STAR TREK DS9: WHAT YOU LEAVE
BEHIND [065-jgg-dance]
  By: DIANE CAREY
  Synopsis:
  NOVELIZATION OF THE FINAL TV
EPISODE.
  "I need your help, Dukat."
  Kai Winn rose from her chair, crossed the rug
that separated them, and finally stood before him. "It's as
simple as that."
  He turned his hands up. "All you have to do is
ask."
  He reached for her hand-amazingly, she gave it.
So she was still angry with the Prophets, or
perhaps beyond anger and well into bitterness.
  "comtgr," he said, "we will free the
Pah-wraiths so that they can tear down the Celestial
Temple and destroy the PR-OPHETS."
  "And their Emissary as well."
  Dukat tucked his chin. "No. Ben amin
Sisko will be dealt with by me, and me alone."
  "Assuming he survives the invasion of
Cardassia" the Kai observed cryptically.
  "He'll survive," DukAt grumbled. "But
I promise you, he'll wish he hadn't ......
  The sale of this book without its cover is
unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a
cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the
publisher as unsold and destroyed." Neither the
author nor the publisher has received payment for the
sale of this "stripped book."
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons living or dead is entirely
coincidental.
  An Original Publication of POCKET
BOOKS POCKET BOOKS, a division
of Simon and Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the
Americas, New York, NY 10020
  Copyright (D 1999 by Paramount Pictures.
All Rights reserved STA-RATHER TREK is a
Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.
  This book is published by Pocket Books, a
division of Simon and Schuster Inc. under
exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.
  All rights reserved, including the right
to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever.
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  ISBN: 0-671 03476-6
  First Pocket Books printing June 1999
  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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  colophon are registered trademarks of Simon
and Schuster Inc.
  Printed in the U.s.a.
  "Doctor Bashir The time is
oh-five-hundred At least he wasn't alone.
  "Right. . . ." Oh, how he hated the garlicity
voice of that computer in the morning.
  The light hurt his eyes.
  "Julian ... we have to get up."
  A much nicer voice. Julian Bashir shifted
his arm to cuddle mode as Ezri Dax maneuvered
herself closer.
  "Are you sure?" he asked.
  "It's a big day," she told him. There was a
faint dose of fearful anticipation in her voice.
A week ago, he wouldn't have noticed it, but things
changed here every day lately.
  "It was a big night," he countered. "It cleared
up a lot of questions."
  She turned her pixie-like face up to him. A
childlike
  face, framed in boyish short-clipped black
hair, a permanent flicker of uncertainty always
passing through it.
  "Such asThat" she asked.
  He brushed his hand along the trail of melanin
spots on the side of her face, the subtle
markings that identified her as one of the most
elegantly unique creatures of the known galaxy.
"How far those spots go down, for one thing' She
smiled, but not without a sparkle of embarrassment.
"I suppose you're going to want to tell
Miles."
  "Why would I do that?"
  "Because you tell him everything?"
  Without saying that today they'd all have other things on
their minds, Bashir pushed away the rush of possible
answers--he was right, he did tell Miles
O'Bnen everything-and how did she know that about the two
men already? She was wrong, and he knew when digs between
a man and a woman, or a man and a Trill, or a
somebody and a somebody else were better kept
private.
  Rather than blurting what he was g-my God,
you're so young!-he admitted,
  "True, but this time, I'll make an
exception:" "Good:" Ezri murmured. She
didn't believe him, he was sure of that "Now, we
re ally should get up. We don't want the
Defim leaving without us."
  "You know," Bashir mentioned,
  "I've never gone into battle with someone I've
slept with " She smiled. "There's a first time for
everything."
  Not making any move to get up, Bashir added,
  "Now that we're finally together, it'd be a shame if
anything happened to one of us."
  Another twist came into her expression, and she
didn't say any more, but Bashir picked up her
thoughts as if he had suddenly become
clairvoyant. She had been so lonely, so
unsure of herself since having seven lifetimes of
memories thrust upon her from another person, and
another and another ... her own identity had
abruptly been put on hold, and she was now
responsible for a cache of thoughts and knowledge that she hadn't
absorbed. Not all Trill prepared all their
lives to have a squirmy receptacle thrust into their
bodies and then take over their existence. She was,
as far as anyone knew, the only Trill never to be
prepared for joining. That made her very special.
  Bashir tried to enpathize, but how could he? He
was one man, inside one body, with one lifetime
to worry about. Yet he admired and pitied Ezri
Dax in the same moment, and he questioned his own reasons
for wanting the comfort of her touch in these troubled times in
deep space.
  "Let's make a pact"" she said. "We both
come home alive."
  A handshake-simple, but potent.
  He took the hand. "You've got yourself a deal."
  She smiled. "I'm going to hold you to that
was No, no, this wouldn't do. He leaned toward her,
and she met his kiss thankfully, with welcome in her
eyes.
  But then it was over, and before anything else could set
in they had rolled out of bed on opposite sides and
might as well have landed at opposite ends of a
football field.
  Ezri drew her uniform on very quickly, as if the
blankets had been her protector and now she
couldn't be unprotected. And Bashir,
ridiculously, had yanked on his trousers quite faster
than usual-now how was that a way for a grown man and
physician to behave? As if he were dressing in
front of a ... all right, she was very young, never mind
that she was three hundred years old.
  The medical wonder of Trilldom struck him
again certainly this girl was no three hundred years
old, yet the eight accumulated lifetimes and those of
eight hosts all stored within her unprepared mind
reached back all those centuries, racking her with
confusions he could only guess toward. Sixteen
lives bottled up inside that girl over there, who
yet was pifm in her isolation.
  As were they all, upon this turning wonder. As were they
all.... "Aand It's! You're late! You
have to report in fifteen minutes. It "Coming,
dear."
  Oh, yes, the joy and fliffirment of having his
family with him finally!
  n only there weren't a war. Every beginning of
watch was like this now-the laughter of his children, the humming of
his wife, the clatter of family life-nd he
knew too well how quickly that paradise could crash
and burn. He'd seen it before, the war coming out of nowhere
to Deep Space Nine and lashing the station with all the
complex agonies and strife caught up in those three
little letters . . . w, a, rather... Thank the Lord the
baby couldn't spell yet. But Molly could, and she
understood.
  That caused pain to Miles O'Brien, as he
stepped from his bedroom, pretending there was no care in
the universe that could shatter him today. It was only for the
children.
  He couldn't fool Keiko.
  "Now, remember," he told his wife as she
turned to him while feeding the baby,
  "Kirayoshi has his checkup tomorrow morning at
oh-nine-hundred was She nodded, and he felt
silly for having pretended she didn't remember.
  By reminding her, he was also putting a
spotlight on the fact that he wouldn't be here tomorrow.
He was leaving, and asking her to go on with family
life as if not tung were wrong, nothing were happening.
  "I've already confirmed the appointment with Nurse
Bandee" she said courageously. "One more bite...
"And try to get some rest:" O'Brien pressed
on, "and don't stay up too late writing that
paper on whatever those trees are called."
  "They're called Arfilhan blossoms and
they're not trees, they're shrubs."
  He sighed. "All right ... anyway, be sure
to get some sleep and ... oh, yeah, and-"
"Miles:" Keiko scolded gently, "stop
worrying. We're going to be fine."
  Fine, she said so easily. Back here on the
station, trying to play house on the edge of a war zone,
living in a pretty little cottage made of alien
metal, just barely managing to keep out the in
hospitableness of space with bulkheads that could be so
easily raptu red by enemy fire.
  Just a few light-years from the front-was this a
place to raise a family? He had thought being together
would make up for all the risks, for the tortures of
knowing where he would be for the coming days.
  He'd been wrong.
  "I know," he said anyway, and leaned over for a
kiss.
  "Just you be careful," Keiko told him.
  "I always am-MoBy, don't touch that!"
  His daughter recalled her hand just before it would've
violated the sacred space around the model he and
Bashir had so lovingly built.
  Then she realized her hand had come away with one of the
miniature US Army soldiers. Quickly she
reassigned the soldier within the Alamo walls.
  Only as his little girl's ivory hand dipped over
the adobe stone partition did O'Brien realize how
very large the model had grown. Now taking up a
significant portion of the room, the Alamo
seemed very real and consequential to him, its soldiers
like shipmates. He and Julian had committed many
hours to this historical problem of siege and
conflict, supply and isolation. One needn't be a
scholar to see the symbolism, and how close he
felt to those trapped men and women, struggling to hold
out against impossible odds
  "I let you play with my toys"" Molly
complained.
  "It's not a toy," he insisted. "It's a
model."
  Keiko's doll-like eyes teased him as she
continued feeding the baby.
  "comMen maybe it belongs in a museum."
  O'Brien glanced at her, suddenly embarrassed
that the Alamo had sucked away such a large portion
of their living quarters. Did seem to have taken over,
didn't it?
  "I suppose I could give it to Julian. . .
."
  "Sounds good to me was Keiko instantly said.
"Speaking of Julian, have you told him about
Starfleet's offer yet?"
  "I haven't had time," he stalled.
  Molly wedged her way between them. "I knew it!"
  O'Brien looked down. "What's that supposed
to mean?"
  "We're not going back to Earth," his daughter
told him bluntly, "that's what it means."
  "Of course we are:" O'Brien said to her.
"Daddy's going to teach at the Academy ... as
soon as the war's over."
  Molly's big brown eyes batted at him.
"comThen why haven't you told Julian?"
  As O'Brien groaned, Keiko smiled. "Out
of the mouths of babes."
  Guilt grazed O'Brien's sense of honor and
duty. "I'D tell him ... when I think he's
ready to hear it:" To get himself out of this, he ducked
down to kiss Kirayoshi's plump little face. "I
love you. Be a good boy, now. And you," he said,
W'g again to Molly, "listen to Mommy while I'm
gone."
  "I always listen to Mommy."
  As his daughter pranced away, NU-LES
O'Brien found his wife in his arms, a rather more
poignant gesture than his little girl's farewell.
He felt ghastly about Molly's not knowing where he was
going today, that this wasn't an ordinary patrol or
your average mission away from the station. Was she old
enough to know the truth about where he was going? Should he pay
her the respect of telling her? What did the men
tell their daughters as they left for Normandy
Beach? Protect them with soft deceptions, or
give them the honor of knowing what their fathers were setting
off to do? Teer them it was nothing, or that it was more
important than anything ever before?
  Should he spare the little girl, or should he think of the
woman she would be someday, a woman who deserved
to be proud, to remember a significant and
poetic moment of farewell with her father, who
might never return?
  Why wasn't he wise enough to know what to do?
  Keiko held him tightly, not in a kind of
goodbye, but in a kind of sorrowful pledge. Every parting
was the last, just in case, and every kiss a promise.
  "Just you be careful," she murmured.
  "I always am."
  He always said that, or something like that. An extra
squeeze-the sure sign that he could no longer fool
her or assure her away from the cold bitter
truths of Starfleet service in these dangerous
days. She knew too well how quickly, how
permanently, things could change on, and around, and because
of ... Deep Space Nine.
  "How's that?"
  "It's doing wonders for my head. Except it's
my stomach that's bothering me."
  "Well, if it helps, morning sickness usually
ends after the first trimester."
  "That's three months! I don't think I'm
going to make it!"
  "You'll make it."
  That's an order Oh, better not add that part.
Still, it so often did the trick-wnce a commander, always
a commander. Don't say it, don't say
it.... Orders came much better from his low-pitched
and decidedly unfeminine voice. How could he
rumble out a comfort without sounding like a foghorn in the
distance?
  He could no more make her feel better than
create wind in space.
  Always a conmmder, but it had been twenty-odd
years since Benjamin Sisko had last become a
father.
  Twenty very odd years, one might say. Tending
a deep space station in upheaval, in a war zone,
with cloaked enemies spinning around at arm's length was
nothing to tending a woman in the first gap of motherhood.
  He'd completely forgotten the whole idea,
having had absolutely no plan of getting himself
into this all over again.
  Still, he found himself working too hard to press down
a grin.
  Couldn't let Kasidy think he was laughing at
her discomfort. For her, this feeling represented no
real live baby, not yet anyway, for she had never
experienced the wonder of new life in her arms. For
Kasidy Yates, this was little more than a
recollection of space sickness, so long ago
conquered. For Ben Sisko, though, it was a
tiny beacon of hope and joy in a very bleak void.
He longed for the cry of his child, the wonderment in tiny
searching eyes, and as any soldier understands, something more
in his life to right for instead of fight against.
  She lay her head on his shoulder. "Promise
me something, Ben"" she moaned. "Promise you'll
come back to us:,
  "I promise."
  Yet they both mew the power of that promise
wasn't in his control.
  Suddenly her eyes shot wide, her face
flushed, and she bolted to her feet, rushing for the head
like a phaser shot. The door panel slid open,
barely fast enough, then hissed shut behind her in time
to spare Sisko the joyous sounds of impending
motherhood.
  "I don't believe it...... she said slowly.
  "I said I promise," he insisted.
  "It's not that."
  He wanted to help her, to change things on her
behalf-but he'd learned long ago he couldn't take
a hit for anyone in his crew, and there were certainly
things he couldn't do for the woman he loved. Men
since time immemorial had been unable to do much, no
matter what technology they concocted for the
advancement of life's qualities.
  Oh, well.... The main door chime spared his
having to go over there and mutter comforting sounds into the
bulkhead.
  "Come in," he called.
  The door opened and his first claim to empathy
wraithed in, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
  "Glad I caught you." Jake Sisko bumbled
to the replicator, apparently thinking about coffee,
then changed his mind and didn't order anything.
  "I figured I'd walk you to the Defiant."
  Sisko stood up. "I'd like that."
  "How's Kas?"
  Through the bulkhead she answered for herself with a moan.
  that answer your question?" Sisko said as the head
panel opened again and the light of his life staggered
back to the couch.
  "Reports of my death," Kasidy complained,
"have been greatly exaggerated. But not by much."
  Jake frowned. "Isn't there something you can take
to make you feel better?"
  Sisko shook his head and waved a quick hand, not
wanting that subject opened up again. He'd been
bitten often enough on that suggestion.
  "She doesn't believe in taking
medication unless it's absolutely necessary."
  When Kasidy groaned again, Jake shook his
head.
  "Sounds necessary to me...... "If you're going
to go," Kasidy snarled, "then go.
  Waiting for you to leave only makes me feel
worse."
  Sisko moved to gaze down at her, determined
by proximity if nothing else to show her that he was
trying to be supportive. "You're sure I can't
get you anything?"
  But she was gone again-back to the head. Zoom.
  I-Ess. Clack. Heave.
  Despite his amusement, Sisko's pride as
he turned to his son got the better of him, and he
grinned. "I think she's sure."
  "Tunes like this"" Jake commented, "make me
glad I'm a man."
  "The too" Sisko admitted as they went out the
door side by side. "Damn it, now I feel
guilty about it. Well, I suppose that Mother
Nature in her wisdom put the better
individuals in charge of ... of.. ."
  "The hard part," Jake leered sidelong at him.
"Are you saying men are wimps?"
  "No, but I do feel bad lately."
  "About what?"
  "Well ... about getting a good night's sleep,
for one thing."
  "Why should that make you feel bad?"
  "First of all, because it's hard for Kasidy to get
one.
  She keeps tossing and turning. And that excuse
for a goodbye ... she was doing everything she could to avoid
a real goodbye. She thinks they're bad luck."
  "She told you that?"
  "Not in so many-was "And what else?" Jake
interrupted. "What've you got to feel guilty
about? You're in charge of a primary outpost in the fl
fiddle of a center of action. Most military men would
grovel to get a position like yours! All the news
networks are constantly buzzing about activity at and
around Deep Space Nine! The comings and goings, the
ships in and out, the changes of control over areas of
space around here-Dad, WTYX on Devona
Four actually has a DS9 update twice a
day!"
  "Hen. There's not that much news coming out of here, I
hope:" Sisko drawled. "After all, we do have
our strategic and tactical secrets
to keep. There's a limit to the people's right to know."
  was "I don't think so:" Jake countered.
"Freedom of the press" " "Not going to be the first
topic of this day, of all days, thank you very much. I
already tell you too much, if you get my meaning."
  "And I've put my position as the commander's son
before the people's right to know. I understand the importance of
secrecy too, you know."
  Jake shrugged.
  "It's still no reason to feel guilty. Getting
a good night's sleep, I mean."
  "comThat's not re ally it," Sisko admitted.
"The station's on constant alert status, permanent
yellow alert, every Starfleet crewman required
to be ready to report to battle stations in three
minutes or less, and every one of us, including the
illustrious commander, required to get rest on pain
of siccing Dr. Bashir on you with a sedative. Did
I give that order? What was I thinkingt' "You were
dimng," Jake said instantly, "that everyone in
uniform on this station is just like you-wanting to stand three
watches in a row because you can't get work off your mind
and you know the Dominion or the Jem'Hadar or the
Cardassians or somebody's going to come out of the
darkness at us at any given time. And you also
know that the longer the quiet, the louder the attack. You
know they're not just sitting out there quietly
contemplating the stars. They're building up for
assault."
  Sisko drilled him with a glare. "Who told you
that?"
  "Nobody. I just know how you think was "Hen . .
. that's what I get for being such an open and forthcoming
fellow."
  "Oh, brother."
  "Got myself into this," Sisko nserated. "Now
even I can't come back to my office after my watch
without breaking my own order and setting a bad
example. And even today, of all days, I have
to keep up a sense of order and not come out of that door
one minute early.
  I've been up for two hours."
  "When everything breaks loose:" Jake said,
"you'll be glad your crew is rested."
  "I know, I know. But weeks of making every morning
seem normal-it takes its own kind of toll. I
see it 'm their faces. He nodded as two young
officers passed by, offering their commander a curt
good-morning.
  "They're not fooled by the illusion of
normalcy. It's like we're all lying to each other
a little more every day, Jake. They know this can't go on, but
no one knows when it'll break. The tension's growing.
  I know how to fight a battle ... but there's
nothing I can do to hurry an incoming tidal wave that
I re ally hope never gets here. Here we are in
the middle of a war, suffering from actually not having enough
to do, hour by hour. It's like the Alamo, waiting to be
attacked, unable to prepare any more, and knowing it's
coming."
  "The Alamo:" Jake droned. "You've been
listening to Miles and Julian, haven't you?"
  Sisko gazed down the long curve of the
Promenade, and noticed that the clutter of activity
wasn't as noisy as usual. "The irony of their
little project hasn't been lost on me, let's just
admit."
  "It's only their way of . .
  "Coping, I know. That's what I mean. They
can't do any more to get ready for what we have to face,
and we have no idea when we'll have to face the next
wave. A war of intrigue is a lot harder
to fight than a war of battles. Unfortunately,
we've settled into the intrigue stage.
  There are fewer casualties, but the
price is stw high.
  We're being eaten by millimeters instead of in
gulps.
  Look at them, Jake ... trying to live their
lives as if nothing's wrong. As if
sector-wide communications blackouts happen every
day."
  "They're brave;" his son attempted as they
passed the shops, rounding the bend toward Quark's
bar.
  "They're lying to themselves," Sisko reminded.
  "And to each other. There's nothing normal here,
certainly not today.
  They can't even write home to their relatives
about it. We're under a general alert-no private
communiques, no advances to the news service, and not
even a DS9 update. Not today, and maybe never
again."
  He stopped wa wing, and took his son's arm.
"I don't want you to see me off. I want
to say goodbye right here" was Jake seemed briefly
insulted, then instantly knew better. "My?"
  Sisko paused. "Finally the Cardassians and the
Jem'Hadar are going to have to face all of us-to
gather-rather than just the Klingons in a single
growly line. This is the kind of thing that makes
history, Jake.
  I'd rather you remember me here, the way we lived
together. Just in case history gets a little too
personal."
  "Dad. . ."
