The True Way had also benefited from the setup of Enkar Sirsy. News of the perfidious crime spread rapidly throughout the Cardassian Union, magnified and shaped to highlight the unstable and untrustworthy nature of Federation citizens in general, and of Bajorans in particular. Public calls for Cardassia’s withdrawal from the Khitomer Accords increased tenfold overnight.
Once all of that had occurred, the device that had been implanted in Enkar Sirsy had been triggered to perform its final deed. Incapacitating itself in such a way as to appear as a malfunction, it provoked a serious medical reaction in Enkar, ensuring its detection. When Doctor Bashir extracted it, he discovered Tzenkethi DNA on it. Planted there by Throk, it served to point the finger of guilt at the Coalition, which then provided Baras with justification for eventually launching an attack against not only the Tzenkethi, but its allies in the Typhon Pact.
Fortunately, Baras Rodirya had ultimately been unmasked and thwarted before he could instigate such a war. He faced a life sentence at a Federation penal colony. Although that wouldn’t bring back Nanietta Bacco, it at least supplied closure for Sisko and, he felt sure, for many other people in the Federation.
The fall of Baras from power and the election of Kellessar zh’Tarash had also allowed the Federation to renew its ties with the Cardassian Union. Similarly, those events eased tensions between the Khitomer Accords nations and those of the Typhon Pact—and especially between the Federation and the Tzenkethi. The release of Robinson from patrol duty along the border in the Helaspont Sector relieved Sisko, and the ensuing news from Starfleet Command that his crew would soon embark on a two-year exploratory mission elated him.
Sisko came to a divide in the path, and he turned to his left, away from the outer bulkhead and toward the residential units on that level. Once he reached them, he walked along another path, searching for the right quarters. Before he and his crew could begin their mission of discovery, they had been charged with one last task—an undertaking first set in motion by President Bacco in one of her final acts.
Finding the quarters to which Captain Ro had directed him, Sisko approached the door and activated its chime. He could have done what he had gone there to do via the comm, but once he had boarded the starbase to meet with Ro, he’d decided that he’d prefer to deliver his news in person. He anticipated a positive reaction—though not an ebullient one.
The door slid open to reveal Odo standing beyond it. The Changeling held the humanoid form he had long ago developed, his simulated clothing a brown outfit similar to the uniform of the Bajoran Militia. He stared out at Sisko from features etched by neither genetics nor time, a smooth-surfaced simulacrum of a Bajoran face.
“Captain,” he said. “I was unaware that you’d returned to the starbase.”
“We brought the Robinson in just this morning,” Sisko said. “May I speak with you?”
“Yes, of course.” Odo stepped awkwardly aside, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that the captain might wish to talk with him. The Changeling behaved as though he had never had any experience interacting with people. His continuing social clumsiness after spending so much of his existence living in humanoid society always struck Sisko as strange. Odo had returned to the Dominion for more than seven years, and had doubtless passed a great deal of time submerged in the Great Link, but his ungainliness when in his faux Bajoran form antedated all of that. Despite his decades among so-called solids and taking on their shape, Odo still didn’t seem entirely comfortable in their presence.
Sisko walked past the Changeling and into a comfortably appointed living area. A large picture window fronted on the grassy area outside, though it had been configured to its privacy setting and rendered opaque. Odo closed the door and followed Sisko into the room.
“May I?” the captain asked, pointing toward a sofa positioned against the inner bulkhead and facing the darkened window.
“Please,” Odo said. Even after Sisko sat down, the Changeling remained standing. “Have you returned to Bajor to resume patrolling the system?”
“No,” Sisko said. “With the starbase now fully operational and more than capable of defending itself, only the Defiant will be needed. The Robinson will finally be heading out on its exploratory mission, though not out beyond Bajor, but into the Gamma Quadrant.”
“The Gamma Quadrant?” Odo said, obviously surprised. Sisko had spoken to him several times in the prior two years about his crew’s long-delayed next assignment, which had always been intended to take the ship into unexplored areas of the Alpha Quadrant. At the time the mission had first been planned, the wormhole had collapsed, with no indication that it hadn’t been completely destroyed.
“Yes,” Sisko told Odo. “After the success of Captain Vaughn’s three-month venture there aboard the Defiant, and the Robinson’s fruitful six-month journey, Starfleet Command decided that it was finally time for a longer, more involved expedition.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Command has left it open-ended, allowing us some flexibility depending on what we find out there, but we anticipate somewhere between two and three years.” Sisko could hear the excitement in his own voice.
Odo put his head down and marched across the room. Sisko had seen him wear such a determined manner many times. He suspected he knew the concerns he had just raised in Odo’s mind. When the Changeling stopped and looked up, he said, “Captain, I know that I’ve been away from the Dominion for more than two years, but I am still interested in the preservation of its peaceful status.”
“As I would expect you to be,” Sisko said. “As I am, too. But you don’t have to worry that the Robinson crew will do anything to jeopardize that. While the Federation’s long-term goal is an active diplomatic relationship with the Dominion, President zh’Tarash and the Federation Council have made it clear that they will respect its current policy of . . . isolationism.” Sisko hesitated on the final word, not wishing to offend Odo, but also not wanting to dissemble.
