When Robinson exited back into open space with Argus traveling alongside, the Tzenkethi did not interfere. They waited until the two Starfleet vessels had crossed the border back into Federation space before ultimately vacating the area. Sisko considered the encounter a success: there had been no casualties, and no significant increase in the already existing tensions.
As he commended the bridge staff on a job well done, Sisko noticed the counselor regarding him. He acknowledged her attention with a nod, then continued complimenting his crew. He couldn’t tell if Althouse had registered unease when he’d spoken with Nenzet Siv Vel-C. The captain knew the Tzenkethi well enough to recognize their tendency toward hyperbolic rhetoric, but the squadron leader had said one thing that troubled Sisko. Although he couldn’t precisely say why, the repugnant idea of Federation complicity in the murder of Nan Bacco carried the faint ring of truth to him.
15
Kira followed Taran’atar around a corner and into a short corridor that ended at a turbolift. As they entered the cab, she noticed an alien glyph adorning the bulkhead. “This is the only dedicated lift to the C-D subdeck,” Taran’atar told her. “That character—” He pointed to the symbol. “—identifies it as such.”
The Jem’Hadar had just taken Kira on a circuit of Even Odds’ lowest deck, which housed an impressive array of engineering facilities, as well as a number of cargo bays of various sizes and capabilities. In one hold, she saw that a substantial section of the outer bulkhead had been replaced, its bright yellow color, pebbled texture, and hexagonal component plates contrasting considerably with the smooth gray squares around it. Kira assumed that Taran’atar had endured his final confrontation with the Ascendant there, the weapon he had rigged to overload blasting the outer bulkhead apart and out into space.
After the doors closed, Kira said, “I take it that by subdeck, you mean an area that does not span the entire ship, but is situated between two decks and is readily accessible to the crew.”
“That is correct,” Taran’atar said as the cab began its upward journey. The turbolift began to slow almost as soon as it began to ascend. “The C-D subdeck is the location of what the Even Odds crew call the Wa.”
Kira recognized the name from Jake Sisko’s description of Even Odds after the ship had been destroyed over Bajor—an event that lay in Taran’atar’s future, and that would result in his death. She still wondered if she could somehow prevent that from happening, especially since she had learned that the expected remainder of his natural life could now be measured in years, and perhaps even in decades. She wanted to learn more about Even Odds and its crew before making a final decision on how to proceed, but she also knew that she mustn’t wait too long and miss her opportunity.
“What is the Wa?” she asked. Jake had described it from a sensory perspective—what it looked like to him, what it sounded like, what it felt like—but he had been short on technical and scientific details. He hadn’t been able to explain exactly what the Wa was, other than to state that he thought it had something to do with subspace and possibly other dimensions. Although postmortem analyses of the disaster suggested that a contained region of subspace aboard Even Odds might have contributed to what happened, perhaps even triggered it, the explanation lacked detail and remained only speculation. Kira looked forward both to experiencing the mysterious area, and to hearing Taran’atar’s description of it.
“It is unclear, both to the Even Odds crew and to me, what the Wa is,” said the Jem’Hadar. “It appears to be an extradimensional realm, possibly in subspace, or it may only be an access point to other dimensions. It has thus far defied my attempts to analyze it, as it had those of the crew before I came aboard. What Captain Dezavrim and the others have told me is that the Wa is usually confined to the subdeck, although it has been known to shift location, unpredictably, for brief periods of time. It has done this once during my time on the ship, encompassing an aft turbolift and a small volume of space off the stern.”
The cab eased to a halt, and the doors opened. Despite Jake’s vivid description of the Wa, the scene before Kira surprised her. A white passage stretched into the distance for as far as she could see. Circular in cross-section, its diameter varied along its extent. It measured wider, taller, and longer than any corridor she had traversed aboard Even Odds—or aboard any ship.
“Before we step out, I must warn you not to wander away from me, and not to touch anything, until I have demonstrated the Wa to you,” Taran’atar said. “Even once I have, under no circumstances must you ever approach a gray portal.”
Jake had not utilized the word portal, but he had spoken about patches of color that allowed passage from within the Wa to other places—possibly also within the Wa, possibly elsewhere. As Kira peered out of the turbolift, she distinguished those whorls of pale pigment, situated all around in no discernible pattern. It took her several seconds before she found one that looked gray. “I understand,” she told Taran’atar, meaning not that she comprehended the reality of the Wa, but that she would heed his warnings.
Taran’atar paced out of the turbolift, and Kira did as well. She stayed close to his side as they walked. She tried to focus on the walls around them, but she found it difficult even to perceive them. Soft light permeated the space evenly, though she could not determine its source.
As they moved along, the portals, as Taran’atar called them, became more apparent. She saw scores of them, maybe more, in many different shades. Some took the form of spinning balls, while others appeared two-dimensional. Some hung in midair, while others adorned the curving walls that she could not quite make out. Some of the colors looked as though they had been swirled on with a brush and left to drip downward. They all seemed most distinct when she caught sight of them in her peripheral vision, but when she looked at them directly, their hues seemed to fade, as though worn down by time.