  Detemned to keep this on a higher plane,
Sisko reached for his son's hand and clasped it
rimily, but not tightly. "Take care of my
family and my station. I'll be back if I'm
lucky, but dying doesn't mean you lost.
  Understand? Don't follow me."
  "You're up early today."
  As Quark plunked a drink in front of him,
Worf pretended it was an ordinary morning. The
only other customer in the pub besides himself was Mom,
over 15 there in his giant slug mode, sitting
alone as always, his big shapeless paw around a mug of
klapri drippings.
  Here at the bar, Worf stewed over his drink, but
said only,
  "I am always up early."
  In his periphery he saw Quark lean closer,
pretending he could keep a seer-et. "It's a good
day to die;" the Ferengi barkeep whispered.
  Worf felt andq burn in his eyes. "Every day
is a good andity to cue."
  "But some days are better," Quark baited,
"than others. Like today, for instance. The day the Federation
Klingon-Romulan Alliance launches its invasion
of Cardassia. The final push in the long struggle
to rid the Alpha Quadrant of the Dominion ...
and save my bar in the process."
  Though he fought to mask his anger, Worf knew his
withholding was in itself a giveaway.
  But how could the Ferengi know?
  "Who told you that?" he demanded.
  Quark nodded toward the mulchy figure of Mom.
  "He did."
  "Mom? And how does he know?"
  "He's friends with Admiral Ross. Or maybe
Sisko told him while they were having dinner I
don't know how he knows! He just laws."
  Worf slugged his drink. "I have to go."
  Without another glance at the clever and annoying
Quark, Worf wheeled full about and beat it for the
door.
  The gulp of blood wine had galvanized him for
what was to come, on this very important day they were all
trying
  I 6
  so hard to make appear ordinary. Yet his stomach
rebelled as he headed for the airlock.
  He was grateful for solitude, but in this
proximity-a space station that seemed large upon
approach and quickly showed itself for the small town it
was-soon caved to Odo's appearance.
  The shape shifter floated inffbeing at Worf's
side before the Klingon had even noticed someone was
walking with him.
  "Mind if I walk with you, commander?" Odo
asked, as if reading his thoughts.
  "Not at all," Worf accepted. "Captain
Sisko informed me you were joining us on our mission."
He paused, then offered a morsel of empathy.
"I hope that when we reach Cardassia we find
Colonel Kira alive and well."
  "So do I, Commander," the shape shifter said with
urunasked fear. "So do I. Everyone's taking the
blackout with great courage:" he added. "I find
it disconcerting-the waves are full of normal
chatter, but it's all a lie."
  "It is a tactical disguise. We have filled
our communications channels with recordings. The enemy
would notice a total blackout. Our
assault would sacrifice its surprise,
Constable."
  "Yes, but it's surreal to monitor the channels
and hear people talking whom I perfectly well know
aren't even on the station, and others whom I know are
boarding ships to join the Allied Fleet. As the
security officer, I still have to listen. It's like ...
hearing ghosts."
  Worf winced, then hoped the constable was not watching
at that instant.
  Ghosts haunted his every moment, the dead of his past
constantly with him. His father, his shipmates, his fellow
warriors, his wife ghosts all.
  Today they would create many more.
  The two men fell to silence. It was a relief.
Worf found himself instinctively leading the way, with
Odo a step behind him, as they came through the airlock
and boarded the muscular deep-space endurance
battleship that had been the other half of their
existence for so long.
  The Defiant. Latest descendant of a line of
proud fighting ships of the same name, leading back
into the past of Starfleet, and even farther back to the
planetary service from which Starfleet had grown.
  Not so graceful as a heavy cruiser nor
so crude as a fighter, this new Defiant, like those
before her, was something in the middl'uilt exclusively
for the hard punches of close combat, without labs or
comforts. The essence of minimalism and survival,
she had more weaponry ordnance than any other
provision, even more than food and engine power. She
mew her purpose. Today she would fly her finest.
  Ben Sisko stood on the upper level,
surveying his bridge thoughtfiffly, absorbing the
newness of this ship, the updates and fresh
technology that his tough old ship hadn't
possessed. It was (i" to put some scratches in
her hull. Finally, the allied powers would make a
singular sa%!
  Months of preparation, secret coordinations,
meetings, councils of war, spies, trickery,
subterfuge-finally! An assault fleet was moving
laterally across Deep Space Nine, gathering
strength as it flowed, plucking grains of sand which it would
soon fling at the enemy.
  Even now, before they'd left the docking pylon,
Defiant's forward screen bristled with a thousand
ships passing by in loose coordination-Federation
starships, Klingon cruisers, Romulan war wings,
combat support tenders and picket ships,
supply freighters and medical
packets,-vessels from all over the plagued
quadrant swarmed together before him. A grdin of sand
is nothing, but together they make a mighty stone. But
beneath his pride in this moment, Sisko feared where the
crack might appear.
  Oh, well, that was the adventure, wasn't it?
  Silently he counted the crew. Worf,
O'Brien, Bashir, Ezri Dax, all at their
posts. Nog at the helm, Odo standing beside the command
chair.
  They were pretending to be powering up the ship, but it was
already powered up.
  They were waiting for him, re ally.
  "All right, people"" he began. All eyes
turned to him.
  "What do you say we end this warm" O'Brien
couldn't quite muster a smile. "Sounds good to me."
  "To me too. I have something very important for you
to keep in mind for the time to come. We've been out here
at Deep Sp'e Nine for many years, usually on
our own, depending only on each other and no one
else.
  We've become a family, and I appreciate
that very much.
  Today something different is happening. We aren't on
our own anymore.
  We aren't the spearhead of the final frontier.
Today we have to do something even more important-we have
to remember what it means to be part of a fleet one of
many. The goal isn't to be heroes today. The goal
is to be one strong muscle in a much bigger body.
We have to work together with a lot of strangers to take
back our quadrant. That's not easy for people who've
had to be pioneers as long as we have.
  We're used to defending our own form all by ourselves.
  nun a
  good effort. I'm counting on all of you to have the
humility and courage to let others be the heroes for a
change. We all think we have that in us, but when the
moment comes, it's hard to do. I know you're all
grownup enough to understand what I'm saying. Today, I
want to be proud of you for something that might not make
headlines. I promise you, though ... it'll
matter."
  For a moment his words had no effect. Then he sum
to notice a sub de change. Worf's posture
eased a little.
  Odo gazed at him more kindly. Bashir was
smiling.
  O'Brien closed his eyes briefly. Nog
seemed less afraid.
  Ezri's eyes shined with embarrassing affection, as
if he'd given them a charm they could put in their
pockets. Yes, they understood.
  He drew a sustaining breath and stepped down to the
command deck. Odo offered a nod of encouragement.
  Sisko almost paused, but managed not to. He
couldn't absorb-never had-the idea that by looking at
Odo's homogeneous face he was ac any looking
at the very face of the Dominion, the eyes of his
enemy.
  Without breaking stride he slid into his chair and
swiveled to face the forward screen.
  "Docking clamps released," Nog reported,
without waiting for an order.
  "Ensign," Sisko began,
  "I believe you know the way to Cardassia."
  The young Ferengi gingerly touched his helm. "If
I get lost, I'll just follow the ship in front
of me."
  With a hum of confidence, the Defiant smoothly
swam out toward the crowded space lane. There she
fell into formation with the largest combined invasion fleet ever
amassed in the Alpha Quadrant.
  And out there, far before them, the enemy would soon
awaken.
  "She's got a concussion. Look at that head
wound."
  "Can't you bind it up and save her?"
  "She could be bleeding in the brain, Damar.
We've got to get out.
  Ten minutes in the infirmary and she'll be fine."
  "I'm glad you have the problem solved.
Colonel!
  Don't go to sleep. You may not wake up. Do
you understand?"
  Colonel Kira Nerys of the Bajoran
military Guard moaned and forced her eyes open.
Her head swam and pounded from inside her skull. The
side of her neck was wet.
  "Am I bleeding?" she asked. "Because ... it's
getting on my clothes.
  Garak, make me some new clothes."
  Iw, can you see me?"
  She blinked again, and saw-surprisingly clearly
22 the goofy face of Garak bending over her. Those
wide buggy eyes, that funny flat mouth, and all
that Cardassian gray snakeskin, like bathroom
tiles. Yup, that was Garak.
  "I see you fine," she complained. "Where are
we?"
  "We are trapped." The other Cardassian-why
was she lying around with so many Cardassians?-was
dirty and covered with soot as he climbed a
taflus of broken bricks and shattered wood and
metal support bars.
  "The whole building has come down on us. We
rrscalculated the explosion."
  "I didn't miscalculate anything," Garak
protested as he put a pad of wet cloth to the
side of Kira's head. "My fuses were perfect.
It was your calculation of the escape route that faded
us. We should've gone out from the north entrance, as I
first suggested."
  "If you don't come over here and help me lift
these blocks, the south nice win be your tomb."
  "You better go help him"" Kira told
Garak. "I'll be right over there in a minute, as
soon as I sew my feet back on."
  "That's right, Kira:" Garak told her
soothingly. "You rest right here on this plank. Keep
sewing your feet and don't go to sleep. I'll
help our Mustfious leader dig us out of the hole
he's gotten us into."
  Kira let her shoulders sink back against the
slab of wood they had laid her on. This was a
nasty place, some kind of basement room. They'd
fallen right dmugh the ceiling when the bomb went off.
It was a good bomb, big enough to take out half a city
block. Another ten minutes and BOOM.... Or
had it already gone off.?
  "Oh, sure," she said. "I remember the sound.
Three buildings fell at the same time, and four more
in a row afterward. We're in the fourth one, isn't that
right?"
  Across the room, Garak and Damar hefted the two
foot-long blocks of conglomerate and metal bars
one at a time-it took both of them to lift a single
block, and there were hundreds of blocks collapsed
in the corridor ... that was a corridor, wasn't
it? Oh, yes, there was the lintel. Neither of them
responded to her question. Oh, they were busy.
  "That's all right," she said. "You're busy. Just
keep working. I'll sit here and paint a phaser."
  That was all they needed to get out at the phaser.
No hand weapons, though. The Breen patrols would
pick them up on scanners. Seemed so silly.
Why couldn't she just go out and talk to the Breen and
tell them that she and her team of conspirators
and saboteurs had work to do and couldn't be bothered going
to the brig and facing a firing squad.
  They'd understand.
  "She's going to die like this:" Garak said, straining
as he pitched one of the blocks sideways. It
splashed to the floor with a dull clunk.
  "She deserves better."
  "Everyone deserves better. Quit complaining.
An invasion tomorrow, and we end up in a stone box
underground."
  "I thought you said quit complaining."
  "You quit. I'll say what I please."
  Damar was on top of the pile of bricks, up by the
lintel, trying to stick his arm through to open air.
Kira watched him for a few moments, fascinated by the
action of his belt as it rode on his hips, and the way
his boots scratched at the uneven mess he was standing
on.
  What a funny thing. Here they were, Garak of the
Obsidian Order and Damar of the Cardassian
Military, two important natives of this
condemnable planet who had both turned against their
planet and its allies-and they were dying like
squirrels underground while the big invasion prepared
itself light-years away, unable to get through ten
feet of rocks.
  Hah.
  Kira laughed out loud, then winced when her head
started hurting again.
  She should get up and go help them move the rocks
so they could all get out of here and go invade something.
She felt like L'g over a province or subduing
a fleet.
  Of course, standing up would help.
  Nope, couldn't do that. No feet.
  Garak was coming toward her now. Wow, were his hands
huge! They were two feet long! He could smother her
with those!
  "Your hands are big"" she commented as he probed
her head.
  "Just he still:" Garak told her. "You've got
a cracked skull. If you move, you'll cause more
bleeding. I have nothing with which to cauterize the wound.
We should start bringing medikits with us on these
raids."
  "You always were pampered:" Damar said, without
turning for a caustic glance. "You enjoy comfort too
much, Garak. It makes you weak. The Obsidian
Order was perfect for you. Sneaking and hiding, never
confronting your enemy except to lurk behind him
and find some way to bring him down before he even knew
you were there. Even here, in the midst of a resistance
squadron, you want your tea and biscuits every
day."
  "The Obsidian order, my primate friend, was the
elite of the Cardassian intelligence network,
feared and respected across the entire Alpha
Quadrant, unlike, I should mention, the rest of
Cardassia's authorities."
  Garak's musical tone betrayed an irritation
that Kira recognized. Was he frightened? She
couldn't tell that much, but something was bothering him.
  "Yes Damar droned, "and if you don't elite
yourself over ere and lift some stones, you're going to be
respected very deeply. Ten meters deeply, I
estimate."
  With a bitter glare, Garak said,
  "I'm tending to the Colonel's injuries. I have
to lift this board. Prop her up."
  "Why are you bothering to do that? We have to dig ourselves
out of here."
  "Damar, that would be futile. Look at the size
of those blocks. If we are still and patient, I'm
sure that soon other members of the resistance will be
along to dig us out. They've got scanners.
They'll be able to find our life-signs and get us out
of here."
  "It wouldn't be wise to wait, Garak."
  "Why not?"
  "Primarily because the room is filling with water.
  Obviously the blast broke an alluvial line
under the buildings."
  Garak turned and gawked down at the floor.
  Water? Oh, yes. Kira let her hand slip
from her side, and it fell into icy liquid swirling
just below the ring she was lying on. That felt good. She
liked cold water.
  Bracing!
  "Maybe we can swim out," she said. "We can
build a raft and float out.
  I can knit some oars. Give me a couple of
minutes. You want yours pink or brown?"
  "If we don't escape, Garak," Damar said
sharply, "then you would be better doing the merciful
thing."
  Turning away from Kira, Garak glared
fiercely. Are you serious?
  What are you suggesting?"
  "I'm suggesting you stop tending her and let her
slip into a coma, rather than tend her until
she's conscious just so she can be aware that we're about
to drown or have the rest of this building fall in upon
us."
  "She can hear you, fool!"
  "She's unconscious, Garak. Look at her.
Her eyes are glazed over."
  "At least they're open. I'll take care of
her. She isn't your concern."
  "Get back here and help me! If we're going
to get out, you've got to lift some of these blocks:"
"Very well, but if you mention-what you just said again,
I'll" "Yes, I'm sure you'll throttle me
with a cram per. Get over here' was Kira listened with
amusement at their argument. They thought she was dead, and
re ally she was just lying here painting and knitting and
sewing her feet on.
  "Oh, look:" she said. "A rat."
  They didn't pay any attention. Over there,
climbing out of a metal pipe, was a little northern
provincial re drat. The re drat bobbed its
pointy head up and down, surveying the rising water
that was draining into their cavity. As it paused at the
mouth of its little pipe, more water began to flow out of the
pipe, preventing the rat from going back up the way
it had come.
  Desperate and confused, it clawed around the mouth
of the pipe, trying to climb the metal, but there was no
way to do it. Frantic, the rat scratched
furiously, then fell two feet to a jagged ledge
of broken rock. From there, it scurried down a
single metal rod, then jumped onto the end of the
wooden slab upon which Kira lay, near her knee.
  "It's going to bite me:" she mentioned.
  Garak ignored her. He was back over there,
accepting chunks of conglomerate from Damar and pitching
them aside.
  "Have you noticed that wherever you go in the whole
galaxy, no matter what kind of planet you're
on was she muttered, "there are some kind of rodents?
You're everywhere. I mean, some of you have different
colors or extra feet, or hair that looks more
like feathers, but you're all rodents. There's got
to be something evolutionarily inevitable about rodents.
There's not that much difference. Look at you, for instance.
  You're bright red, and you've got the prettiest
blue eyes. Blue?
  Look at me! ... I'm right, they're blue.
And you don't have a tad.
  All the other rats I've seen have tails. There
must be some predator on Cardassia that
catches prey by the tail, so you evolved away your
tail and that way it's harder to catch you. That makes
sense, doesn't it?"
  The rat raised its snout and sniffed around, standing
up on its little feet and grasping with its tiny pink
hands at Kira's kneecap while it had a look
around. As the water rose beside her, Kira watched the
re drat waddle up along her thigh to her resting
hand. It sniffed her hand.
  "Don't bite me," she told it. "I don't
want to knock you into the water. Truce, all right?"
  The rat didn't bite her. Instead it climbed
onto her hand and moved hesitantly up her arm
to sit just south of her elbow. It looked around again,
sniffing furiously, hearing the rush of incoming water.
The water was up around Kira's ankles now, making
its way toward her knees.
  "Here:" she said. "Stay where you are."
  Summoning all her strength, concentrating hard,
she flexed the fingers of her right hand. Her thumb had
no feeling, but her wrist moved.
  Closing one eye with determination, she raised her
entire right arm as if it were already floating. The rat
rose too, as Kira lifted her arm.
  Up, up, finally to a shelf of broken
wood that looked as if it might have been a piece of
furniture an hour ago.
  "comthere you go:" she huffed, weakened by the effort.
  "Go on, get off."
  The rat made a single little jump, and landed on the
jut of wood.
  Kira's arm slumped back to her side, falling
partly over her body.
  "Better now?"
  "Thank you," the rat said. "What are you doing
here?"
  "We planted a bomb to harass a clutch of
Breen patrols. We blew up their barracks.
We got caught in our own explosion through.
  Miscalculated."
  The fuse or the escape route?" it asked.
  "Oh, well, that's what those two were arguing about"
Kira explained. "They're blaming each other for
getting caught down here."
  "Do they argue much?"
  "All the time. Just like they're doing now. Listen."
  Kira gestured with her limp hand at Garak and
Damar, who were now calf-deep in water even though
they were standing on the slanted side of the collapsed
pile of building conglomerate.
  "All the potential glory of an empire, and
this is what it comes to,"
  Garak was complaining. "Subservient to the prancing
Founders and the insipid Vorta, and now we're even
lower than the Breen" was "Look who's talking""
Damar snarled back. time Obsidian Order got
thrown out because you spent so much time sneaking about,
preparing for a conquest while never launching one, stabbing
everyone in the back, ring to gain advantage,
avoiding what you were preparing for. Eventually you ended
up even stabbing each other in the back. While
Cardassia was involved in stealth and suspicion,
sneaking around, and"...ong to be clever, trying to gain
influence and loyalty, and gaining strength, the
Klingons and Romulans and Federation were gaining
territory. When you were finally ready, we were already
surrounded.
  So much for the wonders of stealth."
  "We survived," Garak argued, heaving another
stone from the pile. "We prospered, our children were
healthy-we were gaming power Have you ever played that
human game chess? Sometimes you can look at the
board and still not re ally see who's winning. But you
wouldn't understand that, Damar. You just count pieces."
  "How have we done under your way? Strutting
and blustering even when you can take an enemy by stealth,
you announce to him you're going to do it, and then you have
to either completely expend yourself winning, or you lose.
If it weren't for the Klingons, you'd be the biggest
fools in the galaxy!"
  Damar smashed a stone hard into the water with a
terfic splash that lanced them all with sharp cold
droplets.
  "At least the galaxy knew we existed! We
didn't plan and plan and think and hide. We had
a chance to win!
  We came closer than ever before! Yes, when you do
something you have the chance to lose, but we won!
  Cardassia was in its heyday under us!"
  "But you didn't win! You got kicked out of
Bajor," Garak told him.
  "If the Dominion hadn't come in and saved you, you
would've been pushed back here to the home planet and
locked in your rooms. And even the Dominion is
only using Cardassia at "IL'OOK out!"
  A deafening rumble tore through their basement room.
Garak pulled Damar down from the sheet of talI
us. Together they splashed into the rising water. Less
than a second later, the whole wall of tall us
erupted, pushed outward as if swelling, then
crumbled and collapsed into a somewhat flatter heap of
wreckage. Where the wall of blocks had been was
now an obstacle of solid iron in a tangle of
pipes.
  "What is that!" Garak sputtered, coming up in an
oily shek on the water.
  "It's a furnace boiler," Damar bitterly
said. "We must've loosened the floor under it."