“I know that you don’t approve of the Dominion cutting itself off from the rest of the galaxy, but there are good reasons for it.”
“Odo, it’s not my place to approve or disapprove of what the Dominion does with respect to its interstellar neighbors,” Sisko said. “At least, not as long as they refrain from violating the rights of other people, which, as best I can tell, they are doing.”
“Before the Dominion can become a part of the greater galactic population,” Odo said, as though the captain hadn’t spoken, “it needs to bring cohesion to its own.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Sisko said. “Is that what’s happening?” He realized his error as soon as he asked the question. As far as the captain knew, Odo hadn’t had any contact with the Founders or the Dominion since he had returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Even if he had, the Changeling consistently made it clear that he would not discuss his people or their empire. He had said as much not just to Sisko; in a face-to-face meeting before her assassination, he had explicitly stated his reticence to President Bacco.
“I don’t know what’s going on there anymore,” Odo admitted. “I hope the Dominion is cohering. It’s what I was trying to see accomplished before I left.”
“That’s laudable,” Sisko said. “There’s an old human saying: ‘In every revolution, there is one man with a vision.’ ”
“I’m not a revolutionary, Captain,” Odo said, his tone defiant. “I was only trying to provide opportunities for the citizens of the Dominion.”
“Sometimes, opportunity is revolutionary,” Sisko said. He wanted to ask Odo about the details of what he had attempted, and about the results he’d seen. He was also exceedingly curious about the Founders. Not long before Odo had ended up back in the Alpha Quadrant, Sisko had gone to visit him on the world the Changelings called home. Unexpectedly, the planet had appeared completely uninhabited. But, Sisko knew, Odo did not talk about such things.
“I’m not interested in revolution,” Odo said. “I just want to make sure that, while the Dominion is dealing with its own internal issues, it doesn’t have to meet any external challenges.”
“I understand,” Sisko said. “I can assure you that your people will not have to confront that with the Robinson crew. Our preliminary course within the Gamma Quadrant takes us away from the wormhole in a completely different direction. We will travel nowhere near Dominion space.”
Odo nodded. “I am relieved to hear that.” When Sisko made no move to leave, the Changeling asked, “Is there something else then, Captain?”
“Actually, I didn’t come here to talk about the Robinson’s upcoming mission or the Dominion at all,” Sisko said. “I came here to talk about you.”
“About me?” The character of Odo’s voice left no doubt that he did not care for the idea of engaging in a discussion about himself.
“That’s right,” Sisko said. “I’ve been authorized by Starfleet Command to transport you aboard the Robinson from Deep Space Nine to Newton Outpost.”
“Newton Outpost?” Odo said quickly, his interest plainly piqued. “I’m not familiar with it. Is that where the possible shape-shifter is being kept?”
“It is,” Sisko said. “It is an isolated and heavily secured scientific facility. If you still wish to help determine if the substance the Nova crew found is a shape-shifter, I have a weeklong window in which to take you there. After that, my crew will need to complete our preparations back here at Deep Space Nine before we head out into the Gamma Quadrant.”
“We can go now,” Odo said at once, and he started toward the door.
Sisko immediately thought to ask if the Changeling needed to pack any personal belongings to take with him, but he stopped himself before blurting out the thoughtless question. The captain had never known Odo to keep many material objects—perhaps a consequence of being able to physically become virtually any object. He once possessed a bucket he utilized as a receptacle into which he could revert to his natural gelatinous state and regenerate, but once he encountered the Founders, he no longer used it. He eventually gave it to Kira Nerys before he returned to the Great Link.
For an instant, Sisko’s mind wandered, wondering what had become of Odo’s bucket. The captain had visited Kira’s spare quarters at the Vanadwan Monastery, and he hadn’t noticed it—although he had seen several framed photographs, including one of Odo. That reminded Sisko that the Changeling also used to display a photo of Kira in his quarters on the old DS9. He wanted to ask Odo about that picture, about whether or not he still had it, and if so, where he kept it—Somewhere back in the Dominion, he thought—but he knew the personal nature of the question would have made the Changeling uncomfortable.
Instead, Sisko stood up and activated his combadge. “Sisko to the Robinson.”
“Robinson, this is Rogeiro,” replied the first officer, his words carrying the light accent of his native Portuguese tongue. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Commander, make preparations for departure,” Sisko said. “We’ll be traveling to Newton Outpost within the hour.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“Very good. I’ll be back on the ship and up to the bridge shortly. Sisko out.” He looked over at Odo. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Odo resumed walking to the door, and Sisko followed, but then the Changeling stopped before they reached it. “Thank you, Captain.”
“It’s my pleasure, Odo.”
Together, the two men headed for Deep Space 9’s x-ring, to Docking Bay Three, where Robinson had moored.
