Reports. Reports. More reports. He put the padd down, a little impatiently, and pulled out his dress uniform. It had got a little crumpled in the bag. He hung it behind the door and smoothed out some of the creases, then took a step back and considered it. After a moment or two, he turned away and went over to the comm unit to check he had not somehow missed a message from Ross.
There was nothing. He played for a moment with some of the controls, and then came to a decision. It was probably best, he thought, now that he was on Earth, not to leave it too long to speak to Dad…. It was not his father’s image, however, that appeared on the screen.
“Judith!” he said, giving her a wide smile.
“Ben? Ben!” His sister grinned back. “We weren’t expecting to hear from you for a day or two yet! I thought things were going to be busy at your end?”
“They will be,” he said. “Very soon. I seem to have a little time on my hands right now.”
“Well, I’m glad you took the chance to call,” Judith said. “Dad tells me you’re hoping to get over here.”
“That’s right.”
“Any idea when?”
“I’ll…probably have a better idea later today,” Sisko said, hearing himself go cagey. Closed. He could see from the slight shift in her expression that Judith too had heard the note of caution.
“Well, I won’t press you to tell me any more,” she said. “You know we’ll be glad to see you whenever you can get here.”
“Thanks, Jude.” He smiled at her. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d be there yet.”
“I came over a bit earlier than I’d planned.”
Brother and sister exchanged knowing, worried looks.
“How is he?”
She sighed. “Well, you know what he’s like, Ben—he won’t slow down, he won’t tell me if he’s feeling under the weather…. He won’t admit it,” she said, “but I think that trip of his to DS9 took a lot more out of him than he’s willing to say.”
“To be honest, I was amazed he agreed to come.”
“I think he got a bad fright when the station was taken. Particularly when we heard that Jake got left behind….” Judith narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Now, don’t you start blaming me for that,” Sisko said quickly. “Jake fixed that all for himself.”
“Okay, okay…well, whoever’s fault it was, it made Dad jumpy. He didn’t say anything, but I think he started worrying whether either of you would ever come back to Earth again.”
“Judith, that’s crazy—!”
“No, Ben—that’s the thinking of an old man who’s getting more than a bit frail, and who worries about his son and his grandson.” She gave him a wry smile. “I think he’s just about forgiven you for forgetting to let him know you were coming. At least,” her smile became wicked, “all he can talk about is when you’ll get here. I’m sick of it, the customers are sick of it—”
“Well, I’m sorry to be the cause of so much suffering….”
“We’ll forgive you. Anyway”—she pulled a face—“I’m used to hearing how proud he is of you.”
In the middle of their banter, something they’d done for years, Sisko almost flinched at her words. Proud…
Judith was still talking of past times and childhood follies. “Oh yes, I knew there was something I wanted to tell you—an old friend of yours is making a name for himself on Earth right now.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Tomas Roeder—you remember, from the Livingston ? You brought him to the restaurant once.”
“Of course I remember him.” Sisko felt a slow smile pass across his face. “But wasn’t he more your friend than mine?” It actually flustered her, he saw, and he grinned broadly at her discomfort.
“Oh Ben,” she said, embarrassed, and shaking her head at him, “that was years ago. I only saw him once. He came to New York when I was studying there. He took me to the ballet,” she said, wistfully. “Coppélia. All the other girls in my composition class were sick with envy. He was very handsome—”
“Strange what comes back to us,” Sisko mused. “The thing I recall most about Roeder was that he fought like a machine. Came in very useful in the occasional bar-room brawl.”
“Well,” she said, mock-stern, “you judge him by your standards, and I’ll judge him by mine. It was very sweet of him to take me out. That kind of thing matters when you’re young.”
“What’s all this about him making a name for himself?”
“It’s the strangest thing, Ben—you know he resigned his commission?”
Sisko looked at her in surprise. “Last I heard he was with Internal Affairs—”
“Not anymore. Now he’s one of the leading lights in the antiwar crowd.”
“You’re kidding me?” Back on the station, they had heard only a little about this movement—if you could even give it a title that grand. A handful of people who wanted the quadrant to be a more peaceful place, and thought the Federation should start at home. From where they were sitting on the front line, it all seemed very worthy, but hopelessly naïve.
Judith shook her head. “And he’s very influential, too. It was all pretty low-key before. But now Roeder’s involved…” She shrugged. “Dad and I—I guess we have a different perspective on things, because of you.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “But a lot of people, they don’t have relatives in Starfleet, never mind someone holding the line. Roeder asks why we’re fighting this war and they listen to him.”
“Why we’re fighting this war? The Dominion—”
“You don’t need to convert me, Ben,” she said, cutting him off.
“I’m sorry, Jude. I just can’t believe that people listen—”
“But it’s persuasive, coming from someone who used to be Starfleet. People assume he knows what he’s talking about. And there’s something else about him, Ben, when he talks. When he talks about peace. It’s like he’s on a mission, or something.”