  3 I
  He swam to the enormous mass of iron and
pressed against it with both hand. It budged not a
centimeter.
  "That's the end of it. We can't possibly move
this.
  We're finished unless they find us in the next
few minutes."
  "Yes, well, if I were in a better mood
I'd wring your neck before the water drowns you was
Garak paddled over to Kira's plank, but there was
nothing he could do for her. The water now lapped at
her pelvis and she could feel the chill up her
spine.
  They don't like each other," the rat observed, "do
theyour
  "Oh, there's a certain commonality,"
Kira explained.
  "They're not all that different. Garak was on the
political outside and Damar was on the
political inside. If you ask me, under neither of
them has Cardassia done particularly well."
She paused, and looked up at Garak as he
plucked at the padding he'd placed on the side of
her head. "It's funny ... what he said. If
Martok and Worf were here, those words would be stuffed right
back down Garak's throat."
  "About the Klingons?"
  As Garak and Damar split to opposite sides
of the wreckage, seeking an alternative way out of
their underground coffin, Yira raised herself to a sitting
position with tremendous effort. This way she could read
a long stick that looked like it might've been a
chair leg. Now, if she lay back again, she could
use her right hand-her left wouldn't move at
all-to raise the chair leg onto the crashed
funture where the rat was struggling along, flanked
by lapping water.
  "There. Climb a little higher," she offered.
  The rat thanked her again, turned its back, and
scurried up the chair leg to the top of a cabinet.
Its ruby red back glinted in the single
electrical light that still worked.
  A light? Until now, she hadn't paid any
attention to the fact that she could still see down here. She
hoped the light stayed on. Suddenly the idea of
darkness frightened her. She shivered.
  "It's getting cold," she mentioned. "Don't
come down here again or you'll get wet."
  "It's nice of you to worry about me. That
Cardassian seems to be worried about you."
  "Well was Kira murmured,
  "I have to admit we've become friends over the
years. Didn't start out that way."
  "Is something wrong, Kira?" Garak slipped
back into the water from where he'd been inspecting the
upper wall. "Did you say something?"
  "She's been muttering all along," Damar said
from the other side.
  "She's delirious."
  "I'm not delirious:" Kira told him.
"I'm talking to the rat, not to you. You see was she
went on,
  "I wanted nothing more than to kill them both for a
while there. Look at us now. Working together to try
to get out of here before the rest of the block comes down on
us:" "Which one of them do you like better?"
  Kira laughed. Only a rat would think like that.
  "Well"" she began, "from my point of view,
they're both wrong. Look at Garak. He's
spent years on Deep Space Nine and he's
gotten to like the people there, but he still doesn't realize that
if he gains, someone else doesn't necessarily
lose. When something good is created, everyone gains!
That's why the Federation, without blustering, without threats,
without conquering, just keeps moving along and getting
bigger and better-and people want to join it."
  "Is that who you are? Federation?"
  "I'm Bajoran. I'm just trapped here.
Temporarily. And don't forget it's just
temporary. I'm sure not staying on this
Cardassian rock any longer than I
absolutely have to. Sooner or later
somebody'll break through and get us all off. Until
then, we're working to break the Dominion's hold on
Cardassia. The Federation'll be here eventually.
  That's how it works."
  "Not by conquest?"
  "Not unless it's re ally provoked. It moves
inexorably along and along, not forcing anybody to come
in, and it just works better. If you push and take and
just be a bully, eventually somebody's going
to stand up to you, you're going to run into somebody
bigger-or three people who are collectively bigger.
The Klingons, Cardassians, Romulans,
Breen-even the Dominion-they spend all their time
trying to figure out the best way to bully. That's the
only difference between Garak's way and Damar's.
Should they bully by walking right up to someone and trying
to hit him, or by sneaking up and punching him in the
back?
  Eventually, neither way gets the best results.
The Klingons figured that out, y'know, now that I think
about it. They still strut around, and they like their facade of
bullying, but they know that all those years of galactic
snarling just brought them to poverty. Now they go along
with the Federation. It's about time. I wonder what's
taking the cook so long?"
  She lay back again, exhausted. The air was
stuffy and dusty, in spite of the water gushing in.
Crumbs of broken rock, insulation, brick, and
wood layered her clod-ring and made her mouth dry.
  She wanted to drink some of the water crawling up
her legs, but her hands wouldn't form into a cup.
  The rat climbed higher on the crushed
furniture, ran to the edge to look over at the
rising water, then sniffed around the perimeter.
"I smell fresh air."
  Kira raised her aching head again. "What?"
  'there's air coming through this hole was the rat said. "I
don't dWill the building is completely
collapsed."
  "If it's not, maybe there's another way out!"
Kira pushed herself up on an elbow.
  "Kira, don't move!" Garak called. "If
you fall off that board, you'll drown."
  "The rat found some fresh air. Garak, come over
here!
  Damar!"
  "What does she want, Garak?" Damar
appeared around a slanted piece of ceiling
material, swimming up to the shoulders.
  "Something about fresh air," the other Cardassian
told him, and also paddled closer.
  "I don't blame her. It smells like dead
gut fish in this sewer."
  "I wish it were a sewer," Garak commented. "Then
perhaps there would be a way out."
  "There is!" Kira insisted. "Look! The
rat's climbing through an opening up in that corner.
Look. Well, look!"
  "She's pointing up there."
  Garak moved to Kira's side and squinted into the
corner where the rat had disappeared through a ragged hole
near the ceiling.
  "Damar, I see some light!" he exclaimed.
  "Stay with her. I'll go."
  As Kira sank back against Garak and he
pulled her higher on the plank, they watched Damar
pick his way up the strewn wreckage to the corner
and peer into the nearly hidden hole. Drawing a breath
through his nostils, he proclaimed,
  "That is open air!"
  "Can you see anything?" Garak called.
  "I see light ... I can see part of the street!
There must be a room that hasn't collapsed, and an
outside wall that fell away! Hurry!
  Bring those steel bars and help me tear away this
wall material!"
  "There's a hammer over there!"
  Vigorously now, Garak splashed around Kira
to the place he had seen a hammer, which would until
now have been useless to them. He also gathered several
reinforcement rods, then carefully made his way up
the pile of furniture and crushed building
wreckage to where Damar was already pulling at the
wallboard.
  "Stay awake, Colonel," he called back
to Kira. "Welt have you out of here in a matter of
minutes!"
  Damar put his powerful shoulders into using a steel
rod as a crowbar, causing part of the wall to rip him
paper. The wall protested, making a terrible
squawk, and for a moment Kira thought her friend the rat
might have been stabbed.
  "Don't hurt him!" she called. "After all,
he's the one who found the fresh air."
  "Relax, Kira:" Garak insisted. "We'll
have you in the infirmary in no time. Our unit medic will
cure you in a flash. By tonight you'll be back to your
old vigorous self, with a phaser in your hand and a
gleam in your eye."
  "And you will be back in your nwmy's amis,"
Damar conmiented, "sipping tea and having your feet
massaged:" Garak's eyes gleamed. "Is that an
offer I can count on? I never knew you could be so
acconlmodating!"
  "At least we'll be free in time for the region
resistance meeting tonight, Damar said, typically a'y
"by 9 of what had to happen next.
  "We've got to convince them of our plan. If
I have anything to do with it, we will wrest our
planet from the fools who would collaborate with the
Dominion."
  "If I recall correctly, not too long
ago that was you doing the collaborating. Now look at
you-you're a Cardassian legend. The great Damar,
who the Jem'Hadar thought they had killed, but who
rose again out of the ashes of shune to destroy so many of the
enemy and fire an entire rebellion on his home
planet! You're a born rebel, Damar. You just
don't know which side to be on at any given
moment."
  "Look who's talking: "Damar grumbled back.
  Kira sanded. They didn't really hate each
other Necessity had made them compatriots. Now
they both knew what they wanted-he Dominion's
paws off their home planet.
  Could be worse. She'd fought for the same thing.
  Except that her fight had been against the
Cardassians.
  Now she was fighting with them.
  What a silly universe. Painted feet,
talking rats, and Bajorans fighting alongside
Cardassians. What unexpected leap would happen
next?
  Who said wars had to be bad? Look how
much good this one had brought.
  She'd make friends of enemies.
  She was part of a whole planet's finding out what it
meant to have to fight for its identity.
  "After all," she said, "that's all I wanted
to teach the Cardassians all along. Maybe this time
they'll learn."
  "Hold on, Colonel," Garak called as he
and Damar tore the wall apart.
  More and more outside air piled in through the hole they
were making.
  Of course, the water was up to her neck now. Whose
bright idea was it to take a bath at a time like this?
  "There aren't even any bubbles. Garak, why
didn't you bring me bubbles?"
  "Coming, I'm coming. Clear this away, Damar. You
know your way around garbage, don't you?"
  "After long association with you, yes."
  Garak climbed back down in time to clasp
Kira under the arms and haul her up out of the water.
"You've lost weight was he commented. "I'll have
to make you a whole new warandobe."
  "That's all right, Garak, perfectly all
right:" she said, grinning as he hoisted her out of the
cold wet basement.
  "I made six new suits while I was waiting
for you. And some boots for my rat.
  If a planet could be beauffffl, Cardassia
Prime surely must be a jewel in the random
night. Like a giant crystal ball, the planet
seemed constantly to glitter in its subdued sun.
Though he had been programmed with all necessary
historical texts and the poetry that described them,
Weyoun found hum elf still baffled by the romance with which
many of the curious creatures in this quadrant seemed
to speak of their homes. Yet he had come over the many
weeks to see some of the attraction of Cardassia
against the night.
  The Dominion Briefing Room, set well below
the equator of the planet he was here to defend, had
many pi cum of the pkinet from surveillance
satellites and outposts on the moons. Weyoun
broke from his communion with these monitors and went
back to the one that counted With enjoyable hath he glared
at the incoming swarm.
  "Founder, the Federation invasion fleet has left
Deep Space Nine.
  They'll reach the Cardassian border in twelve
hours."
  Seated at a desk near him, the
glorious Founder was difficult to look at in these
advanced stages of her disease. Her skin, once
smooth as bisque soup, was now cracked and
desiccated. She had no power to mask the advancement
of the plague which was upon her and her people. The sight made
Weyoun feel ill himself, though he fought to keep from
glancing at her, to keep the disgust and horror from his
voice. He knew her intelligence had not
suffered-she would read his glance with all the cunning she
had ever possessed.
  Yet also it was a relief not to glance that way in
order to avoid looking at the Breen general. Thor
Pean was a sickening clod who was better ignored.
The Breen were servicers, nothing more. Weyoun would
tolerate them for now.
  "Good:" the Founder quietly said. She had
trouble fomng words through her scabby lips, but turned
to the Breen and added,
  "Our brave Jem'Hadar soldiers have a
motto. . .
  "Victory is life."
  was The Breen answered her in his unintelligible
static.
  His voice was nothing more than a crackle of
electrical noise to Weyoun, but the
Founder understood what was being said.
  "I'm glad you're fandliar with it," she said. "For
today, those words have meaning for us all. I have no
doubt," she went on, speaking very slowly, and with
trouble, "that the outcome of this battle will determine the
outcome of the war. Either we destroy the Federation
invasion force, or they destroy us. There are no other
options."
  Weyoun overheard without looking, knowing he was not
being spoken to, and yearned to rush to her, to extol the
wonders of the Founders, the glory of the Dominion,
to declare that nothing so petty could pull it down. As he
clamped his lips tight, he listened to the static of the
Breen general speaking in his barbaric manner.
  "Fight well today," the Founder told her
minion, "and Romulus will be yours to do with as you
please."
  How petty! Weyoun tightened his fists in
disgust. To have to bribe the fools! To have to give them a
planet just so they would defend the Dominion!
Pathetic!
  The Breen was buzzing again. He had better: be
groveling!
  "Yes, yes"" the Founder said now. "And Earth
too. I assure you, the pleasure is all
mine."
  Apparently satisfied, if such a clod could be
measured by body language, the Breen offered one more
burst of sizzle, then went to a monitor and began
clicking and snapping his troops into formation-at least that
was what Weyoun assumed was going on.
  Bribes! Giving away huge portions of their
conquests to buffoons!
  Weyoun bottled his rage. He had no right
to interrupt, yet a ceffft quiver of insult
boiled up inside him.
  tUs hands trembled. He pressed his lips
tight. He glared at the screen in inconsolable
fury.
  "Is something bothering you?"
  The Founder was looking at him again.
  With monumental control Weyoun kept the contempt
out of his voice.
  "Apparently," he said tightly,
  "I was under the mistaken impression that all
Federation territories would fall under my
jurisdiction ... including Earth."
  The Founder lowered her voice. "And so they shall."
  He looked at her. "But you just promised the
Breen. . .
  Was she smiling beneath the scales of disease?
  "I'd promise the Breen the entire Alpha
Quadrant:" she told him quietly, "if I
thought it would help win this war."
  How fluidly she conjured the future! What a
wonder she was! To think of so many things at once,
to understand so much, to know when integrity served and when it
stalled He bowed before her. "The Founder is wise in
all things;" he murmured.
  He was about to say something else, to elaborate on
his opinion about this turn, but was cut off when
Legate Broca ewne into the briefing room without
even chiming the door notice.
  "Founder," he began rudely,
  "I've heard a disturbing rumor about the
traitor Damar."
  The Founder did not look at him. "What about
him?"
  "He may be alive' was Now she turned
to Broca. "Is this possible?"
  "I don't see how," Weyoun attempted.
"We destroyed his ship, his rebel base-was "But his
body was never found."
  "They say he's here," Broca insisted, "on
Cardassia Prime. Here in the capital,
no less. . .
  Weyoun stiffened. Would she be angry? What
action would she want him to take? The detested
traitor Damar-Weyoun could dream of many fates
he would inflict upon a Cardassian who had turned
on the wondrous Dominion, which had once again
raised the Cardassians to power in the quadrant.
How could he turn on the saviors of his people?
  The Founder showed no outer emotion at this news.
  She seemed, for a moment, not to have heard Broca
at all. Then she gave him a beautiful gift,
charging him with authority that would resonate far.
  "Look into this matter," she said.
  Broca nodded.
  Weyoun narrowed his eyes. "If Damar is
alive." Broca snapped him a bitter glare.
"He won't be for long."
  "I smell smoke. Musky ... thin. A
cook fire."
  The Jem'Hadar don't cook. They don't
eat either."
  "Shh
  "It could be Cardassian, but it doesn't smell
familiar."
  "Don't obsess, Garak. You're
letting hunger get the best of you. Keep quiet.
For a spy, you make a terrible sneak. Follow
me."
  The alley was dank and slippery with lichen
embedded between the bricks in the broken floor. They
had been hurrying through these back alleys for hours,
hugging watts, avoiding the main streets, climbing
over walls, through ducts, and under piping. This was a
slow way to traverse a whole city, but the only
way to avoid patrols. Garak was clumsy, too
long separated from soldiering He had forgotten how
to be stealthy. Now they had to move into the main
streets, for their maze of back alleys had come to a
dead end.
  As they rounded a cold-molded building and moved
out of the protection of the alley, their good fortune
instantly dissolved in a disrupter strike against the
building that nearly took both their heads off.
  "Halt!"
  A Jem'Hadar voice. Familiar enough,
by now.
  And a light-a spotlight, struck the wall,
bouncing to brighten this whole side of the street.
  Two Jem'Hadar soldiers blocked their path,
if the light were not creating illusions. Yes,
two, with one holding a palm beacon.
  "Step forward. Slowly."
  "At last!" Garak tentatively moved toward
the two pale faced demons.
  "Some friendly faces! We're new to the city and
I'm aft-aid we've gotten lost' "Quiet!"
the soldier on the left ordered.
  Both soldiers stepped closer now, closing the
distance between them.
  The one who had spoken came farther forward by one
step, and spoke again, but not to Garak.
  You are Legate Damar."
  Damar clamped his mouth shut, knowing his wide
eyes had already given too much away. For what could
he say?
  Garak flopped his arms and shook his head and
laughed. "You see? I told you you looked like him!"
To the Jem'Hadar he attempted, "andness isn't the
first time my cousin has been mistaken for that
traitors' "He is Damar," the unswayed
Jem'Hadar insisted.
  "He will be taken to Dominion Headquarters.
You," it said then, looking at Garak, "will die
here."
  Fear crossed Garak's face as he
apparently realized there was no way out of this.
Damar's mind ran with possibilities, though each
one fell short. The Jem'Hadar's weapon
snapped up to Garak's frightened eyes.
  The final seconds pulsed.
  A crackle of animate noise burst through the
street.
  Breen!
  Over there-the Jem'Hadar turned his light down
the street. A Breen soldier stood at the other
end of the alley from which Damar and Garak had just come.
Had they been followed the whole time?
  It came forward now, chittering its staticity
voice. If Damar were any judge, it had just
repeated itself. Perhaps it wanted one of Garak's
amis to chew on. How could any of them possibly
know?
  "I do not understand you:" the Jem'Hadar called.
  "There must be a malfunction in your communication
device:" In answer, the Breen soldier
halted, squared both legs, raised his weapon and
quickly fired it. Damar threw himself to one side,
driving Garak out of the line of fire.
  They reeled briefly in the blast wash, but they
had not been in the line of fire at all! The
two Jem'Hadar had been struck instead, both of
them! What a wonderful sight!
  "Actually," the Breen soldier said in perfect
English,
  "I don't speak Breen."
  It pulled off its helmet. But how could it
breathe?
  Ah-there was the answer. Kira's short red hair
ruffled in the fallen light, which still shined at a funny
angle on the bricks. Her bright brown eyes were
fit with irony and superiority. She knew she'd
done well to anticipate this, and she was happy to lord
it over them.
  Actually, Damar was pleased-myen for a moment to have
been proven un prudent. In that one instant,
Kira had shown herself as the experience-hardened
guerrilla fighter whose youth had been forged in the oven
of resistance. Though it had been his own people's empire
he had once served-that had driven her and all her
Bajoran people down for so very long, Damar found himself
feeling respect for her quickness and foresight.
  He determined to learn from this, to be better next
time-and every time after that.
  With a gush of relief, Garak blurted,
  "I hope you don't consider me
ungrateful, but what are you doing here!"
  "Watching your backs:" Kira told them, with
some ding less than affection.
  She looked healthy enough, but they all knew she
was still recuperating from her head wound down in that
collapsed building. For hours they had made her
rest, but as soon as the medic announced that her
subdural injury had been healed she had insisted
upon getting up and going back to their collective
job as terrorists. Now she had saved their lives.
  "I thought we agreed:" Damar said, It'g
to her, "it would be safer if you stayed off the streets
and out of sight."
  "That's what the helmet's for," she told him.
"YOU should be wearing one too. Every Jem'Hadar and
Breen soldier on Cardassia is looking for you."
  "If I'm going to lead this revolt," Damar
protested,
  "I can't do it hiding in a cellar. I had
to attend tonight's gathering."
  "It was a great success," Garak lauded, still
breathing a little too rapidly from his near encounter with
unfrly fire.
  Kira gestured them off the street. "You can tell
me the details later." Kira put her
helmet back on, gingerly because there was still some
swelling on the side of her head. "If anyone
asks, you're my prisoners."
  Damar bristled, but Garak clasped him by both
arms and pushed him forward. "We're horrored"" the
other Cardassian said, and they were off.
  They made their way this time not through the alleys of
Cardassia's capital city, but down the main
streets, at gunpoint, courtesy of the clever
Bajoran woman who had gained their respect over
the years. Her versatility was to be lauded. Her
bravery was a given. But bravery is expected of
soldiers and Damar gave her no extra credit for
that. He both admired and was jealous of her ability
to foresee intrigue. He must learn to do that, so as
never to be humiliated again. Perhaps carrying weapons
would have been wiser, even with the chance of their being
detected by energy scanners. He must learn better
to judge risks against each other, or find ways, as
the colonel had, to use the negatives of his
situation in his favor. Pretending to be Breen had
never occurred to him, yet now it seemed so
simple.... They hurried back to their secret
cellar without further incident, other than one quick
pass beside the Cardassian patrols, who
failed to notice them in the darkness. They saw no
other Jem'Hadar, no other Breen. Not
surprising, given how many troopers had been sent
to space duty.
