Cryan. Devro was at the door. Julian prepped his tricorder as Cryan stepped around behind the kneeling Jem’Hadar, phaser ready.
Kitana’klan pulled the neck of his stiff clothing open, revealing a sputtering tube. Julian started to hand him a fresh cartridge as he ejected the old one, thinking that he might want to reset the numbers to account for stress factors—
—and then he was flying backward, and without his enhanced senses he might have missed what else was happening, it all happened so very fast.
Kitana’klan had grabbed the fresh cartridge and then dropped flat, pushing out and kicking at the same time, managing to knock both the guard and Julian down before rolling up into a crouch.
A phaser blast from Devro, at the door, high and outside, the scared corporal’s hand skittering on the trigger—and the double thunk of white cartridges hitting flesh was impossibly fast, thunk-thunk, both hitting his right temple, the empty one not as loud, Devro falling—
—and only now was the pain registering, because Julian hadn’t managed to save himself from hitting the ground in the two seconds that had elapsed, and because Kitana’klan was leaning over him, pulling at his upper chest, the pain immediate and wet, jagged bits of glass being dragged through his flesh, catching on muscle fiber too deep, too deep.
Julian pushed at the sneering monster with one hand, reaching for his combadge and not finding it, his heart pounding. His right shoulder was in agony and he was bleeding quite badly, his neck and upper chest hot and sticky-wet, the air metallic with the smell.
Kitana’klan hit him, a stunning punch to his temple, the blows that followed hazy and painful. At some point the soldier went away, and Julian opened his eyes. There was blood in them.
He concentrated; he had to diagnose the injuries before he could treat them. He felt weak and heavy, impossibly tired, his senses not gathering enough information. His right arm was losing sensation, and his right clavicle was surely broken, he could feel the crepitation. He’d lost a lot a blood.
Nicked subclavian, maybe. Two minutes perhaps before he bled out, if he could trust his own diagnosis.
Julian managed to roll his head to the side, and there was his med kit, less than a meter away. Harder to think, his mind wandering. There was a cauterizing seal patch in the kit, he always carried one. The patch would keep him alive for a few extra moments, assuming he hadn’t suffered a hemothorax. Without a team standing by, a breach of the pleural cavity meant he would certainly die.
Julian wanted to reach for the kit but then it was gone, kicked away by the boots that walked past his flickering gaze. He thought that he should at least apply pressure to the wound, but couldn’t feel either hand anymore. Didn’t matter, he’d just bleed out internally….
Blood was splashing and getting darker, ebbing away into the encroaching swarm of blackness. His brain was starving; he’d lose consciousness and then die. The thought seemed uninteresting and distant…except he wished he had seen Ezri one last time, the thought of her face making him sad, and he thought of Kukalaka, his stuffed toy from childhood, and then he thought nothing at all.
Chapter Nine
Kira found that Picard was a lot less intimidating than she’d remembered, although it probably had a lot to do with the respect he showed to Vedek Capril, and to the Orb itself. The Orb of Contemplation was now in a private room that adjoined the shrine, and
Captain Picard had asked to see it in a truly reverent tone, confessing an interest in Bajoran artifacts.
Vedek Capril left them alone and Kira watched as Picard walked in a circle around the supported ark, hands behind his back as he leaned in closely, examining the carved detail. She knew he’d seen it before, but wouldn’t have guessed from looking at his face; his gaze was very bright, the slight smile he wore a genuine expression of wonder. His few questions indicated that he knew as much about where and when the Orbs had been found as most Bajorans.
When he finished his scrutiny of the ark, he stood straight and adjusted his uniform, still smiling. “Colonel, it seems to be a matter of fate that the Enterprise comes to be at your station.”
Kira nodded, a little puzzled at his choice of words. Picard’s ship needed repairs and access to subspace communications; she wasn’t sure that qualified. Probably means to meet with the task force.