After just a few strides, Kira glanced back over her shoulder. She stopped in her tracks. She expected to see the closed doors of the turbolift, but her gaze took in an infinite regress of white, broken only by the view of more portals. “What happened to the lift?”
Taran’atar stopped beside her and pointed slightly to the left of where she had been looking. “There,” he said. “Do you see the purple cross?” The Jem’Hadar’s voice, normally so deep and rich, sounded tinny to her, and Kira wondered if her senses were somehow being manipulated. She realized that she felt chilled, and that the scents reaching her nose smelled like something out of a barn—like dry hay and wet animal hides.
Kira did not see a cross, and so she searched for the color purple. When she found it, she saw that it did indeed resemble a rough X shape. It looked to be a meter or so in height, though she did not trust her sense of scale in those surroundings. “I see it.”
“That marks the location of the turbolift,” Taran’atar said. “The cross can appear in different colors, but the shape doesn’t change.”
“It looks so far away,” she said. “We haven’t come that far.”
“Regardless of your location within the Wa,” Taran’atar said, “that is how the turbolift appears.”
“How can that be?”
“I do not know,” Taran’atar said. “I initially suspected that a mind-altering substance infused this place, but I now believe that the Wa is a controlled point of spatial interphase between multiple universes or dimensions.”
“Controlled how?”
“I do not know,” Taran’atar said. “No science of which I am aware would explain how such a thing could be accomplished.”
Kira shook her head, then slowly turned in place, examining the Wa. It no longer appeared to be a tunnel, but more like an oversized, vaguely hemispherical chamber, although its walls and ceiling—and even its floor—seemed present only by implication. “What is the purpose of this place?”
“I do not know,” Taran’atar said again. “The crew of the Even Odds genera
lly treats it as an amusement. It is also where most of them hid when the Ascendant attacked the ship. Its original purpose appears to have been lost with its makers.”
“And who were they?” Kira wanted to know, although she correctly anticipated Taran’atar’s reply.
“I do not know,” he said. “According to Captain Dezavrim, he purchased the ship from a salvage dealer almost twenty years ago. The dealer claimed to have found it derelict in space. As far as I’ve been told, the location, identity, and even the species of those who constructed the Even Odds are unknown. That may or may not be true; I do not necessarily believe everything that the captain says, but it is clear that the rest of the crew subscribe to the mysterious nature of the ship’s origins.”
Kira had heard similar details about the Even Odds from Jake—including the suspect nature of its captain’s declarations. He also told Kira about the patches of color in the Wa, but she wanted to learn about them from Taran’atar. “You called the colors portals,” she said. “Where do they lead?”
“To various environments that essentially resemble rooms,” the Jem’Hadar said. “Some contain inscrutable equipment. Others contain what may be artwork, and others, what can probably be best described as entertainment, some of it interactive. Still others appear essentially empty, although each typically retains something unique about it, like a certain color or scent or sound.”
Jake had spoken of watching a floating sphere spin itself into a sculptural representation of a star as an example of the environments to which the portals could lead. He also mentioned the empty spaces, as well as those filled by enigmatic machines. Because of what had happened—or what would happen—to the Even Odds at Bajor, the environments with alien equipment most interested Kira.
“Can we go through some of the portals?” Kira asked.
“You may select one for us.”
Kira gazed around to find the closest one, but while she could distinguish those near from those farther away, she had trouble estimating precise distances. Because of that, she chose one at random, an orange ball just off to the right. “How about that one?” She walked with Taran’atar in that direction, but it took longer than she’d anticipated. When they arrived before it, she saw that what she had perceived as being roughly the size of a humanoid head actually measured more than a meter across. “How do we use it?” she asked.
“It varies from portal to portal,” Taran’atar said. He reached forward and waved the flat of his hand before the orange surface. Nothing happened. He took a step closer to it, almost touching it, and still nothing happened. Finally, he reached out—
—and with no sense of transition at all, the two of them stood in another place. As with the first chamber of the Wa, she felt the boundaries of the environment more than saw them. The place felt far more confined than where they had been, more like a room, as Taran’atar had suggested, even though there seemed to be nothing at all in the space. She waited for something to happen, or even just to see something. At last, she said, “This place is empty.”
“It would appear so,” Taran’atar agreed. “It may be that the focal point of this environment is simply the shade of its light.”
Kira looked around and realized that Taran’atar was right: the white of the environment radiated a slightly different tint than that in the main chamber of the Wa. She also saw that no colored globes or swatches hung in the air or on the walls—including the orange one through which they had come. “How do we leave?”
“There is a focal point in most of the environments,” Taran’atar said. “In the case of empty environments, it is just the center of the space. To exit, just step back from the focus or the center.”