“Yeah,” Sisko murmured, “he was always very intense. It worked well with women.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, I thought you’d be interested. He’s been in the news a lot, doing interviews, that kind of thing. See if you can call up some files.”
“I might just do that,” he said. He checked the time again. The first session was due to start soon. And still no sign of Bill Ross. “Look Jude,” he said, “I’ve got to get ready for a meeting….”
She nodded. “I understand. It’s good to have you home, Ben. I’ll see you again soon.”
She cut the com. The room became quiet, just the hum of the machines. Sisko got himself another raktajino, and sat down again with the padd.
Tomas Roeder…
Sisko tapped the padd against the desk, remembering mess-room bull sessions with other bright young officers, arguing about how far you could and should go; and he remembered Roeder, one of the brightest of the bunch, smiling down silently into his drink, and then going off and doing his duty with cold efficiency.
Sisko turned to the padd, and began briefing himself on the first session. Troop dispositions along the border. Who was going to put how many of their own people on the front line. That was going to be a tough debate. After a moment or two he stopped reading, and looked up at his dress uniform, hanging up on the back of the door. Something else to be proud of.
“Computer,” he said, “how many files do you have on Tomas Roeder?”
“There are two hundred and thirty-nine files containing the name Tomas Roeder.”
Sisko whistled. Roeder had been busy. “Cross-reference that with interviews,” he instructed. “And with Starfleet. And just give me the files from the past three months.” There was a short pause, and then the answer came.
“There are fourteen files within those parameters.”
“Show me the first of them.”
He turned to the viewscreen just as the image came up. It was footage from a late night political discussion program broadcast by the Federation News Service. R
oeder was engaged in what looked like a very heated debate with Admiral Alynna Nechayev.
“I’d be ready to give that statement credit, Admiral, were it not for the fact that, as you and I both know, the Federation was putting out peace feelers shortly before the invasion of Betazed—”
“And I think we’d both agree that the situation has changed markedly since then—!”
“All that has changed is that we now have a new ally—”
“And you don’t see that as making a difference to our capacity to wage this war?”
“I certainly do, Admiral, and that’s exactly what alarms me. Because no one from either Starfleet or the Federation Council has been willing to answer some very straightforward questions. If we were prepared to negotiate a peace settlement from a position of weakness, why are we not prepared to do it from a position of strength? And, if we are indeed stronger now, are we not more likely to be able to negotiate a more satisfactory peace? What does this mean? That Starfleet wants this war to continue—?”
Sisko sucked in a breath. He scanned through the rest of the files. A couple more debates. Very angry, some of them, particularly if Roeder was up against anyone from Starfleet. There was a lot of footage of Roeder giving speeches at various venues, some a little more charged than others. Sisko watched them and drank his coffee. Judith had been right. Roeder spoke like he had a mission.
Sisko skipped back to one of the debates. This time Roeder was arguing with a Federation councillor, Huang Chaoying of Alpha Centauri.
“What I want, Councillor, is some clarity when it comes to the Federation’s goals in this war. I want to know just how far we are intending to go. Are we attempting to contain the Dominion within their new borders? Are we attempting to push them back into the Gamma Quadrant? Do we intend to go as far as waging war in Dominion space itself? By the way, I should say, at this point, that the legitimacy even of the first of those goals is questionable—the Cardassian Union is not conquered territory and its treaty with the Dominion was not signed under coercion—”
“Mister Roeder, that is quite simply false! There was a coup on Cardassia! And, consequently, not everyone recognizes the legitimacy of the government that took the Cardassian Union into the Dominion—!”
“And not everyone recognizes the legitimacy of waging a war upon the Cardassian people as a result of the actions of their leaders!”
The chime on the door sounded.
“Come in,” Sisko said, reaching to switch off the screen. Roeder’s face disappeared into blankness.
It was Ross. “Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you,” he said, as they shook hands. “It hasn’t been a good morning so far….”
Sisko took in Ross’s drawn face. He looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep. “What’s happened?”
“It’s bad news,” Ross said, and offered Sisko a padd. “About the Seventh Fleet.”
“At Sybaron?” Sisko scanned through the report. After a moment he looked back up in horror. “Dammit, Bill! What the hell’s happening?”
“Who the hell knows? Dominion counteroffensive started late last night. As if we hadn’t lost enough already in the offensive…” Ross shook his head. “That was certainly some very bad intelligence.”
Sisko thought about all those ships, and all those people, and whether or not they had had their moment of stillness. “When will we hear more?” he asked, abruptly.
“Soon. Throughout the morning.”
“Admiral, do we even know whether they’re holding?”
“Not yet,” Ross said, from between gritted teeth.
Sisko looked back down at the report. A sense of dread trickled through him as he thought of the casualty lists that would soon begin to appear. He heard Ross, muttering under his breath. “Hell, the first session is about to get under way. We’d better go down.”