  The planetary divisions were sparse now, and that was
a good thing.
  Once safe-relatively-in their hideout,
Colonel Kira shed her Breen uniform and
helmet as if they were infected. Despite their
service, she hated them. Kira hid her feelings
poorly. That which represented her enemy was also her
enemy. Irrational. Damar decided to also learn from
that
  "Well?" she asked abruptly. "What
happened at the resistance meeting? We have to make a
plan, know what to do."
  They sat together around a small crude table.
Garak was fairly bursting to tell it, so Damar
motioned for him to speak.
  "comThe vote was unanimous:" Garak bubbled.
"Everyone agreed that the work disruptions would begin tomorrow
morning!"
  Damar paused as Mila, Garak's old
family friend and the only Cardassian woman here,
came down the steps with a tray of food.
  "Power, transportation, and communications
facilities all over Cardassia will be
sabotaged."
  "The Dominion fleet"" Garak barreled on,
"will be cut off from all ground support."
  "That way," Kira appreciated, "they'll have
to face the Federation alliance invasion force on their
own' was Damar nodded. "And once the Dominion is
crushed' "Cardassia will be free again." Mila
spoke firmly, interrupting the men with a confidence she
had rarely shown. Hope shined in her silvery face
as she gazed down at Garak. "Elim, I have
to admit than when you were a little boy, I was worried
about you.
  Always getting into trouble ... quiet,
secretive, so full of deceit.
  Little did I know you would turn such distasteful
characteristics into virtues. More tea?"
  "You're too kind." Garak smiled up at her.
  Damar leaned toward him. "She's right, you know."
  "About me?" Garak asked.
  "About Cardassia. We will be free again. we will
rid ourselves of the Dominion once and for all."
  Never again, he held back from saying, would they
allow themselves to be turned into stooges of
another power. No, he couldn't say that aloud! There
was too much bitterness. It hurt too much to think how
the Dominion had embraced the Cardassians, then
shunted them lower than the Jem'Hadar, then lower
than the Vorta, and now once again even lower than the
Breen. A proud nation could only stand so much, no
matter how much was promised. Some victories were
simply not worth the price paid.
  He turned to Kira before those unfortunate words
came out.
  "How ironic:" Garak added, "that the famous
Bajoran of Deep Space Nine should come
to Cardassia's aid."
  Damar nearly struck him for his foolishness in
reminding her of what she was doing, and for whom she was
doing it, the strange bedfellows created by conquest and
necessity. Here he was fighting against the official
Cardassian allies, and she, a Bajoran, was in
her way fighting for the salvation of the Cardassian nation
which had so long tormented her and her people. Oh, irony
and its many winds.
  Though a flint of insult sprang in her eyes,
Kira smiled. "tonight is going to be a long night.
A lot can go wrong."
  "Nothing will go wrong," Damar told her.
"too much is at stake."
  No one responded to that. It fell with a clunk
to the stone floor, and he was sure it echoed.
  "Have you assigned duties for the assault tea
mt" Kira asked. Her question was innly pointed-if
he hadn't, he should have, and if he didn't, she
would.
  "We have a schematic of the city," he
responded. "I'll lay it in a grid pattern and
assign one commando to each grid. Whatever target
facilities fall within a cent grid will detemne
how many resisters are assigned to each commando' was "can
lay the grid:" Garak volunteered.
  Kira added,
  "I can brief the teams."
  Damar agreed, then asked,
  "Do you have any information about when the invasion fleet
will arrive?"
  She sighed. "Well, it's hard to keep a thousand
ships a secret, but the allied force has done a
fair job of distracting and confusing the Dominion
spies. ours right along with them. We know the fleet
is coming soon, but if it were me I wouldn't pun the
squadrons together until they all rendezvoused at
Deep Space Nine. Until then, no
one would be sure how many ships were involved."
  "You saw how empty the streets are:" Damar
pointed out. "Significant portions of the
planetary forces have been depleted. That means the
Jem'Hadar and Breen are being put back in
space. That is why we must act tomorrow, while
facility guards are at a minimum."
  "Wo fronts, gentlemen," Kira said. "The
fleet in space, and us down here. Both had better
succeed, or everything will collapse faster than you can
say "labor camp.
  Damar stood up, signaling that the talk was over
and the action must begin. "Either way, by noon tomorrow our
resistance movement will either be famous or we will all
be dead. I'm looking forward to it."
  Through black open space, the massive Federation
Klingon-Romulan offensive fleet moved like a
great shoal of herring seeking a spawning ground. They
were many, but with a single purpose. When a thousand ships
come together, the logistics of not knocking into one another
becomes a moment by moment obsession for a thousand
captains, a thousand engineering chiefs, and a thousand
helmsmen. Space, normally wide enough for
galaxies to pass through each other without collision,
suddenly becomes very crowded and limited
indeed.
  They knew they couldn't hide anymore, and therefore
speed and organization became the primary factors.
Who would be the vanguard?
  Who would flank? How much strength would be committed
to a first wave and how much held in reserve?
Commodores from each allied division pow owed through the
night, causing reports and rumors to chitter
constantly despite the reduction of general
communication.
  And each ship had its private problems.
Systems were imperfect in general-on a ship, it's
never a matter of whether something will break down, but when
it will.
  Mechanics had no loyalties, no stamina in
adversity, no idea that today was of particular
importance. If the last molecule cracked,
something would break and would have to be fixed.
  Between the captain's chair and the helm on board the
new Defiant, Ben Sisko was listening to something that
only long experience allowed him to perceive.
  "You hear that, Chief.?"
  At his engineering console, O'Brien frowned.
  "Sounds like the Doppler compensators are out of
phase Sisko looked at Nog. "How's
she handling, ensign?"
  "She's not quite as smooth as the old Defiant,
sir," the young Ferengi said. "Feels a bit
sluggish."
  "Chief?"
  "I'm on it:" O'Brien said, annoyed.
"O'Brien to engineering.
  Recalibrate the inertial dampers and check the
las ma flow regulators while you're at it."
  "Right away, Chief was Sisko understood how the
senior engineer felt.
  The ship might or might not be a good ship-they
didn't know yet. She hadn't even had time for a
shakedown cruise at high warp, or a sustained
cruise at impulse to weed out her problems. There
had throughout history been beauffw ships, powerful
ships, bigger-than-ever before ships that had proven very
quickly that they weren't among the "good ships." Some had
been lucky enough to survive the discovery of their inner
weaknesses.
  Others fell apart, sank, failed, or couldn't
stand up to trouble on their first or second voyage.
Until a ship was tried by real use, there was no
way to know how well all the engineered parts would
actually work together no matter how tight, no
matter how exactly manufactured no way but work
to find the flaws. Time was the only saturation
treatment for a ship. Sail out, see how she
stresses, see what breaks and replace it, see
what bends and strengthen it ... only time and trouble
could hammer a new ship into a good ship. Defiant
hadn't yet been given that time.
  He tried not to resent the new ship, even as he
wished for the security and familiarity of the old ship.
  The old Defiant had hammered through every test.
  They'd repaired her themselves, with their own hands, not
having to take anybody else's word that fixes had
been done and done well. They knew her weaknesses
and could circumvent them. They knew her strengths and
could use them. Going into an invasion scheme with a brand
new untried ship-it demanded a trust he just couldn't
give yet.
  At the engineering console, Miles O'Brien
grumbled at the acknowledgement from engineering. His mood
could stand improvement.
  Beside him, passively watching the fleet on the
main screen, Julian Bashir just had to be sitting
right here on this side of the bridge-why couldn't he be
down in sickbay treating a hangnail or something?
  "You'd dWill someone would've come up with a
better inertial control system:" O'Brien
grumbled. "Just because a man has plans to return
to Earth and teach at a nice quiet academy
doesn't mean he's not ... oh, the devil with it
... what idiot changed the color code on this
panel?"
  Bashir finally turned and asked,
  "What's that you're saying, Miles?"
  "said, could you please wipe that grin off your face?
  You're not the first person to ever fall in love, you
know." The grin fell away. "I thought you'd be
happy for me" "I am happy for you.
  O'Brien to engineering. Try realigning the
induction coils."
  "Aligning the induction coils now."
  "You do that ... look, Julian .. ." He
forced himself to swivel halfway around. "There's something
I have to talk to you about...... Bashir gently
bridged,
  "You're getting pressure from Keiko, aren't
you?"
  "How'd you know!"
  "It's a big decision. I'm surprised it
didn't come up sooner."
  Sunken partially by relief and partially because
he'd been so easy to read, O'Brien felt his
shoulders sag.
  "Actually, we've been talking about it for quite a
while."
  "Well, you can stop talking about it was the doctor
offered. "You can put the model of the Zamo into my
quarters was "Oh. . . model. .
  At the helm, Nog turned toward port. "I
could still use a little more equalization on the torque
buffers."
  O'Brien flinched. "Oh-right. I'll try
to compensate with the impulse response filters."
  That way," Bashir accommodated, "your quarters
54 won't be so cluttered, and you can still use it
whenever you want."
  He worked a moment or two, forcing himself
to concentrate. There had to be equalization, or Nog
wouldn't be able to hold the ship laterally in this crowd.
Usually it didn't matter so much, when all of
space was there for moving around in, but in the middle of a
fleet
  "I wasn't tafidng about the Alamo model
he suddenly said. "Besides, it's too big for your
quarters."
  "You let me worry about that;" Bashir
offered. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
  Ouch-he knew there was somedling else going on.
  O'Brien surveyed his own reaction to moving
to Earth, leaving his long-time post, and recalled that when
he'd first worked with Bashir he hadn't re ally
liked him much. Strange how completely things could
change over the years. He'd never expected to find
so much in common with the young doctor, never mind
ulumtely budding models together and playing out
historical problems of battle-and re ally
lilting it.
  "It's nothing that can't wait:" he finally lied.
"Is that any better, Nog?"
  "Torque buffers are stable" Nog said from the
helm Bashir nodded in silent agreement. He
mew he was being put off, and it worried inm.
  Why wouldn't Miles tell him what was the
problem? He watched as his friend disappeared into the aft
lift and was swallowed by the ship.
  Why did happiness and problems have to balance each
other? Why couldn't ever'g just go well for once?
  He swiveled wound forward again, and as he (rid
dw tUs eyes fell upon Ezri, sitting at her
station beside Worf.
  The two of them were as different as feathers from
stone, yet it disturbed him to see them together. They were
speaking to each other now. If he watched, he might
be able to know what they were saying.
  They were keeping their voices down a trick for
Worf.
  No, he shouldn't watch. He re ally shouldn't.
  "The color coding on the weapons display panel
is different from that on our Defiant."
  Worf's chunky declaration was a poor effort
to avoid the problem between them. Ezri watched his
face, and she knew he was aware of her, very much too
aware. She remembered how his eyes changed when they
kissed. So many lives were roaming within her mind, but
the one she could focus most easily on was the one that
made the two of them most uncomfortable. The most
recent life ... his dead wife.
  Yes, Jadzia was dead. There was undeniable
finality even for a Trill, though the essence lived
on in the next host. The Dax symbiont within
Ezri was a swinger in many ways, having invaded a
girl who had never prepared for symbiosis. That was
strange for him, too. An the other hosts had been
ready, even eager. Ezri continued to struggle, her
mind cluttered and disorganized.
  Controlling the impulses of the Dax's
former lives, and all the memories, was like trying
to conduct an orchestra when she had no idea how
to hold the baton.
  "You sure you're not angry?" she urged, insisting
that the panel's color code would not be the subject.
  "About the weapons display?" Worf toyed.
  She tipped her head. "About Julian."
  Worf's face hardened visibly. "Why should I
be angry? I've been asking you to tell the doctor
how you feel about him for the past month."
  "Well, now that he knows how I feel-was "I
am happy for you."
  In a mountainous kind of way.
  She smiled. "comThat's a relief
  "But I am going to kill him."
  Ezsi tilted forward a little, trying to read his
eyes, and rewarded him with half a giggle.
  His eyes bothered her.
  "You're kidding, rightt" she asked.
  Worf made a grumble in the bottom of his
throat.
  "And Jadzia complained I had no sense of
humor."
  On the main deck, Captain Sisko listened in
frustration to the imbalances of his new ship and
also noticed the sad imbalance among his crew. He
heard the rumblings of Worf and the musical lilt of
Ezri behind him, though he consciously refused to pay
attention to what was obviously a private conversation.
He missed Jadzia almost as much as he had missed
Curzon Dax before her. Yes, it was a little
prejudicial, but Jadzia hadn't re ally been
able to take Curzon's place. She'd become a
special friend in her own right. Now, Ezri was doing
her best to take Jadzia's place, and she
couldn't. Not for Sisko, and certainly not for Worf.
No essence of memory could replace a living,
breathing person, and no other person could slip into a
haven of special affection. That was asking and
expecting too much.
  Both men were dealing with the handicap of not being Trill
themselves. Both Sisko and Worf were single
individuals, living out their lives as one and only
one. He knew in his mind that all the Dax's and
hosts were in there somewhere, and yet his heart wanted
to grieve. He could only imagine what Worf must
be feeling behind that armered personality.
  Beside him, Odo gazed up at the tactical station
where Worf and Ezri were talking. Sisko watched
him without really looking. Another cracked
soul.
  "I wish she was here, constable," he offered.
Odd-he actually meant two different women with that
"she."
  Odo averted his gaze from up there, a little self
conscious now.
  "Actually, captain, I wasn't thinking about
Kirajust then."
  He paused, and Sisko had the sense not
to pointedly ask what he meant.
  If Odo wanted to talk
  "For years now," the shape shifter began
tentatively,
  "I've been ashamed of my fellow Changelings
... knowing about the races they've enslaved ... the
atrocities they've committed ... but now, knowing that
it was Section Thirty-On'at it was a hand of
rogue Federation citizens who'd infected my people with the
Changeling disease ... an act of genocide as
cold and calculated as anything the Dominion ever
did' "You can't help but feel some sympathy for your
people:" Sisko completed.
  Odo nodded. "It makes a difficult situation
even more complicated.
  This war, Captain ... it has to end."
  "One way or another," Sisko agreed. "It
will, and soon. Wars always at do? Odo? Is
something wrong?
  You looks" Why was Odo's heart beating so
loudly? Why had a spotlight come on at the
bridge ceiling? Sisko flinched and squinted into the
light. He wanted to turn and order the light off.
Malfunction, obviously.
  O'Brien? What's going on?
  More), . . . son."
  The heartbeat grew louder. He could feel it
physically now. Was it his own? Odo had no
heart.... Before him a physical form began to take
shape. A building.
  Pillars.
  A shrine. A Bajoran shrine. Instingtively
he recognized it, though the lines were muddled
by brightness.
  And another form. A pillar changing shape, moving
toward him.
  "Mother?" he began.
  What a bizarre thing. His natural mother, not the
mother he knew in childhood, but the one who had
abandoned him to grow up human, to dunk he was
normal, ordinary, fit to face the
challenges of humanity. The Prophets were caumg
to him through tins woman of non essence, this ethereal being
who had ceded him to his place so long ago, forcing
him to live two lives now.
  "Why have you brought me herer' he demanded.
  "This is the last time I will ever speak to you like this,"
the Prophet said in her musical voice. "The
Emissary's task is nearing completion."
  What was that supposed to mean? Was he out of a
spiritual job? Day after day, he'd managed to put
aside his mystical assignment and do the duty he
prefeffedand now, right in the middle of trouble, this.
  "You mean the war is coming to an end?" he asked.
  "You have walked the path the Prophets have laid out
for you, Benjamin.
  Do notfaiter now."
  "I don't intend to."
  "Know this, my son. Yourjourney's end lies not
before you, but behind you."
  Oh, fine. Sisko felt a very tangible groan
rumble through his chest despite the dreamy circumstance.
Why must highly advanced super beings always speak in
vague riddles? Why did they have to be the wind? Just
once couldn't they say,
  "Go over to this specific place and kick
the behind off this specific person and come home and have a
brew?"
  "Captain? Captain?"
  "I hate poetry," he muttered. "I'm a
Starfleet officer.
  Why can't you just give me a direct order? And
I refuse to look backward. The future isn't
set or I wouldn't bother to get up in the morning.
Do you hear me?"
  His prophet-mother lowered her hands, and the fight went
away. The bridge filtered back to solidity before
him.
  "Captain, are you all right?"
  Odo was watching him, his plastic face tight with
concern.
  Sisko thought about explaining, describing the vision
forced upon him by his mystical connection. He thought
about voicing the frustration of living two live at the
as a Starfleet captain with a real slip and solid
crew to handle, the other as a mysterious floaty being
from the Womihole Collection, without awareness of
concrete purpose. He'd come to realize that he
didn't like talk of destiny. He had defied
prophesy before and was ready to do it again. He'd rather have
free choice and make the honest wrong one.
  "The Prophets just came to me in a vision," he
said bluntly, hoping it didn't sound as silly in
the receiving as it did in the saying.
  Odo seemed cautious. "I take it they
weren't bringing good news."
  "I'm not sure:" Sisko muttered. "I
suppose only time will tell."
  "Hello, Adam!."
  Dukat didn't wait for the Kai to turn at his
greeting before walking right in on her. In fact,
Kai Wren didn't even look up from her reading
of the Kosst Amoian. So she knew it was Dukat
intruding upon her and was determined to let him know she was
unimpressed. Ah, well.
  "You're back" was her manner of greeting.
  He wanted her to look up. He wanted her
to see him as a Bajoran, a surgically altered
Cardassian quite insisting upon looking like one of the
native people on this planet. His clothing was ragged,
caked with dust from the streets of Bajor. Somehow he
was proud of that, proud that he had survived being the
lowest of the low, the condemned, the downcast, and had yet
somehow kept his identity dmugh the great wringer of
adversity.
  All his years as a Cardassian
officer, eventually as high commander, leader of
planets, and leader of fleets; through all the dozen
changes of circumstance in the struggles between the
Federation, the Alpha Quadrant Empires, the
Dominion, and the Cardassians, through the many shifts
of power-somehow this latest incarnation satisfied him
most of all, for it proved he could go low and still
return.
  Would she speak to him? Was she still sufficiently
insulted by the Prophets" choice of Sisko as
their Emissary instead of her, or had she repented in
the time Dukat had been banished to the streets?
  He wanted to know, but he stayed back, on the
opposite side of the room, near the door. He
would never again go near that forbidden book.
  His eyes still stung with its vengeful magic.
  "Is that all you have to say to me?" he asked
eventually.
  Kai Winn dawdled over her book, then finally
looked up. "I see the Pah-wraiths have restored
your sight."
  A warning triggered in Dukat's head. Blindness
had given him insights he never expected. He
needed the Kai's good graces. Resentment must be
controlled. If she still resented the
Prophets, if she would still help him free the
anti-Prophet Pah-wraiths, then Sisko and the
Prophets could be overthrown with a power that matched their
own.
  He hid his anger behind a smile. "The
Pah-wraiths have forgiven my trespasses. They have
accepted that my attempt to read the Kosst Amojan
was a desperate mistake. I hope you can find it
in your heart to do the same."
  The Kai leaned back in her chair and eyed him
coldly.
  "Forgive you? I don't forgive Cardassian
war criminals."
  Dukat remained silent. Might as well take
whatever she had to say.
  Hereafter they would both know the wound had been purged,
that she had said what needed to be said.
  "All you've ever done," she continued after a
moment, 62 "is he to me. Pretending to be a
poor farmer from Bajor when in actuality you're a
Cardassian war criminal. To." I took
Gul Dukat to my bed, one of the most hated men in
Bajoran history' "I wasn't lying when I
offered you my heart:" he claimed bluntly.