Together with Taran’atar, Kira stepped backward and immediately found herself in front of the orange portal. She marveled at the instantaneous nature of the travel. It surprised her that the speed of the shift from one place to another caused her no disorientation. “I’d like to try another,” she said. Taran’atar nodded, and she pointed to a green sphere. They started toward it, and Kira prepared to reach out to it, but when they got close, they passed through it without warning.
Again, they stood in an environment far smaller than the main chamber of the Wa, but larger than the one in their previous excursion. The tangy scent of the ocean filled Kira’s nose. Before them, a misshapen mass of metal rose three or so meters from the floor, its surface fitted with several triangular pieces of glass, which might have been displays or readouts of some kind. She had seen nothing like it. More than anything, the object’s twisting form reminded Kira of melted candle wax. It narrowed about a third of the way up its length, and then again at two-thirds. Where it did, Kira saw cavities in the metal. When she moved closer and bent to examine them, Taran’atar said, “Do not touch the device.”
Kira straightened. “I wasn’t going to,” she said. “I said I would adhere to all of your warnings about the Wa.”
Taran’atar stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head. “Forgive me, Captain,” he said. “I did not mean to imply that you would act rashly.”
Kira smiled at the comment. “Why not?” she asked. “The truth is, I’ve been acting rashly my entire life.”
“Are you making a joke?”
“Only if you think the truth is funny,” Kira said.
Taran’atar paused, and then said, “Jem’Hadar do not think anything is funny.”
Kira laughed. It amazed her to think how right Odo had been about the potential of the Jem’Hadar to be more than they had been bred to be by the Founders. If he lived long enough—if he could survive the destruction of the Even Odds, or if that destruction ended up not happening—he could become a living example to the rest of his kind—as well as an object lesson to those who would deny anybody the right of self-determination.
Bending down again, Kira studied the cavities in the device. It looked as though, if she reached out, she could fit three fingers into the grooves there. “What do you suppose this does?”
Taran’atar actually sighed. “I do not know,” he said, his continual refrain since they’d entered the Wa. “In my time aboard, I have seen numerous examples of technology within the environments of the Wa. I have neither recognized nor been able to reasonably conjecture about the function of any of them.”
“Are they all like this?” she asked, returning to the Jem’Hadar’s side.
“No,” Taran’atar said. “Nothing that I have seen has looked like this. Each piece of equipment appears drastically different from the next.”
“Dez hasn’t tried to puzzle them out?” Kira asked. “Or tried to remove them so that he could study them, or even peddle them somewhere?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Taran’atar said. “I have been told that Atterace Prees, the chief engineer, spent a great deal of time studying the devices in the Wa when she first came aboard, but she was unable to make sense of any of them. She still visits the Wa, but strictly as a diversion.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps even more telling, Prees told me that she once brought Srral into the Wa,” Taran’atar said, referring to the artificial, liquid life-form that served the crew as an engineer. “She introduced it into one of the devices in the hopes of learning something about the technology. Srral became trapped, unable to leave the equipment. The crew eventually had to employ a vacuum chamber to extract it.”
“And Srral didn’t learn anything at all?”
“Various crew members have quoted him to me, saying that he described the technological environment as ‘extremely alien.’ Because of Srral’s own peculiar nature, Captain Dezavrim and the others afforded that description considerable weight.”
“I can imagine,” Kira said, not entirely sure herself about the fluidic being’s “peculiar nature.” Not only did its life not resemble Odo’s in any way, but it apparently spent its existence inside technological equipment.
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br /> “Srral also confirmed something Captain Dezavrim had long suspected,” Taran’atar said. “A considerable amount of power courses through the Wa and its many environments.”
“Power that must be provided by the ship’s engines,” Kira said. “Why hasn’t Dez been able to verify that?”
“Because the power within the Wa is not produced on the ship,” Taran’atar said.
“What?” Kira said. “How can that be?”
“Nobody aboard understands the mechanism by which it is accomplished, but the Wa must get its power elsewhere.”
“Do you mean . . . from another dimension? Another universe?”
Taran’atar just looked at Kira, but didn’t bother to provide what had become his standard response to questions about the Wa: I do not know. “Wherever the power comes from, Srral estimated it as enough to destroy a planet.”
The statement shocked Kira, but she also thought it explained what had happened when Even Odds had reached Bajor. It also made her realize that, no matter what else she did, she had to ensure that the ship made it there by the time it would be needed. And maybe sooner than that, she thought, speculating that, if Even Odds arrived sooner than it originally had, she might be able to save thousands of lives—including that of Taran’atar.
Or maybe I should simply follow the Temporal Prime Directive and work to maintain the timeline by helping events unfold just as they did when I lived through them.
“Enough power to destroy a planet,” she said. “That sounds like a good reason not to try to operate equipment you’ve never seen and don’t understand.” She pointed back the way they had entered. “Can we try another?” she asked. “I’d like to see some of the supposedly entertaining environments.”
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