17
The volume of voices continued to increase steadily, driving Quark to distraction. He glanced up from the freestanding companel in his office and over at the room’s only entrance—the only entrance, not including the deck plate in the corner. A month after Deep Space 9 had become fully operational, Quark had paid a civilian engineer on a three-day leave from his freighter to fashion an emergency access route—or egress route, if it came to that. The Andorian discovered that an equipment conduit ran beneath the office, and so he modified the corner deck plate to function as a trapdoor, while also configuring a hatch in the conduit. He had charged Quark too much, but it made good sense to plan ahead in case of calamity. As the 243rd Rule of Acquisition cautioned: Always leave yourself an out.
“So what do you want me to do?”
Quark looked back down at the display on his companel. The gold-tinged face of the Petarian woman stared back at him, her dark eyes narrowing in an expression that seemed to mix appraisal and impatience. Of course, Quark had hired Mayereen Viray for those two qualities, among others: he wanted her to assess whatever evidence she could find, but not to take too long about it; she had come highly recommended, but she’d declined a flat rate, meaning that he had to pay her for her time. And time is money, he thought. That wasn’t a Rule of Acquisition, but it was one of the few pieces of sound business advice that he’d ever heard uttered by a hew-mon.
“Do you think it’s a worthwhile lead?” Quark asked Viray.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be talking to you about it,” she said. “But you wanted me to check with you before I incurred certain expenses. If you want me to follow this lead before it goes cold, I need to hire a fast ship to get to Ardana.”
Quark hesitated, as he always did before authorizing payment for anything. He’d already compensated Viray more in the previous two months than the combined sum he’d paid the two detectives who’d worked for him in the preceding half-year. But then, she’s actually found something, he thought, trying to talk himself into continuing to disburse funds for his fool’s errand.
“Do you really think he’s gone to the cloud city?” The famed metropolis of Stratos literally floated in the air high above the surface of Ardana.
“If he hasn’t, then somebody using his identity did,” Viray said. “Either way, I should be able to learn something there.” She spoke with a confidence Quark found reassuring, but that he also distrusted; he had heard himself employ the same tone of voice in any number of suspect business deals through the years.
“How long before you’ll know anything?” Quark asked.
“Ardana’s a long way off,” Viray said, “so the faster the ship I hire and the sooner you get me the funds to do so, the quicker I’ll have information for you.”
A burst of noise went up, and Quark once again peered over at the door. He had closed only the outer panel, and not the inner, soundproof one, specifically so that he could hear what went on out in the main room of his establishment. One voice had an annoying nasal quality to it, signaling trouble in the form of a disgruntled customer. Quark much preferred the sound of gruntled customers.
Although he had brought with him a number of his staff from his bar on Bajor, he’d necessarily had to leave many workers there, under Treir’s management, to continue its operation. He therefore had to hire quite a few employees for his new, much larger establishment on Deep Space 9. While many seemed to be working out, Quark still had some concerns about several of the waitstaff, as well as about the dabo boy, Orcam. He feared that one of those suspect workers had done something to upset the vocally unhappy customer.
“Quark?” Viray said sharply. “If you’re no longer interested in pursuing this matter, perhaps it’s time for us to sever our business relationship.”
Quark returned his attention to the companel. “No, no, I’m still interested,” he said quickly, feeling the harsh pull of retaining his profits versus his concerns for his friend. He needed to complete his personal business and get back to his real business. The midday rush would not wait, and he much preferred bringing in latinum, rather than spending it.
In his head, Quark estimated the going rates for hiring swift spacecraft to traverse the distance between Micsim IV and Ardana, then compared them against the rate he paid Viray. Once he calculated the most econ
omical solution, he accessed the account he kept open at the Bank of Luria. He verified his balance—it never hurt to randomly check your figures—then authorized a payment.
“I’ve just initiated a transfer of funds to your account at the Bank of Orion,” he told Viray. “The amount will cover your transportation to Ardana, as well as the fees for your time in transit and your first few days in the cloud city.”
“What about my return trip?” Viray asked.
“This isn’t a vacation I’m paying for,” Quark said. “Get to Ardana and show me that there’s an actual lead there, and I’ll send additional funds to cover your return to Petaria.”
Viray appeared to consider Quark’s demand. For a tense moment, he thought she would reject it, but then she said, “All right. That’s fair. I should have something for you within ten days. Viray out.”
“Ms. Viray,” Quark said quickly, before the detective could end her transmission.
“Yes?”
“Please do your best,” Quark said. “Morn was one of my best—” He thought friends, but rejected the word. “He was one of my best customers.”
“I understand,” Viray said, and it irked him to see that she probably did understand. “Viray out.”
Her image vanished, and Quark quickly deactivated the companel. He sat quietly for a moment and thought about the big, bald Lurian who had spent so many nights perched on a bar stool, first at the establishment Quark had run on Terok Nor, continuing when the Federation had taken over the station, and then finally at the bar in Aljuli after the destruction of the original Deep Space 9. Though Morn appeared to make a place for himself on Bajor, he never seemed quite right to Quark. Perhaps he suffered from the grief of losing so many friends aboard DS9, or perhaps something more afflicted him, such as post-traumatic stress or survivor’s guilt. Whatever the case, the barkeep attempted to discuss the matter with him, without result. Not long afterward, Morn vanished, though a courier arrived several days later paying off his bar tab in full. And while Quark appreciated the windfall, it had been more than a year since then, and he missed his . . . customer.
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