  "Of course not!" her scorn painted the
room. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I have
completed my study of the text of the Kosst Amojan.
  Its secrets are now my secrets That didn't
sound very hopeful, did it?
  It meant she had more power than he could have, and
influence with the Pah-wraiths, which he had failed
to acquire. She was the Kai, the religious leader
of Bajor, and the Pahwraiths had let her read their
book without blinding her, while the Prophets had
never even let her have a single vision and had chosen
an offworlder as their representative.
  He would have to find a way to make her work with him,
and definitely not against him. She had banished lum,
blinded, to the streets, and now he had returned.
  Checking his own bitterness might be the best path.
  "You've learned how to release the Pah-wraith
sThat" he asked, unable to hide his real thoughts or
his admiration for her obvious spiritual stamm, which had
been ignored by the Prophets.
  "I have" she claimed proudly.
  "Men why haven't you gone to the Fire Caves and
freed them?"
  Offering only a beguiling smile, Kai Winn
leered at him. "I was waiting for you."
  Relief poured through Dukat. "Then you have
forgiven me!"
  "I need your help, Dukat." She rose from
her chair, crossed the rug that separated them, and
finally stood before him. "It's as simple as that."
  He turned his hands up. "All you have to do is
ask."
  He reached for her hand-amazingly, she gave it.
So she was still angry with the Prophets, or perhaps beyond
anger and well into bitterness.
  "Together," he said, "we will free the
Pah-wraiths so that they can tear down the Celestial
Temple and destroy the Prophets."
  "And their Emissary as well."
  Dukat tucked his chin. "No. Benjamin
Sisko will be dealt with by me, and me alone."
  "Assuming he survives the invasion of
Cardassia:" the Kai observed cryptically.
  "He'll survive was Dukat grumbled. "But
I promise you, he'll wish he hadn't."
  Bad hand. Figured.
  "Do you have any threes?"
  Quark surveyed his cards again, but they hadn't
changed. He kept them close to his face, as if
the computer in the holosuite didn't perfectly
well know what cards he was holding.
  "Go fish." The computer-generated lounge lizard
of the hololounge eyed him from his seat across the table.
  Annoyed, Quark sighed and dumped his cards on
the table. This just wasn't working.
  "Don't tell me you're quitting" Vic
Fontaine challenged.
  "It's just not my game," Quark complained.
  "Want to try pinochle again?"
  Quark shook his head. If the computer couldn't
cough up somedting more interesting than these games, how
could he possibly offer something new to his customers
in his real bar, down the real stairs, with the real
money?
  "How about rummy?" Vic offered. "Or gin
rummy?
  Five-card stud? Canasta?"
  Quark kept shaking his head. There just wasn't enough
zap in any of those to distract the denizens of Deep
Space Nine from what was going on way off in
space. Not enough to get them to come in and start spending,
anyway.
  "How about some Tongo?" he countered snidely.
  Vic eyed him. "Did they play Tongo in
Las Vegas in 1962?"
  A smart-ass computer. Great. "How could
they?" he bothered to answer. "It's a Ferengi
game."
  He thought about shutting down the program, but for some
odd reason he liked Vic's company. Wasn't
that pathetic?
  "Right," Vic said. "Which is why my
holographic program can't create it."
  "I know, I know, this place is
period-specific . . . but for a hologram, you're
not very accommodating.
  Ich-he'd been trying to be friendly with
nonFerengis for way too long.
  He was starting to be like them. He'd be humiliated
to admit it to a fellow Ferengi, that the people around
here-even the holopeoplewere more like friends than
customers. A moment of sadness and worry pushed in
on his fantasy. He did want them all to come
back safely-even if it didn't make him a
bit richer.
  What if they lost? What if the Federation fleet
were defeated and the Cardassians reclaimed Deep
Space nine? He didn't like that idea at all,
and-shamefully it had nothing to do with the change of
business. The Cardassians had been a lot
easier to snooker than the humans and
Bajorans, but he still didn't want them back.
  "Is that why you came by?" Vic asked.
"To insult me?"
  "I stopped by because I had nothing else to do,"
Quark admitted. "My bar hasn't had half a
dozen customers all day. Seems like everyone's off
fighting this stupid war."
  "It's not easy to stay behind, is it?" Vic
asked. "Knowing your friends are out there risking their
lives?"
  How could a computer-generation possibly see through
him like that!
  Had the hardware grown intuition?
  He shrugged. "They think they have it tough. They should
try living my life for a day. The hospitality
industry isn't for the faint-hearted."
  Vic nodded. "A bartender's life is a
lonely one."
  "That's right. But few people understand that. They think it's
one big happy party. They forget that the person
giving the party never has any fun. He's busy
making sure everyone else is having fun. All
I do, all day long, is give, give, give-was
"Bartending is a very noble profession:" Vic
agreed.
  "And you do it well. Under some very difficult
circumstances, I might add. You should be proud."
  "You think soThat' "I know so, pal lie."
  Quark sighed, then muttered,
  "I just hope Nog and the rest of those heroic
idiots come back in one piece.... Just then, the
girl called Ginger snaked up to Vic dressed for a
night of questionable morality and puffed, HI'VIC,
sweetie, are you ready?
  Jimmy and Petey are about to go on."
  Vic got to his feet and let Ginger slip under
his arm.
  "Sorry, palue:" he said to Quark, "gotta
run. Durante and Lawford are at the Sands.
Can't miss that was "I thought you said a bartender's
life was a lonely one," Quark challenged.
  "It is-but I'm not a bartender."
  So much for a friendly ear. Quark watched as the
hologuy and gal slithered away into their own world.
  "Go fish:" he grumbled.
  This must be the computer's way of telling him he had
to five a real life, deal with the lack of personnel
on the station, and accept where they had gone. Strange
how lifelike the holoprograms could be, how
feeling and understanding, even to the point of forcing
them to think about reality in the midst of fantasy.
He'd tried to escape his real situation by coming to a
fake bar at a fake den, and it hadn't worked.
  Of course it hadn't. The station knew it was on
alert, and it knew perfectly well why. Could a
machine progrannned to connect reactions and
responses to appropriate information--could it
comprehend fear?
  Anticipation? Could it sense that things were not
normal today?
  Would a station on yellow alert warn a hologuy
and a hologal not to get too involved?
  "Yes, it could:" Quark muttered. "Why not?
It's the age of miracles, isn't it? The time of the
Prophets? The eon of starships and like wonders?
All right, then, you win. Hear me? I've had my
hand slapped. Back to reality. Program off."
  The Fire Caves were well-named: hot and
moist, walls dripping with condensate, shots of steam
spurting from cracks in the rocky floor.
  The climb up to them was no easy jog either, yet
somehow Dukat felt more invigorated than
exhausted.
  Behind him, however, he knew Kai Winn was
suffering from the excessive heat-which did not
bother him much, as he was Cardassian under the skin.
His heavy backpack, filled with artifacts and
ceremonial relics, was a good burden. Because he
would not touch the Kosst Amojan, though, Kai Winn
was charged with carrying the heavy book all the way
by herself. She sank against another stone outcropping,
looking as if she were about to melt.
  Dukat paused. "Is it re ally necessary to rest
every few minutes?"
  She heaved a series of breaths, obviously
troubled by the altitude as well as the heat. "I
don't need ... you ... to wait for me.... Go on
ahead ... wander around aimlessly in these caves for
... the rest of your miserable life."
  Ah-pushed the wrong buttons that time.
  He settled back on a rock that almost
provided a seat.
  "I'm in no hurry."
  Around them, the caves seethed and dripped, creating
for themselves a mystical voice that had over the ages
gained a reputation. The caves sang, some said.
They cried, said others. They cursed, wept, or
whispered. The caves were sorrow, some villagers
thought, or threat, thought others.
  There were mystical injunctions against
trespassing, or compelling charges to come here-perhaps
to die as a sacrifice to the Pah-wraiths, spirits
who claimed to be the true Prophets of Bajor.
Some thought that the caves were the throat of hell.
  Amazing.
  "You know, during the Occupation my people found the
Bajorans" fear of these caves amusing. Yet
somehow none of us ever found the time to visit them. And
now, here I am. Ironic, isn't it?"
  comI don't carecc"...Winn heaved.
  Dukat looked at her. "Excuse me?"
  "I'm sure you have many interesting anecdotes about
the Occupation"" she dismissed, "but I have no
desire to hear them" was "I meant no disrespect,
Adan at "And stop calling me
  "Adam!." That privilege is no longer
yours."
  Temper boiled in Dukat's chest. Though he
might appear Bajoran, he was Cardassian to the
core and this was a severe lowering of himself, to coddle a
Bajoran woman, to be forced to show her respect
he was disinclined to give, to bend to her wishes, and now
to be denied the right to call her by her primary name.
  He held his rage.
  comI see , he allowed. "comMen how
should I-?"
  Though he had some ideas about what to call her
instead, Kai Winn said, "From now on, you will
address me as
  "Eminence." Is that cleart' Some day ... some
day... Dukat gritted his teeth. "Perfectly,"
he said. "Your Eminence."
  How far must they go? How deeply into these caves,
how far into the belly of the planet would they have to trek
before they could find the prison of the Pah-wraiths and
use the power of the book to free them?
  Nothing ever came easy, it seemed. Once he
had been stripped of all past glories, he had
been given another chance to defeat the Federation and the
Prophets and everything that had worked to humiliate him
in his life.
  Now he would make yet another pact with power in
order to rise up again, yet it seemed he would have
to travel into the pit before he could free that power.
  Very well. He would no longer be driven down.
The time of reckoning was here. If he had to walk through
the molten core of Bajor in his bare feet, he
would succeed.
  "I see your point, general, but for two
millennia the Jem'Hadar have always been the
Dominion's first line of defense. It would damage
their morale to take a back seat to the Breen' was
The Founder shuddered against her illness, hoping the
Breen general would not see her weakness. She was,
in fact, not sure exactly what the Breen were able
to see through their life-sustaining helmets. Perhaps his
frosted face-shield blurred the crackling scabs
of her face and hands. Perhaps he saw her only as a
blur of humanoid form, but did not realize she was
stuck holding that form, without the strength to revert to her
natural shape.
  The sickness had made her a solid.
  Is static-voice erupted in a tone she had
come to recognize as anger, impatience. She
listened to his argument-that the Jem'Hadar had served
for two millennia without managing to carry the
Dominion to preeminence. Only since the Breen
forces had become aligned with the Dominion had
victory been within grasp.
  True enough; it was certainly possible that the
Jem'Hadar had outlived their collective
purpose. Sun, how would it appear to give in
totally so soon?
  A compromise might serve, and she would not have
to give all her advantages away at
once.
  "Very well:" she told him. "In the spirit of our
new alliance, I will inform the Jem'Hadar that the
Breen forces will be positioned alongside them on the
front lines. He chittered again, not entirely
satisfied, but at least put off for now.
  The Founder pressed painfully out of her chair.
Her skin cracked and withered as she moved. She could
barely hold the human form and had to pause to gather
strength-or more accurately, to fend off weakness before
leading the general to one of the access monitors.
  "I'm glad that pleases you,- she told him,
even though that hadn't been exactly what he'd said.
  They turned their attention to the strategic layout,
where Weyoun was studying the distribution of ships. "I
fear," he said, "our fines are spread too thin,
especially here at the center."
  The Founder pahffly rose from her chair and
struggled to the monitor.
  "Do you agree?" she asked the Breen general.
  He scrambled that he did agree, and thus the
Founder told Weyoun, "Notify the
Jem'Hadar. Order them to reinforce the center of our
lines. The Federation fleet usually begins their
assault by sending the smaller attack
fighters to create distractions and weaken the As she
touched the controls, the picture on the screen
suddenly flickered and went black. In the room, the
lights dimmed, wobbled, dimmed sin more and did not
come back to brightness. The computer screen flashed
once, then died.
  "Now what?" she complained.
  Seconds crawled by. What was happening? She
hated lack of control.
  Surprises were almost always bad.
  As she was about to call for Weyoun, the lights
burped back to life.
  The monitor also regained a picture, but it was
only a screen pattern.
  Connection with the strategic mainframe had been
disrupted.
  Before the Founder could curse the darkness, the door
opened and the newly appointed liaison from the
Cardassian force, Legate Broca, rushed in.
  "Founder! I'm relieved to see you're all
right:" She andM on him, bothered that he should use
the term "all right" when she was so obviously ill and
could no longer disguise the dessicating malady that was
slowly debilitating her.
  "What caused the power outage?" she
demanded.
  comSabotage," Broca dutifully told her,
without fixing up the bad news.
  "Almost every Dominion installation on Cardassia
Prime has suffered some form of damage!"
  comDamar!" the Founder gritted. "I thought you said
you had effiftated his rebel forces."
  "We captured some of the terrorists, but-was "But
what?"
  "These acts of terrorism," Weyoun
attempted, "they weren't carried out by a small
group of disgruntled Cardassian soldiers. The
culprits were ordinary citizens."
  The announcement embarrassed Broca, she could
clearly see-in fact, he was completely ashamed.
  And rightly so. Why hadn't he seen this coming? She
had charged him with keeping order on the planet.
  She raised her hand, much faster than she
expected herself capable of, and clasped him by the
throat. "Are you telling me the Cardassian people are
rising up against us."
  Broca choked, but did not fight her. "I'm
sure ... it's only ... a small number of
malcontents...... "We have no way of knowing that,
do we?"
  It was an enraging revelation. People who had been
controlled, finding a way to rise up? Average
citizens with no military support? Rise against
the greatness of the Dominion? The Cardassians? The
Jem'Hadar? Even the Breen?
  The Founder cast a glance at the Breen general,
and briefly entertained the idea of blaming him for not
seeing this coming and assigning troopers to stop it. She
could use that to deny him superiority over the
Jem'Hadar and force him to struggle harder on the
Dominion's behalf ... Ultimately, though,
she decided to keep using Weyoun, for he was the one
with a stake in control on Bajor. She would wait for
another time, when upsetting the balance would serve even
better.
  "Founder," Weyoun began, "may I make a
suggestion?"
  Still strangling the Legate, the Founder said,
  "I'm sure Broca is most interested in what
you have to say."
  The Vorta attache nodded elegantly and let
an extra second or two pass before saying,
  "If the Cardassian people are responsible for these
acts of terrorism ... if they've allowed Damar
and his fanatics to turn them against us, then
it's the people who should be punishedcc"W hat do you say
to that?" she asked Broca.
  Only his lips moved. "Severely punished...
Nearly exhausted herself, she dropped him
abruptly.
  "I'm glad we're all in agreement."
  AD the lights had been cut off Any
buildings without emergency backup generators were still
shut down and even some of those generators had been
damaged. The whole capital city was in blackout,
as well as almost every industrial center planet
wide. Wonderful.... Unfortunately, that also
meant there was no power in the resistance's cellar
headquarters.
  Damar reviewed with satisfaction the success of a
very long night's coordinated efforts. He had
to give Kira and her rebels credit. They had
done everything he had told them to, and with great
defibemtion and purpose. He had laid out every
industrial and tactical center on the planet, and
through clever coded messages they had organized
themselves and carried out the night's assault. If the
invasion fleet failed, it would not be because the planet
was in too good order and provided too solid a
support for the Cardassian fleet. A
planet in turmoil could do no fleet any
favors, and that was all he meant for Cardassia
to offer.
  No longer after this week would Cardassia be
minion to the arrogant Founders. Lower than the
Jem'Hadar, lower than the Breen-finally
Cardassia would be driven as low as any
civilization could go, and would have nowhere to travel but up
again, up to greatness and power and dominance in an Alpha
Quadrant free of the interloping shape shifters.
  If only they could see.... He peered through the
darkness to the circuit box, where Garak was fussing
at the junction, trying to trim off enough power to give
them a monitor, even just one.
  The only source of light was a single struggling
light stick near Garak, not enough to prevent Garak from
making some sort of mistake and getting his fingers
zapped by a rogue are.
  Frustrated, Garak muttered,
  "I could use some more light over here......
Hardly more than a silhouette as she stood guard
near the doorway, Kira accommodated,
  "Mila's looking for some upstairs-here she
comes."
  "Twenty-four minutes," Damar
finalized.
  Kira congratulated him with a
  "Not bad."
  "If the Dominion hasn't been able to restore
the power in the capital:" Garak observed, "then the
entire planet must be in chaos."
  "Let's hope so," Damar said.
  The old woman Mila appeared down the sum with
two more light sticks.
  "I'm afraid I could only find two light
sticks," she apologized. "I know there are others
in the house somewhere."
  "Stop dawdling:" Garak snapped, waving a
hand, "and bring them over to me!"
  The old Cardassian woman did as instructed.
"Ah, how well I remember that tone of voice
... it reminds me of the demanding and inconsiderate
little boy you used to be."
  On his side of the cellar, Damar chuckled.
Only a Cardassian woman could look back with
reverie on a nasty child.
  Garak gazed up at her. "I haven't changed
much, have IT" he asked.
  "Enough reminiscing"" Damar chastised. "We have
to get the power back up. I need to know how
much damage we have caused the Dominion."
  "If this part of the city is any indication", Mila
commented,
  "I'd say a lot."
  Damar squinted at the padd. "I'd love
to see the look on Weyoun's face right now."
  "Let's not fool ourselves, Damar," Kira
cautioned. "At best, we've won a skirmish.
We have to hit them again harder this time."
  "That won't be easy," Garak said. "They'll have
tightened their security."
  "It doesn't matter. We can't lose our
momentum."
  Damar offered her a smile. "The commander is right.
  We can't rest until we've rid ourselves of the
Dominion once and for all. And when we do, we'll
have you to thank. This rebellion would've died in
infancy if not for you."
  "How ironic , Garak added, that Cardassia's
savior should be a former Bajoran terrorist:"
77 "Don't canonize me just yet," Kira
demurred.
  All at once, the lights came back on. So
their work had come and gone now.
  "IW-ENTY-SIX and a half minutes,"
Damar concluded.
  "Let's see what the Dominion has to say for
itself."
  As he went to the monitor and tried to get it
back online, Garak added, "One thing's for
sure,-we've inconvenienced millions of
Cardassian citizens."
  Kira moved impatiently toward him. "Don't
you think it's a small price to pay if it helps
to bring down the Dominion?"
  Garak opened his mouth to shoot back a remark, but
his own success cut him off as the power was suddenly
restored, at least to this one room.
  The stairway remained dark, and there was no light
shining from upsLininm.
  That could be for the good.
  "I always said you were a smart boy," Afila
lauded.
  Ignoring their self-congratulating, Damar was
concentrating on getting the monitor to operate.
Finally it did, flickering to life just as Weyoun
appeared on the screen, the hated face of that
obsequious clown on the planet wide address
system, cooing his pompous opinion around the world.
  "Citizens of Cardassia ... I
speak to you tonight with a heavy heart.
  This latest wave of vandalism directed against your
Dominion allies must stop."
  "I wouldn't count on it:" Garak muttered.
  "The Dominion views these acts of vandalism as
nothing less than a eniel betrayal by a
once-valued ally.
  Let me assure you, we know that these disgraceful
acts of sabotage were carried out by a there handful of
disgruntled extremists who alone are to blame for this
treachery...... "comThat's us," Kira muttered,
"disgruntled to the core."
  "And extreme," Garak tacked on.
  Damar waved a hand. "Quiet."
  "But these radicals," the picture of Weyoun
continued, his violet eyes, bitter and concerned, set
in a face abnormally pale even for a Vorta,
"must come to realize that their disobedience will not be
tolerated ... that you, the Cardassian people, must suffer
the consequences of their cowardly actions."
  "Uh-oh"" Kira breathed.
  Damar couldn't remain quiet this time. "I
don't like the sound of that...... "comThat's why," the
monitor continuedea"...a few moments ago, Dominion
troops reduced Lakarian City
to ashes.