Sisko looked up at him, and opened his mouth, to speak.
“Ben?” Ross gave him a questioning look.
He glanced back down at the report.
“Ben? Something on your mind?”
“No,” Sisko said, trying to draw himself back fully to matters closer to home. “I was just thinking about all those ships.”
“It’s hit me pretty damn hard,” Ross admitted, as they made their way over to the door. He stopped just before going out, glanced over at Sisko. “Not a word about it, I think, until we have a lot more information.”
“The last thing I want to do,” Sisko said, “is debate troop dispositions when the people across the table know I’m in the middle of losing a fleet.” They went out. “You think it could be that bad?”
“No idea,” Ross said frankly. “Still, there’s no need to show our entire hand. Not until we have to, at any rate.” He frowned. “Not much of a welcome home, Ben,” he said. “I’m sorry about that.”
They walked on, each becoming lost in thought, along corridors toward the conference room. When the content of his thoughts became too much, Sisko said, “I watched some of Tomas Roeder’s speeches while I waited for you.”
He saw Ross frown at the name. “Oh yes? It caused a real stir when he resigned. You know him, don’t you?”
“Knew him. Back on the Livingston,” Sisko said. “Years since we’ve spoken. No idea what he’s like now.” Then the door to the conference room opened, and Sisko found himself confronted with a piercing assembly of Romulans.
2
ODO STARED AROUND THE CARGO BAY and then turned to Brixhta. “Just how many packing cases have you brought with you?”
Brixhta began counting them off on his fingers. Even for a shapeshifter, it was a slightly disconcerting exercise to watch. Odo suppressed a shudder, and looked back across the cargo bay.
“Only twelve,” Brixhta said at last.
“And just how big a market do you think there is for your goods on DS9?”
“Some of the pieces are extremely collectable. And very beautiful—”
“Perhaps I should take a closer look?” Odo suggested. He pointed to a large crate standing nearby. “Shall we start with this one?”
Brixhta did not move. “These are old pieces, Odo,” he said. “And I am storing them very carefully. I am loath to expose them to unsuitable atmospheric conditions on nothing more than a whim—”
“I never have whims. Open the crate.”
Brixhta murmured something to himself, and then shifted toward the case. There was a control panel on the lid, and he began to fiddle with some of the buttons.
Odo folded his arms. “What are you doing, Brixhta?”
“This will help mitigate the possibility of damage….”
The lid popped open, suddenly, and with a high-pitched whine. Brixhta leaned over and began lifting out bunches of packing material. Odo took a step forward and peered inside. The box seemed to contain…another box. It was a dark green, and Odo thought he caught a flash of silver. He reached out himself and began to push some of the packaging aside to get a better look. He was rewarded with a sharp rap on the knuckles.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Constable,” Brixhta said sternly. “This is an extremely rare piece. Whitaker and Lambert manufactured only a very small number of them. And I am aware of only one other that survived the conflagration.” He began to wrestle the piece into an upright position. “Although it’s possible,” he grunted, “that a collector has another one hidden away somewhere….”
Odo drew back and watched as Brixhta worked. His curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. “What exactly is it, Brixhta?”
“Patience, Odo, patience…” Brixhta said breathlessly, maneuvering the box round. “There!” He ran a loving touch along it. “Beautiful thing, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful” was not the word Odo himself would have chosen. Bulky, perhaps. It was a large machine—quite a bit bigger than an ordinary, domestic replicator—made of dark green metal, and with chrome buffers curving round each corner and edge. On the front was a silver control panel with various knobs and dials and, be
neath it, a plate of some kind of clear plastic.
“And the real miracle,” Brixhta’s voice had dropped to a reverential level, “is that it works.”
“What does it do?”
“Watch.”
Brixhta started fiddling with one of the dials. The machine groaned and clanked. Odo took a step forward. “This had better be safe—”
“Perfectly safe…” Brixhta began tweaking some of the knobs. The device lurched forward slightly.
“Brixhta…” Odo warned. Whatever it was the machine was doing, it had started to pick up speed. It shook up and down, whined, heaved—and then ground to a complete and decisive halt. Brixhta reached out for the panel, and raised it, and lifted out what looked to Odo to be a dish filled with mud.
“Early replicator technology,” Brixhta said. “Try a bit, it’s perfectly edible.”
“I don’t eat,” Odo said, staring at the contents of the bowl. It bubbled up at him. “Thankfully.”
“I have to say that I’ve acquired something of a taste for it,” Brixhta said. He dabbed a finger into the brown mess, and then wiped it along the side of the dish. “But I’ll resist the temptation for now.” He put the bowl down on the edge of the crate, and beckoned to Odo to follow him. “Now, this,” he said, hastening toward the next giant crate in the line, “holds some truly wondrous treasures….”
He’s enjoying this, Odo thought, going after him reluctantly. Which means he has to be up to something….
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