“May I arrange to have something beamed directly to our position from the Enterprise?” Picard asked, looking at the ark again, obviously fascinated by it. “It was actually Commander Vaughn’s discovery, but I think he expects me to present it. Kind of a surprise gift, to go along with our surprise visit.”
He looked at Kira again on the last, and she had the impression that beneath his pleasantly placid exterior, he was grinning. His eyes sparkled with good humor.
“Of course, Captain,” she said, feeling slightly apprehensive.
Picard gave their coordinates to someone on his ship, and a few seconds later, a small object materialized at their feet. Kira couldn’t credit what she saw for a few blinks, thinking that she’d somehow mis-seen it, but it didn’t waver. It was an ark for a Tear of the Prophets.
“We believe it’s the Orb of Memory,” Picard said as Kira moved toward it, reaching out to touch it, knowing that it was the Orb of Memory as a sigh escaped her. The design at the opening was a series of curved lines radiating out from a central sphere, a design that every Bajoran child knew as belonging to the missing Orb.
She was speechless for a moment, so struck with awe that she forgot Picard was present. The mystical, beautiful connection to the Prophets that each Orb represented was always cause for joy, but to see one that had been taken away early in the occupation, lost to Bajor for so many years…to know that it was with them again was a blessed, precious knowledge, and for just a few seconds, it filled her up.
“Where did you find it?” Kira asked finally, unable to take her hand from the closed ark.
“In the Badlands, actually,” Picard said. “On a derelict. Commander Vaughn led the away team, so I’m sure he can better describe the exact circumstances.”
Kira straightened, the depth of her gratitude and joy inexpressible as she turned to Picard. She floundered for an appropriately diplomatic response to his miraculous gift, aware that words were insufficient but that they were all she had.
“Captain, on behalf of the Bajoran people, please allow me to thank you and your crew for what you’ve done.”
Picard nodded, a deeply satisfied look on his face. “You’re welcome, Colonel. I have some idea of what this means to Bajor, and I’m delighted to have played even a small part in returning it to you…though it really is Commander Vaughn you should be thanking.”
“I will,” Kira said, gazing at the Orb, deciding who she should contact first, thrilled to have such a decision to make. Shakaar was still on Earth, she thought, but that might be the best—
Her combadge signaled, and her bright mood immediately darkened. She stepped away from Picard and the beautiful ark, expecting the call to be trouble; she couldn’t imagine the day bringing anything else at this point, and although she’d planned to keep her expectations to a minimum, it was turning out that she couldn’t expect her plans to work out, either….
Keep it together, you haven’t slept in at least twenty-six hours.
“This is Kira.”
“Colonel, this is Ro,” Ro said, sounding out of breath. “I’ve got a situation here with Vedek Yevir, and Kasidy Yates is also present, and I, ah, request your immediate presence at the security office. Sir.”
Not just out of breath. Ro sounded like she was about to kill someone.
“On my way,” Kira said, looking back at Picard as she tapped out. Ro’s office was close, but she didn’t want to leave the Orb unattended, and it didn’t sound like she had time to track down Vedek Capril, he’d been on his way home…
…the candle cabinet. There was an indiscreet panel on the south wall of the small room, a space where extra candles were stored. The shrine was closed for the evening, but she wanted to take the extra precaution, at least until she had time to tell one of the vedeks about it.
Perhaps after Yevir leaves… An unkind thought, but sincere. She wasn’t feeling particularly trusting toward her old friend’s motives.
“My apologies, Captain,” Kira said, “but I’m needed somewhere immediately. Would you mind terribly if we put off announcing the Orb’s return for the moment?”
Picard smiled, shaking his head. “The Orb belongs to you now. And I should be returning to my ship, to prepare my own argument against what the Allies have in mind. I’m sure you’ve got enough to do without having to escort me around.”
Kira asked Picard to open the cabinet for her, and she gently lifted the ark, putting it on a low shelf. It would be safe. The Prophets had wanted it brought back to Bajor, or it wouldn’t be here.