  There were no survivors ... two million men,
women, and children ... gone in a matter of seconds'
was Mila sank into the nearest chair.
  Disturbing, since at her age it was she who had
seen more atrocity and barbarism than the rest of them
put together. Kira folded her arms in visible
anguish. Even Garak had no words to ease the
astonishment.
  Damar was also appalled, the more so because he thought he
should have seen this coming. Still, the Vorta had been cunning
before, while not openly brutal.
  Weyoun had stopped talking for a few long painful
seconds, as if allowing the news to sink in all
over the planet. WW were the other millions of
Cardassians thinking, hoping, feeling, wishing? For the
deaths of the Vorta? The Dominion? Or the deaths
of the rebels?
  "Appalling, isn't it?" he cooed. "Life
is so precious ... now all that's left of those
vibrant, precious people are cinders in the dust. And
that's just the beginning."
  "Damar," Garak began.
  "Quiet!" Damar shot back.
  "From now on," Weyoun said, "for each
act of sabotage committed against the Dominion,
another Cardassian city will be destroyed."
  In each mind flimughout the cellar, perhaps throughout
the planet, each man and woman calculated how
many acts of sabotage must go by before there was nothing
left of Cardassia. Hardly anyone lived in the
countryside ... everyone else lived in a city.
It was a planet of cities. There was nowhere else
to hide, no way to live without the comforting
inft-astructure of civilization.
  Even their farmed foodstuffs were imported.
  Such a system had laid itself bare for slaughter.
Weyown had apparently found that out-Cardassians were
creatures of modern times, and could easily be herded
to the butcher's block.
  No one else had ever figured that out before. In
all of Cardassia's conquests, never before had the
battle come to their planet itself.
  "I implore you" the false sympathy of
Weyoun continued, "not to let that happen. Let us
look beyond the mistakes of the past and return to the spirit
of friendship and cooperation that existed between the Dominion
and Cardassia. Together we can accomplish what we
set out to do-defeat our common enemies ... the
Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans, and
all others who stand against us. Thank you."
  The screen went blank.
  No one spoke. Only the sound of Mila's
soft weeping disturbed the blanket of horror.
  "I knew there'd be reprisals," Kira
struggled, "but I didn't think they'd go this far. .
. ."
  Damar swung away from the monitor as if
dismissing it and Weyoun with it. "Do they re ally
think this is going to stop us?" he Wwatened.
  "Doesn't it?" Garak challenged. "How many
cities can we afford to lose?"
  "We can't afford to lose any," Damar told
him, "but we have to be willing to lose them all. We
must be free!
  Even if it costs us everything."
  Would they accept his charge? were they as committed as
he was to throwing off the yoke of the Dominion?
  He looked at Garak, then Kira. Oddly, the
one who gave him support was the one he didn't
address.
  Nkla. The old Cardassian woman who
seemed the weakest among them, reduced to bringing tea
and fight sticks, now turned her tear-streaked face
up to him. She was no longer crying, though.
She had passed through that, and now drove them on
to something far more moving.
  "We must be free," she said.
  Damar gazed at her in gratitude, the first
gaze of credibility he had ever offered her. She
deserved recognition for her bravery, for being willing
to stand behind his rash words, indeed words that might result
in the utter eradication of their race.
  Seeing what was happening, and that there was no going
back, Kira unfolded her arms and straightened her
shoulders. "Then we have to hit them again. Right away.
  They won't be expecting that."
  Shoring up his own posture, Damar took a
single step to the center of the cellar. "I should've
killed that Vorta jackal when I had the chance."
  "You night get another chance;" Kira told
him. "We have to attack Dominion Headquarters."
  Garak stepped into Damar's periphery. "Chop
off a snake's head and its body dies."
  "Damar," Kira said, stepping closer, "for the
past two years you practically lived in that
building-was "If You're asidng me whether I know
a way to get us inside, the answer is no," he
told her irascibly. "Not without valid security
protocols" I Tkn we'll have to force
our way in.
  Garak, we'll need some kind of explosive
device."
  "I'll get right on it:" Mila stood up
slowly. "What you're proposing ... is
suicide! "Mila;" Garak snapped, "if you
don't have anything positive to say-was The old
woman looked at him with an expression that caused
even the gregarious Garak to fall silent with
respect. She had been through more in her life than the
three of them could claim in their combined lives.
Something changed for her in that moment, and for them because of her
expression.
  Though her words were simple and pedestrian, her
meaning was profound.
  "I'll prepare you some food. No one should die
on an empty stomach."
  Ben Sisko felt his pride buffeted by what he
saw on the new battleship's wide forward
screen.
  Yes, the combined of lied fleet must be an
impressive sight-he could only see part of it from
the port- and starboard-side auxiliary
monitors-but what was coming at them out of the night was
even more formidable in its ruthlessness.
  Before them the combined forces of the angry, insulted
Dominion, Breen, and Cardassian fleets were
arrayed, fully armed, shielded, and ready for this last
great battle with the civilizations they had decided
to conquer.
  While Starfleet, the Klingons, and the
Romulans were defending their very homes and had much
to lose, the Dominion armada had nothing here
to protect and could afford to be bold. Sisko would be
lying to himself if he hadn't admitted to a cold
ball in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the enemy
armada. It was downright intimidating to see them coming.
  Emissary or not, Prophet's son or not,
commander and captain or not, Sisko was stricken with an
all-too human instinctive shudder at the sight of
Romulan war birds and Cardassian
battleships left over from the days when the
Romulans were enemies. Those ships carried with them
echoes of two brutal civilizations that had
variously targeted human beings and Earth as their
ultimate enemy in both spirit and cause. In the
past, Starfleet had been forced to fight for the life
of the Federation against both those mighty organizations, and
more lately against the Dominion and those pesky,
purposeful Jem'Hadar who did the
Founders' bidding. How many more times in history would the
Federation have to come up against determined conquerors? And
could they prevail one more time?
  This was an old song, and no one yet knew the
last verse.
  "Sir?"
  Ezri shook him out of his doomful thoughts.
  He looked toward her, but couldn't sunn non a
simple response.
  "Admiral Ross would like to speak to you:" she
said.
  Well, he had to find his voice for that, didn't
he?
  nOn screen," he managed.
  The forward view screen changed away from the
ominous view of the distant and closing enemy armada
to the somehow less heartening vision of Admiral
Ross on the bridge of his flagship, the Starship
Farragut.
  "I'd say we have our work cut out for us,
Captain," he simply said.
  No point being formal or particularly mystical
everybody could see the armada by now.
  "Looks that way," Sisko bluntly said.
  Ross offered a non regulation shrug.
"Good luck."
  That was it? Just good luck?
  Sisko suddenly empathized with the admiral-what
else could he say? A rousing speech of hope and
glory, or just a simple exhortation, like Nelson
before Trafalgar ... we expect every man to do his
duty ... "Sir," Ezri interrupted.
"Chancellor Martok is requesting a three-way
cormnunication with you and Admiral Ross." Why
not? Baring any more bright telegrams from his mother, how
many more surprises could happen with the enemy in sight?
  Should ask Ross, though, just to be polite.
  "Admiral?" he offered.
  Ross paused, then said,
  "Put him through."
  The screen split into two halves, one with
Ross, the other with the famous and deserving Klingon
warrior Martok who had been so true a friend
to Sisko for ... was it almost a year?
  "Gentlemen!" Martok looked invigorated as
he raised both amis in greeting. "A glorious
victory lies before us!"
  "I trust those are prophetic words,
Chancellor." Admiral Ross said, not seeming
to want to commit just yet.
  "They are:" Martok apparently read the
subdued admiral's tone correctly, and lowered his
own voice. "I haven't forgotten the promise I
made to both of you."
  Sisko smiled. "That the three of us would share a
hottle of blood wine on Cardassia Prime."
  "A bottle! I brought a barrel of 2309!
There is no finer vintage!"
  Ross nodded resignedly, obviously not in the
spirit of this at all.
  "Then I'll meet you both on Cardassia."
  "Let us see who gets there first!" Martok
raised a fist, and instantly cut off his
transmission.
  Without ceremony, Ross cut his own off, and
once again Sisko was alone with his own ship and crew.
He had to admit admiration for Martok's
old-fashioned Klingon spirit, for which the battle gave
as much satisfaction as the victory, if any. The
there act of fighting held its own kind of honor.
He understood that, in its ancient klingon way, but
today he also clearly saw the results of failure
lurking in their dim future. They wouldn't get a
second chance against a force as determined and
providential as the Dominion. Perhaps it
was all the years of close proximity to Odo,
discovering and later depending upon the shape shifter's
strong personal resolve, his versatility, and the
depth of his conviction.
  To come up against a whole race of such mystical
beings-so physically advanced, so intelligent, and
yet deteriffined ... this was a frightening thing. The
Founders were advanced in many ways, yes, but their
backward sense of superiority and lack of
respect for other life forms made them very dangerous
indeed.
  At the helm, Nog broke the silence. "The
chancellor makes it sound like an easy victory."
  Maybe the ensign wanted somebody to agree with
Martok. Sisko couldn't offer him that.
  "He knows it won't be:" he said instead. This
was it.
  He struck the comm unit on the arm of his command
chair, broadcasting his voice directly to every
deck.
  "Sisko to all hands. Prepare to engage the
enemy."
  The Federation fleet was made up of six
squadrons of Starfleet vessels, each led
by two heavy enser star ships, van guarded
by four assault ships and twenty light ex-s, and
rear guarded by two destroyers charged not to let the
enemy get past them. Sisko remembered picket
duty-it was critical and frustrating to lag behind,
to be the last line of defense, waiting to swat down
any enemy ships that punched through the primary line.
Here there were no home planets to defend, but the
destroyers were charged with making sure that any
Cardassian, Breen, or Jem'Hadar ships that
ruptured the Allied lines couldn't turn around and
attack unsuspecting ships who might be engaged
to forward and not expect attacks from the rear.
  Starfleet flanked the main body of the Allied
fleet to port side. On the starboard were the
Klingon heavy cruisers and their support wings.
  In the middle, making up the biggest portion, were the
Romulan warmings, moth erships, and a phalanx of
birds-of-prey in front. Over the past ten years
or so, the Romulans had been at war least of any
of the three civilizations, and simply had more ships in
better condition than either the Federation or the
Klingons. Sisko might have been bothered by the
primary position of the Romulans, except that it was
his own idea to put them there. He'd suggested this
formation to Ross when they'd first discussed the
idea of a mass assault. Unlike the Klingons,
who could be rash, 87 the Romulans were
unflappable, fearless, calm, and calculating. They
would make a very firm trunk for the Allied tree.
Bristling with a hedgehog of Klingon fighters along
the whole vanguard of all three battalions, the
Allied fleet was as well organized and positioned
as Sisko could ever have hoped.
  Soon, he knew, the beautiful formation would smash
headlong into the ovoid cluster of enemy ships, make
its best first assault, then dissolve into a hundred
individual dogfights. At that moment, the
glorious painting of martial wonder would turn
bloody.
  He was ready. They all were. In fact, they were
impatient to get going, to lance the wound that had so long
festered.
  There go the Klingon advance fighters!" O'Brien
gasped.
  On the forward screen they watched as the prickly
Klingon line suddenly surged forward, gaining speed
in a shocking rush, firing as they went, not waiting
to be fired upon.
  In the distance, the egg-shaped enemy formation spread
apart suddenly as if to engulf the approaching
fighters. A fireworks of ice-green bulbs of
light erupted across open space, as KH-NGON
streaks of yellow disuptor fire encountered
Jem'Hadar shields. Then the Jem'Hadar
returned fire and advanced to meet the fighters.
  "Hold formation"" Sisko ordered, sensing the
rush of adrenaline getting the better of his crew.
"Let them come to us."
  To their starboard, the Farragut and Nelson
surged forward suddenly, and before them the line of
Starfleet fighters broke formation, parted like a
melon cut with a knife, and peeled off in two
different directions.
  "When we engage"" Sisko began evenly,
  "I want to concentrate on one enemy ship at a
time. That's going to be hard. They'll be all around
us. Unless we're being fired upon, don't respond
to any passes. Keep your eyes on the one ship
we target and stay on its tail.
  Understood?"
  "Understood:" Nog answered, echoed by Ezri and
Worf behind him.
  "They'll be expecting us to try fighting whatever
comes within a certain radius of us:" O'Brien
commented.
  't's my point:" Sisko told him.
"They'll be caught off guard if we act as
mechanically as they will. The Jem'Hadar, the
Breen-they haven't got much in common, but one thing's
for s (i that's their collective lack of
imagination. They've no doubt been told to expect
surprises. It'll confound them completely if we
don't give them what they expect. So let's be
as tenacious as pit bulls and see how far we
get. One ship at a time-that's the trick."
  "No glory," Bashir continented with a noble
smile.
  "No heroes"" Odo agreed.
  Sisko nodded. "Shields up. Red alert.
Battle stations."
  Ezri's voice quivered just a little on the PA.
"Battle stations. All hands to battle stations.
General quarters, all hands. Full red alert."
  They'd been wondering when he was going to order that.
He had deliberately held off until the last
sensible second, so they wouldn't be poised for so long
that the rush wore off. He needed that rush right now, not
an hour ago.
  The turbo lift hissed open and spilled six more
crewmen onto the bridge, backup and
support teams for engineering, sensory, and
tactical stations. "Mese were the men who would've
taken O'Brien's, Ezri's and Worf's posts
on a watch rotation. Now it was all hands on
deck.
  Everybody had plenty to do. Every monitor now had
a crewman manning it, spreading the duty out and
letting each of them concentrate on specific
readouts and breakdowns.
  On the screen, the enemy formation continued to break
up in an organized fashion, typical of
progrannned soldiers all taking orders from a
few key brain cores.
  That could work in the AH-IES" favor-they weren't
re ally fighting dozens of smart, quick-flimng
captains; instead, they were fighting only a handful of
masterminds, perhaps Vorta, or even a Founder or
two. That was the problem with central control-no
variety. Sisko saw it immediately in the way all the
enemy lines of ships moved in the same order, on
both sides and the top and bottom of the egg-shaped
assault formation.
  The Allied fleet, though, was made up of a
thousand time-tried captains, each clever in his way,
each with different tactics and different
experience. Every Jem'Hadar or Breen ship would
find itself facing a completely unique set of
talents. They wouldn't be able to distill what
happened, then carry that experience to the next ship and the
next: what worked once wouldn't necessarily work
twice.
  "Put some distance laterally between us and the starships,"
he ordered.
  "Aye, sir," Nog nervously responded.
  The Defiant hummed purposefully about them, and
pressed off to port.
  Before them now were at least two dozen Breen
fighters on full-impulse approach. The distance
was closing fast.
  "Pick one, Mr. Worf," Sisko offered,
"and fire when ready. Ensign, plot an intercept
course, then be prepared to bear off on a pursuit
vector."
  "I'm ready," the helmsman claimed with false
boldness.
  Sisko didn't say anything. Once they were
actually shooting, actually chasing, something else would
replace the fear he heard in Nog's voice.
  Despite his preparation, mentally and physically,
Sisko flinched a Httle when he felt
the energy of phaser fire blast through the coils and
into open space from the Defiant. Their first shot in this
ship-would she stand up to the pressure?
  In the herd of rushing Jem'Hadar and Breen
fighters, one Jem'Hadar ship heaved and crumpled
into a ball of yellow fire.
  "Good girl"" he murmured. "Excellent
shot, Mr. Worf, pick another one-was
"Incoming!" someone shouted, and the ship rocked up on
her starboard edge.
  Emergency klaxons erupted. Hull breach!
  "Plug it up, Chief," Sisko said, charging
O'Brien with making sure himself that their first hit
wasn't their last.
  "Aye, sir!" O'Brien dodged for the forward
lock down, shoving an ensign out of the way.
  "Pursuit, Ensign. Don't let him get
away with it."
  "Pursuing, sir!"
  The ship surged trtightily, still possessing all
her power despite the hull hit. There wasn't a
sense of sluggishness now, that was for sure!
  Nog spun them off in pursuit of a Breen
fighter, and off the two ships went into space in a
furious dance, as if held together by a string.
  "I'll say one thing for the Breen:" Nog said
through gritted fangs, "they know how to pilot a
ship."
  "So do you, Ensign;" Sisko told him.
"Stay with him."
  "I'm trying, but he's slippery!"
  mr. Worf?"
  "Unable to lock target"" Worf reported,
frustration showing in his tone.
  Suddenly, as the Breen ship ducked abruptly
below the screen's fine of view, the Defiant
jolted twice, hard, and the bridge filled with
bitter smoke. One of the ensigns at the engineering
deck went down in a cloud.
  "We have two Jem'Hadar ships coming in behind
us"" Odo reported over the whine of the vents,
"bearing oneUs equals comsix mark four!"
  "Evasive action, pattern Delta:"
Sisko order, breaking his own advice to ignoring
whatever came around behind them. One, yes. Two,
no.
  "Hang on!" Nog leaned into his hehlm.
  "Worf, get one of those bastards!" Sisko
called.
  "Targetingcc"...Worf answered, and
instantly opened fire, laying down a scatter
pattern that smeared one of the Jem'Hadar and skinned
the other.
  They watched as one of the enemy ships spun
hideously, then blew itself to bits, spraying
debris and energy wash over them and over the wobbling
Jem'Hadar ship that had veered off in hopes of
staying alive long enough to repair its damage.
  "Well done, Ensign," Sisko offered.
  "I lost the Breen ship we were after," Nog
howled.
  "I wouldn't be too worried about it. There are
plenty of others to choose from. Pick another one and
advance.
  Damage control, to the bridge. Engineering,
what's the status down there? Report to Chief
O'Brien. Worf, let's have tactical display
on both beams. Nog, full about.
  The battle's back there!"
  "I don't care how many of their installations you
target. You have to strike at their headquarters, or
they won't be crippled enough for it to have any real
effect."
  Kira huddled over their one monitor and made
her comments as if speaking directly to the little
map of Cardassia City that showed on the flickering
screen.
  Damar appreciated her boldness as he scanned
the map from her side.
  Now that they had decided what to do, they were
severely stalled over just how to do it.
  "comThat would be suicide," he eventually
concluded.
  "Besides, without the security protocols, we'll
never penetrate the outer defense perimeter.
  "Damar," Kira protested, "you must have some knowledge
about their security protocols-something you haven't
thought of."
  "It's not complicated enough to have forgotten much.
  I assure you, my personal codes are no
longer valid."
  She sighed. "There has to be another way in.
A back door, some weakness in their security
system that you noticed...... Think, she added without
actually saying it.
  Damar sifted through his years coming and going freely
at Dominion Headquarters, a trusted aide
decamp. He had never had to dWill about sneaking in or
out or breaking in. In fact, he had never had
to break in or out of anything. He'd
pursued criminals in his time, recaptured others
who'd done the breaking, but he had always arrived after the
Cardassians already held a particular facility.
  Now he had to learn to think differently-m
Kira's fire like eyes were now charging him. Over
there, Garak was watching him with his wide-eyed glare
also, expecting him to fail the task.
  Think ... what were the headquarters"
priorities?
  How would they change if there were a battle in
space to pulling away the warders who normally stood
watch around the perimeter? How would the troops
inside be reassigned to make the most of their
depleted numbers, if there were trouble on the planet
and insufficient forces remained inside headquarters?
What would he do if he were in charge?
  What entrances would he assume the citizenry
might target, and which would he assume they knew
nothing about? And which of those lesser temptations might go
unprotected? Something a civilian would never think
of.?
  "As I recall:" he began tentatively,
"there is a rear cargo door that wasn't heavily
guarded. . .
  Kira instantly turned to Garak, who
was saying,
  "We'll need some kind of explosive device.
I'll get right on it was Before he could stand, Mila
reached past him to his plate of half-eaten rations.
"Elim, I remember when you used to love my
cooking."
  "I still do"" Garak placated.
  "You have a strange way of showing it. You've
hardly touched your meal. No wonder you don't
look well."
  "Of course I don't look well! I've
been living in a cellar!"
  Mila picked up Damar's empty plate.
"So has Legate Damar."
  "What about him?" Garak snapped.
  "He finished everything on his plate, and it shows.
  Vftch explains why he's fine handsome figure
of a man."
  "I'm not sure I follow you."
  "I do," Kira said with a catty smile.
"Nfila, I believe you're falling in love' was
Nfila actually blushed, her gray faced turning
a distinct purple. "I'm old enough to be his mother."
  "Nonsense," Damar spoke up.
  Mila smiled at him, charmed by his
favor. "He's such a politician!"
  Damar started to say something more, but the warning light
from the upstairs alley enhince clicked on. It was
Mila's house-for anyone else to answer the door
would be to give themselves away.
  "Who could that be?" Garak explored.
  Mila held up a hand. "I'll find out was She
trundled up the stairs and disappeared around the bend
of the landing.
  "One of our informants, maybe?" Kira
wondered.
  "They're all waiting for orders. We've put
them on alert."
  "And I contacted all my tonner shipmates,"
Damar said. "The ones I trust, in anyway."
  "You did what?" Kira rounded on him. "Did
you tell them where we are?
  What we're planning?"
  "I told you, they were men I trust," he
insisted, angry that she would challenge him and yet not
particularly surprised that she had. "We cannot
possibly act alone, with only a few clusters of
civilians moving with us, Colonel. We must have
military backing if we are ultimately
to succeed."
  Kira's ink-dot eyes flared. "I think you
overestimate your friends, Damar."
  "That is my decision. I am Cardassian ,
he told her with sudden pride. "We understand
conquest, and whatever you think about us, we understand
struggle too. We never engaged in wholesale
slaughter like the Dominion did today."
  Kira raised a warning hand. "This is a bad
subject:" "Yes, let's change it"" Garak
quickly agreed. "I'd rather worry about the actions we
have to take tonight. I hope our regional
operatives all have the nerve to go Mmugh with our
plan, even if it means sacrificing another
city."
  Damar drew a breath and slowly let it out. "I
know it's a grim plan, but we cannot allow ourselves
to fall back because of a threat from Weyoun!"
  "It's hardly an idle threat was Garak pointed
out. "Weyown is not one to play games, despite
the sickening sauce of his manner. After all, he
did wipe out a whole city of innocent civilians
just to teach us a lesson. I have no doubt he'll do
it again."
  Damar ignored him and went to the foot of the
stairs.
  "What's taking her so long?"
  Garak peered up the stairs. "I'm not
sure...... At the top of the stairs another door
opened. Light flooded the stave fl-outdoor
light!
  Kira drew her sidearm. Some instinct had
triggered her reaction.
  Damar pulled Garak back a step.
  "Nfila!"
  Garak's shriek was bloodcurdling. For an
instant Damar almost scolded him for bellowing
needlessly.
  Then, he saw the need.
  NE-LA'S lifeless body came rolling down the
stairs like some kind of hideous sponge falling off a
ledge.
  "Mila!" Garak shouted again, and plunged for the
body of his old nanny.
  Kira bolted,
  "Garak, look out!"
  As Garak reached Nfila's body, a small
metal device came looping down the steps.
  "Concussion grenade!" Damar shouted, and dove for
cover.
  Kira grasped for Garak. That was the
last thing Damar saw, as a flash of detonation
engulfed the small quarters, punching them all
backward in a blur of energy.
  Flat on his back in a place that had no cover
to duck for, Damar tried to roll over, but his
paralyzed limbs mocked him. Even his eyes lay
open, unable to blink.
  Kira was moving a few steps from him, her clawed
hand crawling for her weapon, which lay somewhere over there
... when a booted foot kicked away the weapon.
  Motion flurried through the room. Kira seemed
to float up into the rmddle of the air, then collapse
into a chair.
  Now Garak was floating by.
  A bulging white face appeared in Damar's
vision, blocking everything else. Jem'Hadar!
  Damar tried to raise his arms, and there was some
groggy movement, but his body was still stunned and not under
control. He was dragged to his feet, moved across the
room to Kira and Garak, and deposited with them, as
they too began to shake away the daze of the stun.
  Captured!
  "I congratulate you, Thor Pran. The
Breen's worthiness in battle proves itself once
again."
  The Founder looked with appreciation at the
successful measures being taken in space, as
broadcast to them by their forces now challenging the
Allied invasion fleet.
  "Founder," Weyoun said from the other side of the
monitor system, "more good news. Our was have
captured the traitor Damar."
  "Excellent!"
  "That's not all. Colonel Kira and Garak have
been apprehended with him."
  "Even better."
  "Shall I have them brought herer' She considered that,
lingering briefly over the possibility of witnessing
their execution herself and how much satisfaction that would
provide. Also, though, it provided a chance for
escape.
  "Mthat for?" she told him. "Have them executed
immediately."
  Weyoun turned away. "With pleasure."
  When she was sure he could no longer see her
face, the Founder indulged in a rarity. She
smiled.
  Dead. They were finished. The whole resistance was
finished. The regional operatives would hold
back their action until Damar gave the
signal, and he was suddenly in no position to do so.
  Thwo Cardassian guards loomed over Kira.
Two Jem'Hadar kept watch on Garak and
Damar.
  That made some sense, Damar realized. They
weren't allowing Cardassians to watch other
Cardassians. Sentiment might overtake someone.
He had to give the Jem'Hadar more credit than he
ever had before. They were beginning, in their programmed and
limited way, to understand the nature of emotional
beings. They had no intuition, but they had learned
to anticipate the behavior of their enemies. He
would have to remember this.
  If he had a future from which to gaze back.
  He noted Garak glancing at him, wondering if
he had a plan to get them out of this. But Damar had
no answer for him. He had genuinely thought their
presence hadn't been detected. Apparently he
would never get the chance to become an even better
rebel leader than he had managed so far.
  The Jem'Hadar First was over there talking into his
co nun device and getting orders from his commander.
  Now he broke off, and came to face the three
captives.
  "On your feet:" he snapped.
  "WhyThat" Kira defied. She didn't get
up.
  The First nodded to his men, who reached down,
clasped Kira by the collar and dragged her to her
feet.
  Damar almost lashed out, but he had no chance against the
armed guards.
  A moment, and he and Garak were also both against the
wall at Kira's side.
  "We prefer our prisoners to be standing when they
die", the First announced, as if the Jem'Hadar
had any traditions at all.
  Damar glanced at the other two prisoners. They
both looked at him, and each knew they had no way
out of this.
  Garak cleared his throat. "Does anyone have
any final words The asked ridiculously.
  Damar glared at the Jem'Hadar. "We may
die, but Cardassia will-was "Enough!" the First barked.
"Final words are not permitted."
  Garak sighed. "How disappointing."
  The First stepped back. "Ready weapons!"
  Kira raised her chin, staring death in the face.
  Admiring her, Damar did the same. Even
Garak was willing to stare death down without a
whimper, and Damar had to give him respect for that.
  Damar felt his eyes tighten. He refused
to close them.
  He waited for the blast, calculating absurdly
in his mind how quickly the body would seize up from an
energy overload, what his muscles would do, how long
his brain would sizzle, how much it might hurt to die
this way.
  Perhaps the worst thing was seeing it coming, having to stand
here and wait for it without being able to fight. He should
lunge-at least die in a scuffle The blast
brightened the cellar room in mockery of the pathetic
hghtsticks Mila had so dutifully provided.
  Dwnar held his breath. It took longer than he
had expected.
  Was this some kind of freezing ray? Why wasn't
he falling down? Or dissolving?
  Before him, the two Jem'Hadar soldiers seized
and fell. The First swung around and aimed his weapon
at the two Cardassian guards he had himself brought
in, fired and killed one of them. The other
Cardassian, though, fired his own weapon, and the
Jem'Hadar First buckled, rolled away, and lay
dying seconds later on the cold stone floor.
  "That's for Lakarian City," the
remaining Cardassian growled. Kicking aside one
of the Jem'Hadar at his feet, the Cardassian
stepped over the body and came to Damar.
  "Legate Damar, I am Ekoor. I pledge
my life to free Cardassia from the Dominion!"
  Giddy with pleasure at this turn, Damar
clapped the newcomer on his shoulder and cried,
  "Welcome, Ekoor!
  Tell me-how many are with you?"
  "Dozens," Ekoor claimed instantly. "And
hundreds more moment by moment. Weyoun's announcement
enraged Cardassians to wake up from our slumber."
  "Finally!" Garak gushed.
  "Your resistance has shamed many of us;" Ekoor
went on, rewarding Kira with a nod that seemed
to indicate that he also understood who she was.
  "Our armada has gone off to stand by the Dominion
in the fight against the Allied fleet." Ekoor said,
"but we're getting contacts now from many ship commanders.
Weyoun at "Don't tell me that fool
broadcast his threat to the ships!" Kira burst out.
  Ekoor nodded vigorously. "He did!"
  "He doesn't understand Cardassians at
all"" Damar announced with contempt. "We will
only collaborate so far. We will not be
threatened."
  "Sounds familiar," Kira grumbled.
  Damar grasped Ekoor's arm. "What are the
comreanders saying? Our ships-what are they saying!"
  "Whatever they're saying"" Kira interrupted,
"we've got to get a message through to Starfleet and
tell them about it. Ekoor, where's the nearest
planet-to-space communications system?"
  "I know where it is"" Damar said. "Follow
me."
  The edge of an abyss. Beyond, the abyss stretched
nearly beyond sight, and at that point a sheer red wall
rose. Dukat surveyed the surreal environment,
its steaming gushers and unseen source of light
despite the depths, and contemplated the alien ness
of Bajor.
  "This is it, isn't it?" he asked.
  Nearly exhausted, Kai Winn paused to rest.
"We've reached the end of one journey and stand ready
to begin another."
  Yes, well, that was an answer to a simple question.
  Dukat moved to the edge of the abyss aDd peered
down into the spiraling canyon. Trite though it
sounded in his mind, the pit re ally did look
bottomless.
  "What's the matter, Dukat?" Winn pestered.
"You look disappointed."
  "I know this sounds naive," he allowed, "but I
was expecting to see fire. After all, they are
called the Fire Caves."
  "And with good reason." She gathered her robes,
knelt to the gnarly rocks, and put the Kosst
Amojan down before her. Reverently she opened the
enormous book, selected a particular passage,
and closed her eyes.
  She began to chant.
  LANO KALA BO'SHAR LANU NO'VALA
PAH ROM GA RANA MOKAO BA'JAH
KO'SE
  NUSSO
  MA'KORA KAJANI . . .
  LANO KALA KOSST AMOJAN!
  Dukat frowned. He didn't under land the words,
and he wondered for a moment if she was leading him on.
  That thought dissolved when the Fire Caves's gaping
abyss erupted into wall after wall of flames. Every
her was now burning as if giant curtains had been
soaked in oil.
  Such a sight! Breathless, Dukat absorbed the
magnificence of mysticism and pondered the
unrevealed science that made all this a wonder and a
mystery. He felt as if the fires had come for him
alone, to make him believe.
  The Pah-wraiths were sending him a message of
victory.
  They would come if he freed them, they would go before him
and knock down the Prophets and Sisko and the
Federation and all its allies. The Cardassian
Empire would gain its old greatness in the Alpha
Quadrant. The name of Dukat would once again
carry influence, instill fear, deserve respect.
  This time, though, it would all be different. He would
have his own respect, for a change.
  Kai Winn opened her eyes. "Is that better?"
  Derelict and wounded ships trailed sickeningly
across the black skies all around. Some limped by,
still firing, streaming leakage and flowing energy like
life's blood.
  Others speared through the damaged lines, scattering
formations that struggled to recongeal. Two hours into the
battle, and no side showed signs of retreat.
Now the fighting at these speeds and with these maneuvers
became far more dangerous, adding the very good chance of
slamming headlong into a ship that no longer had the power
to move out of the way.
  Sisko snapped orders every few seconds,
pausing in between to assess the ever-changing situation
outside. He was trying to be Nog's eyes and
ears, for no one person could do it all. Nog had a
very good ability to concentrate, but he had tunnel
vision, and frequently concentrated too hard on one
enemy while another slipped up behind him.
  They were all working together, all watching, patching,
fighting in their own way. Bashir hovered over a
wounded man on the lower deck, the sixth emergency
on the bridge alone, while funneling orders down
to triage nurses on the lower decks.
  "Xaptdn:" Ezri called over the clatter and
noise,
  "I have Admiral Ross."
  "Onscreen' The Admiral's crackled
figure appeared on the forward screen. Sisko
couldn't tell if it was Defiant's damage or
Farragut's that was causing the disruption, though it
didn't matter.
  ""U Romulan flagship D"'bbidthau
has been destroyed;" Ross said without formality.
"Their entire line is collapsing" comWe'Do try
to help:" Sisko offered.
  "With what? Ben, we're losing too many
ships! We've got to find a way to turn the
Dominion's flank."
  "It's too well protected , Sisko
assessed, knowing he could see the flank better from his
position than Ross possibly could. "But their
lines are spread pretty thin in the middle, he
offered as an alternative.
  The Defiant took another hard hit, which
luckily didn't cut off the communication.
  "You stick with the Romulans"" Ross told
him. "Martok and I will hammer away at their
center."
  "On my way." He turned to Ezri. "Have
attack fighters six-four and six-five follow
us."
  "Aye, sir."
  comJem'Hadar ship off the port bow!" Nog
shouted as the ship took another rocking hit.
  Sisko scanned the readouts on the starboard
side from his place midships. They couldn't plug
any holes unless they could get out of here alive.
  "Shields are down to sixty percentcc"...Worf
reported.
  Sisko almost said something about the shields, but
O'Brien would be on it without prodding, and
sixty percent was still a lot of deflecting power.
  A second direct hit nearly threw them to their
knees.
  Sisko clung to the helm, adding up numbers.
  "Another Jem'Hadar!" Nog announced
uselessly.
  O'Brien climbed up from the lower trunks.
"Diverting auxiliary power to port shield
vectors!"
  "Dax, we need some support from our
fighters:" Sisko requested, far more calmly
than he felt.
  "Breen ship attacking off the starboard stern:"
Nog reported, seeming to lose the will to shout
anymore.
  Just as well.
  "Sir," Ezri turned, "most of our attack
fighters are either destroyed or under attack themselves."
  Sisko acknowledged with a dismissing nod, then
turned to the helm.
  "You're going to have to get us out of here, Ensign."
  "I'm trying, sir."
  Odo appeared out of a cloud of rank smoke from the
ops console. "Sir, there's a squadron of
Romulan war birds de cloaking ahead,
bearing one-seven-four mark one-three-nine" was
Ah, the cavalry.
  "Make a beeline for them," he ordered.
  "On the way!" Nog said with a new cheer in his
voice.
  "I just hope we get there in one piece."
  Around them dozens of Jem'Hadar ships and
Breen fighters closed on Defiant. Sisko
knew he'd been suckered-his reputation had
preceded him.
  It would be a victory for them to take down the
bulldog of Deep Space Nine, to destroy yet
a second Defiant, and perhaps kill the crew that
had stood them off for so long, sometimes singlehandedly
He knew now that the holes had been punched in the
Romulan lines to bait help from Starfleet, and
he had attempted to answer that call. They knew
he would.
  Did they know how hard he would fight? He hoped
so. Bring "em on!
  comOpen fire , he called. "Shoot at anything
that gets in range.
  Never n-nd the shields. Everyone concentrate
on firepower, understandt" "Aye, sir!" Worf
eagerly answered.
  "Understood!" O'Brien said, and they went to work.
  Shot after shot rotted from the Defiant, blasting
herself a path in the cluttered pool of space.
Several ships tried to get out of their way, which felt
good, but three persistent enemy vessels dogged them
mercilessly-wo Breen, one Jem'Hadar. As they
beat off two of them, one Breen ship gunned its
power and came around underneath Deft ant. SiskDo
saw it on one of the monitors, but there was nod ling
to be done with all working weapons and all sensm
engaged on the two that had them by the tad.
  He was mocked breathless by an abmpt surge of the
whole ship a full length sideways. As he
grasped the command chair and tried to recover, half the
engineering console blew out toward him. Only a
quickly raised hand shielded his face from hot sparks
that w" the skin of his wrist and knuckles. As he
blinked past the smoke, he was gripped by the
nightmare of O'Brien collapsing to the deck, his
shoulder a matte of blood.
  Sisko hammered the co nun link on his chair.
"Dr. Bashir to the bridge!"
  "Yes, sir?"
  He turned-Bashand appened in the vestibule.
Psychic? Or just luck when they needed it
most
  "You needed me, Captain?" Dr. Bashir
spilled out of the lift and waved at the smoke.
  Sisko just nodded toward O'Brien, who was
miraculously crawling back into his chair.
  "Chief caught a piece of shrapnel," he
called over the clatter and howl of battle.
"Worf, shields aft!"
  "Aye aye. Julian Bashir choked his way
across the bridge, dazzled briefly by the sheer
weight of occurrences the captain was fielding, and
bent over Miles O'Brien, who was gasping his
way through waves of pain.
  Bashir recognized that in O'Brien-the engineer
was trying to set the pain aside so he could get back
to work. The gash in his shoulder had other ideas.
  comI can't leave you alone for a minute" Bashir
commented as he applied pressure to the bleeder.
  "Just fix it, Julian:" O'Brien gasped.
He reached up with his good arm and continued to work the
panel in front of him, then winced in pain.
  "Vmfid!
  "Sit still or you're going to wind up with one arm
shorter than the other."
  The ship rocked sickeningly under them and for a
moment Bashir had to stop what he was doing and hang
on until the inertia turned him loose again.
  "You'd do anything" O'Brien grumbled, "to beat
me at darts:" comI haven't lost a game to you in
months$7 dis.i'm going to miss playing darts with
you, Julian... Bashir frowned through the smoke at
his friend's blood-drained face.
  "What are you talking about? Your shoulder's going
to be fine."
  "I'm leaving DS9 ... going back to Earth."
  Keeping a pressure pad on the wound, Bashir
had a moment to absorb the shock. Had he heard
right? Why would Ailes go away?
  "WhenThat' he asked.
  O'Brien coughed. "When the war's over."
  Dealing with a wound of a different kind, Bashir dared
the question whose answer he was afraid he knew.
  O'Brien looked at him. "I've been offered
a position at Starfleet Academy.
Professor of Optronic Systems Engineering."
  Bashir sank back a bit. That wasn't the
answer to the question why.
  "see' was O'Brien was still watching him, harder this
time. The smoke was making their eyes water. "Well
... somebody has to teach you officers the
difference between a warp matrix flux capacitor and a
self-sealing stern bolt...... "suppose so.
  Bashir no longer looked at O'Brien, but
concentrated on treating the wound, a convenient excuse
to avert his eyes.
  "Julian?"
  "Yes."
  "I should've told you sooner. I couldn't find the
words. It's just that Keiko-was "Please, Miles.
Let me take care of you" Bashir felt his
expression harden as he tried to supress his
emotions like a man.
  Tersely, unable to stop himself, he added,
  "While I still have the chance."
  A hard bolt slammed the ship from nearly dead
ahead.
  O'Brien winced hard, bleeding from an artery.
  "his is no good:" Bashir decided,
tightlipped. "I'd better get you to sickbay."
  "I'm a little busy right now," O'Brien
resisted.
  "IW'S an order."
  On the main deck, Ben Sisko had been only
half listening, sifting for important words, and he
caught the right ones. He cast his own words
over there without looking at the two officers. "You
beard him, Chief:" With a tone, O'Brien
moaned,
  "Yes, sir..
  at the same time as Nog reported,
  "Another Jem'Hadar to port!"