Kira suggested that they walk together toward the security office; there was a turbolift directly across from it. Picard nodded, and they walked out onto the Promenade, Kira just putting one foot in front of the other, moving toward the next event in line. The Prophets knew that she rejoiced inside for the return of the Orb, but she had the station to consider, and the idea that Ro might stab Vedek Yevir with something had to take precedence over her own elation.
Things were bad, and they were probably going to get worse. When she realized that there was no point in trying to tell Yevir anything, Ro called Kira and then held her tongue, letting the man quietly poison the air. Captain Yates had arrived only a few moments after the vedek and had watched their exchange silently, her arms crossed, her face drawn. When he’d started his monologue, she’d turned away.
Hurry up, Kira, Ro thought miserably, fighting an urge to leave the office and an even stronger one to start yelling. Yevir was exactly the kind of man she most disliked, so convinced he was right that he believed the entire universe was backing him up.
“—worse than malicious, it was immoral and criminal,” Yevir was saying, calm and absolutely furious, his polite words dripping with threat. “I’ll see to your immediate dismissal, and that you’re remanded to the custody of the Militia’s justice department. I can only hope that you’ll find the love of the Prophets in the end, to beg their forgiveness for what you’ve done…”
Where is she? Ro looked past Yevir, and—
—oh.
Yevir was still talking, but Ro didn’t hear him. Standing not two meters in front of her office was Jean-Luc Picard. Kira was with him, but that didn’t seem as important, I knew a starship had docked but not yours…
Picard, who had once trusted her because she’d given her word. Ro hadn’t seen him since she’d broken it, but had spent many a moment in the years that followed wishing that things had been different. Regardless of the necessity of her actions, she knew she’d disappointed him, and being a disappointment to Captain Picard had easily been the worst consequence of her decision. The intensity of her feelings seemed too obvious, her own father had died badly when she’d been a child, but Ro wasn’t sure what it was; she’d just always wanted his respect.
The captain looked past Kira, glanced at Ro—and quickly found her gaze, his own as sharp as blades as he studied her, frowning. Yevir was still telling her how much trouble she was in, and Kira had turned away from Picard, heading for the office door, but Ro was frozen, feeling herself flush with shame, hoping it wasn’t showing. How m
any years had it been? Long enough for her to have forgotten what a hard place it was to be, standing in the path of his scrutiny, knowing that you’re being inspected and are about to be found wanting—
Picard held her gaze a second longer and then turned his back to her, walking to the turbolift. He didn’t look at her again.
Great, her defenses mustered, laying on the sarcasm. This is just wonderful, a real experience. I needed a reminder that I don’t belong anywhere, that I don’t measure up….
Kira stepped into the office and Yevir immediately turned his attention to her, demanding that Ro be dismissed, that she be disciplined severely. Poor Captain Yates looked as though she wanted to be physically ill.
Kira didn’t even look at Yevir, fixing her gaze instead on Ro, completely ignoring the vedek’s apoplexy. “Report, Lieutenant.”
“Colonel, it appears that approximately three and a half hours ago someone with access to the translation of Istani’s book uploaded it, in its entirety, into the Bajoran comnet. Reports are being filed to the station from every province, asking about it.”
Kasidy finally spoke, looking at Kira pleadingly. “I just got a call from the Commerce Ministry; they want to know if they can issue a release saying that I believe the prophecies are false. They said they’ve received over a thousand direct calls in the last hour from people asking to speak to me.”
Kasidy lowered her voice, but Ro could hear her. “Nerys, I don’t want to deal with this, not now.”
Kira took Kasidy’s hand and squeezed it, looking into her eyes. “Everything is going to be okay, Kas.”
“I don’t see how you can say that,” Yevir said, still managing to keep his voice down, still playing the part of the angry victim. Maybe he actually felt that way. Ro figured it didn’t make much difference, in the end; he was a fanatic.
“All moral issues aside, a crisis has been deliberately unleashed, and all because an admitted opponent of the Vedek Assembly was given access to sensitive materials,” Yevir said. “She used her position to promote her own intolerance, with no thought as to how it would affect anyone else.”