  "Dodge them:" SW-WILL reunered. Would Nog
be able to move fast enough?
  Could the slup wheel out of the way before that Breen
got them targeted?
  "Diva" auxiliary power to port gueldsl-
Worf quickly en ended.
  "Dax:" Sisko called, "we need some
support from our attack fighters:" Another Int
struck them from the wrong angle Breen.
  "Breen ship off the starboard aft!"
  The Breen ship wheeled up on a wing, seemed
to have them targeted, and then luridly exploded into a
ball of roll energy.
  Sisko gasped, astonished. Had the Romulans
come in?
  "Did we do that?" he asked. Of course, he
knew
  "Sir," Worf interrupted,
  "I am reading Cardassian firing
sequences in the Breen wreckage."
  On the heels of that, two Cardassian
vessels veered in and blasted furiously at the
Jem'Hadar pursuers, damaging one severely and
blowing the other from now to Christmas.
  Odo fingered the sensor panel. "Sir, the
Cardassiansthey're attacking the other Dominion
ships!"
  Turning forward, Ezri stared at the big screen.
"I think they've switched sides!"
  "Yes!" Nog shouted.
  Sisko cleared his throat of the raw chemical
smoke.
  "It couldn't have come at a better time. Come about and
head for the center of their lines. This is our chance
to punch through."
  Ezri frowned over her communications system.
"From what I can pick up, it has some ding to do with a
Cardassian city that was recently destroyed by the
Dominion."
  "Are they sending those message still' "I'm not
sure who's sending them"" Ezri said. "I'm
picking them up on Bajoran encoding."
  "Bajoran?"
  "Now it's switching to Starfleet
codes. Does that make sense?"
  "I don't know," Sisko said. "Seems like
somebody wants us to get the message as much as they
want the Cardassians to get it."
  Grim realization came into the control room.
  The Founder shuddered against her disease, but was more
troubled by what she saw on the screens. Reports
from space were changing in their tone, their results.
At her side was Thor Pran, the Breen general
crackling with great disturbance. At the monitor, a
suprised Weyom gave the report he could not
avoid.
  The ships are not responding to our hails , he
said.
  "comThe Cardassian fleet has turned against
us:" The Breen erupted into a violent hash of
noise.
  The Founder ignored his complmnt. "Have our forces
pull back and regroup at Cardassia Pdm:"
Weyoun turned to look at her. "But, Founder,
we'll be completely surrounded. What If we have
to fall backr "There'll be no faumg bael No
more innmng:, More raffling from the Breen.
  She waited until he flikhed his ranting
protest and avoided telling him what she
equals lly Mint of him and all his kind, but on this
issue she had to agree.
  "We should've rid ourselves of the Cardassins at the
first sign of rebellion. You're right ... it's
never too late to correct a mistake$7
To Weyotm she added, comI want the Cardassians
exterminated:" The Vorta blinked as if he
didn't quite understand.
  "All of them ... ?"
  "9be entire population:" "9Will's going
to take some fun... "Men I suggest you begin at
once$7 "Captain , Worf barked, the
Domunon forces are retreating to Cardassia
Prime!"
  A cheer broke out through the crew, briefly
setting aside their busy damage control and their
efforts to keep injured shipmates from dying if it could
at all be helped.
  "Sir, Admiral Ross and Chancellor
Martok would like to speak to you."
  Not entirely unexpected, though somewhat cheering.
  "I'm sure they would," Sisko huffed.
"Onscreen."
  The split screen appeared again, with the Klingon on
one side and Ross on the other. Ross
looked as if he'd been dragged through an engine
feet first. His bridge was a smoky mess and one
large piece of bufflmd material lay at an
angle behind the command chair.
  Martok's bridge was shattered too, but somehow for
Klingons that looked no mud. Martok himself seemed
charged with delight.
  "I never thought I'd say this!- Ross gasped,
  "Thank God for Cardassians!"
  "It's as I predicted:" Martok claimed.
"IW day is ours. I
  "Not yet it isn't:" Sisko warned.
  Ross seemed annoyed. "Ben, we've won a
great victory! We've driven the Dominion all
the way back to Cardassia Prime. We can throw
a blockade around the entire system and keep them
bottled up there mdeffnitely."
  "What if they don't surrendert' Sisko
pointed out.
  "What if they use that fun to rebuild their
fleett' Martok didn't give Ross a chance
to say why that somehow wouldn't work.
  "The captain has a point. The Dominion has
displayed an ability to build ships at an
impressive rate."
  "Gentlemen, do I have to remind you of our
casualtiesThat' Ross rasped.
  "We've lost a drd of our fleet."
  "And we must see to it"" Martok told him, "that
those soldiers did not die in vain."
  "Admiral:" Sisko offered, "if the
Cardassians are joining us, we have an
opportunity to put an end to this war once and for
all."
  Sisko wanted to sit down over a table and make
everyone calm down and pay attention. Ross had
spent a lot of years behind a desk, working with
theories instead of real losses, and today's losses
clearly shocked him. He would need time to absorb the
meaning of a fill-out fleet assault. Then he would
have to be talked out of this wound-licking mentality.
  "Admiral:" Sisko began, andM to be
temperate, "we have an opportunity here to put an
end to this war once and for all. We should seize the
moment:" "I agree," Martok said. "We must
move on to Cardassia Prime and do it now."
  Neither of them raised their voices. This wasn't the
time for shouting.
  Ins equals 4 they would have to count upon the hope that
Ross trusted them for their experience, the
fact that they had had more combined den in the field-4n
battle than he'd had in Starfleet altogether.
  Come on, admiral, I law you've got it in
yolk Give the hard order Ross wiped his bleeding
lip, paused, looked from one to the other on his own
split screen, and his stinging eyes.
  "All right, gentlemen," he said simply. "We
press on."
  Martok thumped his command chair. "My people win sing
songs about this moment!"
  Ross shook his head wearily, though he seemed
to correct a strength even he hadn't thought he
possessed.
  "Let's hope we're around to hear them."
  The transmission was cut off at the source. The
screen flipped back to a disturbing view of the
shattered wreckage from the last several hours of
unremitting siege.
  "All right, people"" Sisko said evenly, "you
heard the orders. Let's finish what we started."
  On Cardassia Prime, everything had changed in
an instant. Weyoun's blunder had rocketed around the
planet like shock waves rushing from pole to pole and
back again stronger. Whole regiments of
Cardassian amps were finding their way
flimugh the secret channels to the resistance.
Ekoor had opened a hundred veins of communication
that yesterday would have been suicide.
  Now they were rifled with eager voices, soldier and
civilian alike.
  The planet had had enough of the Dominion, its
Founders, its hive-headed Jem'Hadar, and its
ethereal spook Vorta.
  Damar huddled with Kira and Ekoor around last
minute preparations for their assault on Dominion
Headquarters.
  Their forces had swelled mightily in the last two
hours.
  Just indus cellar were five more Cardassim,
meluggling two soldiers and den civilians, armed
and ready Ekoor troubled over the schematic Damar
had drawn of the Headquarters" re tenor.
  "According to this map"" he said, "it's a long way from
the cargo door to the briefing room:" comM could be
a problem:" Kira agreed. The explosion's going
to alert everyone in the building?
  "M I know Weyoun," Damar told them,
Itherelff only be a handfid of Jem'Hadar on
duty. He'll have sent the rest to hunt down
Cardassian"" The rest of his sentence was
stripped away in the sound of an explosion, a
resonant boom that came down d equals gh the
walls. The floor trembled.
  Kira tensed. '9More the helm?"
  Garak rushed down the sin and nearly fell. The
Jem'Hadar! They're leveling the city, building
by building!"
  comWe have to go," Kira said, "tight now!"
  Damar stayed any action with a temperate hand.
  "Once we get inside Dominion
Headquarters, we stop for nothing and no one until
we ca pam the Changehng.
  For Cardassia!"
  "For sia!"
  Kira Nerys watched as all the Cardassians
dodged from the ceflu, fired by the oppormmty to take
back their planetary pride, led by the rogue
officer who had become a legend.
  Damar? A legend? How things could change.
  She waited unttl they were all out of the room.
She wanted to make sure nothing had been forgotten
which they could use. They wouldn't be coming back to this
place.
  As she put her foot on the bottom step, she
cast one gaze to the least likely and most
disturbing corner, the place where Nfila's body
had been tucked, wrapped in a tarp There, she
paused. In the shadow, Garak stood mute over
Mila's clumsy form.
  Kira thought he'd gone up with the mdiers. When
Mila had been Rifled, Garak had shown only
one moment of horror before returning to his typical
self, casting off trouble like shedding rain from his
shoulders. Now Kira could see the lie. And the
truth.
  "Garak?" she began gently.
  "I'm coming, Commander," he said, as If expecting
her to speak up.
  "I'm just saying goodbye."
  Though she tried to leave, assuming he would want
to be alone, Kira responded instead to an inner
alarm that told her he needed something other than
solitude. They'd known each other a very long time,
had never re ally been friends, but had fought side
by side long enough to have a certain bond of understanding that she
felt very powerfully now Here was Garak, as blithe and
lubricated a salesman-spy as the universe could
boast, this time with all his masks down. Kira
understood that right now she was seeing the real Garat a
mgn displaced for years from the home he had
once served honestly and vnth great energy Today he was
home agaui, and about to beam thrown out.
  "During all these years of exile"" he began
without looking at her,
  "I
  used to imagine what it would be like to come home,
maybe even to Hve in this house once again with
Mila. But now ... she'd dead. And this house is
about to become nothing more than a pile of rubble.
  My Cardassia is gone."
  Kira offered a sympathetic pause. "Then
fight for a new Cardassia:" Another explosion
non bled closer than the one before. The walls
rattled. Pebbles and dust fell upon the tarp covering
the old Cardassian woman.
  Gareaak watched the dust settle into the tarp'
folds.
  "I have a better reason to fight, Commander," he
said.
  Revenge. I
  "But Thor Pran, I have come to depend on having
you here at my side. Your sage military advice
has proven invaluable to me and to the Dominion' "
The Founder struggled to hold her form, despite the
craclang of her skin like old paint and the
intense pain it caused throughout her body.
  Everyone around her saw the terrible plague eating
her humanoid form on the outside. What they could not
see was that all her form, inside as well, was made
now of sharp-edged flakes, flmdft chips each
cutting into the other moment by moment.
  The staticity voice of the Breen general had
grown shrill as he protested all her arguments.
He was growing and of her. Or perhaps he was coming
to suspect that she was keeping him here in order to hold
influence over him or eventually to hold him
hostage.... No matter. He was only a small
cog in the wheels of her plan. If she could no
longer deceive him, it was little loss.
  "Very well she accepted. "If you feel that the
sen120 ousness of the situation demands your presence on
the front lines, I will not stand in your way. In
fact, knowing that you will be leading our troops
into battle is very reassuring."
  He blathered another burst at her, then bowed and
swung for the door, leading his Breen officers with him.
  Near the monitor, Weyoun had been watching in
silence. Now he spoke.
  "I stiff can't help but wonder."
  The Founder turned to him. "Wonder
whatt" "Tint's under that helmet."
  She moved in agony to the monitor. "A braver
man den you. Though I do find the shrillness of his
voice tiresome."
  Feeling a wave of ghastly weakness roll through her
limbs, she turned away from him. Holding this shape
was almost as agomzmg as mowing she could no longer
dissolve from it. Somehow this illness trapped her between
nighmm and tonw. She could not alter, yet holding
solidity took constant effort. What would she
become if she gave up? If her form took its
own route?
  She tried to walk away, to go to her desk, when
her legs folded beneath her and gravity came to puff
her down. Would she puddle on the floor, a mass
of cracided hqtnd? Would she crash into a mdllon
bits like shattering glass?
  Weyoun's grip wrapped around her and held her
on her feet
  "Founder!
  What's wrong?"
  What an idiot.
  "I'm dying, that's what's wrong"" she told
him, disinclined to spare whatever he had for feelings.
  "Perhaps if you were to rest for a while ...
revert to your natural state-was "I only wish I
could. But I haven't be able to change form in weeks.
  Ironic ... isn't it? That I might die as
a solid. . . ."
  "You , re not going to die:" Weyoun
desperately insisted. "You're a god!"
  "Gods are not always immortal:" she said. Was
she speaking to a child in fact? Very weer. "You must see
to it that the Dominion does not die with me.
Promise me time . I As he shifted position,
his pale face and colorless eyes took on a
genuine fear. "But Founder, what can I, a there
Vorta ... was Her hand, as if disembodied and
possessing a win of its own, raced to his throat.
The full power of her own will now took over,
squeezing the life out of bun that the Founders in their
wisdom had given him in the first place.
  "Promise me!" she growled.
  Fighting for breath, Weyoun attempted a
terrified nod.
  "I promise ... gladly."
  Even she was unsure what she was asking of him,
how he would protect the Dominion without her in this
quadrant to guide him. The Vorta needed
guides.
  "My loyal Weyoun:" she went on, "the
only solid I've ever trusted."
  Overwhelmed, Weyoun managed to bow even in this
awkward position. "I live only to serve you:"
"And you've served me well. I don't mind dying
... what's painful is knowing that my entire race
is dying of the same illness and there's nothing I can do
about it:" "I would give my life to save yours""
Weyoun said with great emotional trouble.
  comI only wish it were that easy."
  Her hand-she must un clamp it. This took a great
effort though she finally gave him back his existence.
  "Your loyalty is comforting:" she said. She
pWI-ED out of his goodp.
  Somehow her strength had been renewed for now, through
the desperation of her concern for her fellow
Changelings.
  Weyoun let her go without frit-their attendance.
He rubbed his throat He seemed surprised.
  Was he also horrored? She thought he should be.
  She thought he'd better be.
  The cap of the Kai spun into the abyss, taking with
it all the symbolic devotion of a lifefim's
meditation and trial.
  Dukat watched the little cap whirl away
into the fire and be consumeggL How completely
wondrous-a full KaLike shedding the shackles of the
Prophets, casting her lot with the anti prophet
Pah-wraiths, joining with Dukat in his cause
to finally come out from under the pall of some alien power At
least dus power was native to Bajor, native to the
Alpha Quadrant. A much better plaform from which
to launch any plan, he believed.
  Nearby, Kai Wren crossed the final path to the
rejection of everything she had previously embraced.
  Solemnly, she removed her ceremonial
cloak and pitched it over the edge of the abyss into the
charged flames. With a gasp of consumption, the robe
disappeared.
  Now she stood only in a simple penitent's
smock.
  Even the pin in her hair was plucked away. Her
hair fell about her shoulders. She looked suddenly
free, even younger.
  "Finally," she breathed,
  "I rid myself of the Prophets!
  Once and for all! And shed a lifefim of
hypocrisy!"
  With the flames blazing behind her, she turned
to Dukat and in a shock of boldness
clasped him passionately and drove him into a long
exuberate kiss.
  Stunned and invigorated, Dukat gazed at her.
"I've never seen you so radiant."
  "I feel like a young woman!" she crowed.
"Waiting for my lover to come and sweep me off my
feet!"
  "Do you give yourself willingly to the
Pah-wraiths?" he asked, just to make sure she
wasn't consumed by something that might distract her from their
reason to be here.
  "With all my heart!"
  "Then ... call to them."
  Winn, no longer a Kai, broke the embrace.
"Bring me the book!"
  A shiver of hesitation ran through Dukat. To touch
the book? The thing that had last blinded him when he
dared invade its private and sacred envelope?
  "I said bring it!" Wren insisted.
  This last step had to be taken. Dukat realized
that if Winn were to give up all her securities,
he would have to show a willingness to do the same. Surely
the Pah-wraiths would smile on him and not allow the
book to hurt him a second time, to defy their healing
powers.
  He bent before the book, muttered an inaudible
apology just in case.
  So many unexplained powers in the universe-who was
he to suggest any might be silly? If the book
itself had no particular power, surely something attached
to it did and the book was the wand which channeled it, for he
had felt the power himself.
  He picked up the enormous bindings. He offered
it to Wren with a hint of minor ceremony.
  She opened the book, as Dukat cradled it against
his chest. Standing at the brink of the flaming abyss,
  "Wren began to chant again, slowly at first, then more
rapidly.
  MEEK RAK DORRAH PAH-WRAN
YELIM CHA ONO KOSST AMOJAN . . .
  SHAY TA-HELTER-RAH NO'VALA DE
RAM
  AKA'LU FAR CHE ...
  And the flames grew lusher and hotter And the light
grew bright with joy.
  "Sisko to Bashir. Report:" It had taken
him a few minutes to ask for this one.
  He didn't mind getting reports from
O'Brien about the engmeeing status or from Ezn about
hull damage or from Worf about the
tactical situation, but asiang Bashir to break
off from tending the wounded below decks just to report on
how many crew mates they'd lost-that was a hard one and
it always would be, Emissary or not.
  Sisko felt eminently human as Basher's
voice came up through the comm.
  "Three dead, eight wounded, four of them
critically."
  The doctor sounded strained in part, and somehow
relieved in another.
  That made sense. For a major battle, they'd
been lucky.
  "I need every able-bodied crewman at his post:"
Sisko challenged.
  "I won't keep anyone here a second longer
than I have to," Bashir promised.
  Hopeful, at least. No one was fling to talk him
out of pursmng the retreating Domunon forces and
putting an end to this once and for all.
  Even Ross hadn't contacted him. The decision
had been y-"every.
  Now they had to hye with it.
  "She did pretty well for a first date, don't
you think, Captain?" Nog asked as he nursed his
helm.
  "I do, Ensign:" Sisko offered.
  He didn't stay near the helm, but instead moved
to Worf and Ezri.
  "The phaser banks have been fully recharged:"
Worf said, with a measure of satisfaction that proved
Sisko's assessment that they'd been lucky.
  "But we're down to only forty-five quantum
torpedoes:" "MI-LIKE have to do , Sisko said. The
Ezri he offered,
  "How're you holding up, old man?" "All
things considered, I'd rather be on Risg" she said with a
little smile.
  "That makes two of us."
  He returned her smile, wondering how much comfort
old Curzon Dax's life force could offer a young
girl who had never been in a battle situation.
  So far, so good. And that's what worried him.
  He crossed past the repair crews and tried not
to get and attention with his presence. On the other side
of the bridge Odo was gazing uneasily into a
monitor. Sisko didn't ask-The shape shifter
would speak up if there were anything to say.
  For a moment Odo re reamed siaent, but then
voiced a genuine concern.
  "Have you seen the reports from
Cardassia? The Dominion has begun destroying
Cardassian cities ... millions of people are
dying. They're being dragged out of their homes and
executed:" "Are the Cardassians fighting
backt" "They're andong to. But what chance to do
civilians have against the Jem'Hadar?"
  "I wouldn't count them out just yet, Constable,
Sisko offered, "not with Kira down there:" Odo
smiled reservedly, apparently taking the compliment as
it was meant, trying to find some comfort in it that Kira was
indeed still alive, that there might be a future for them
yet somehow, somewhere.
  The bird and the fish might find a place where both
could live, If only this single great struggle could be
won.
  "Captain:" Nog interrupted. "We're
approaching the Cardassian defense perimeter."
  "llt's see what they have waiting for us. Sisko
stepped down to the conumd area. "Onscreen."
  The ship's company bolted to action, squaring away
the wreckage on the deck, clearing the walkways,
taking positions. If anything wasn't repaired
by now, time was up. 'they'd have to make do with whatever they
had working. Positions of the dead and wounded would have to be
covered. That was up to each individual
department head and not Sisko's problem any more. He
drove that concern from his mind as others came to clutter
it.
  Just then O'Brien stepped back onto the
bridge, reading a padd as he approached the command
area to make a reporl
  "I've cross-polarized the phaser emitters,
which should give us ?"' Sisko didn't respond.
No one did. O'Brien stopped tafldng as he
looked up.
  Together they all stared at the mi age on the forward
screen.
  Before them, a virtually impenetrable wall of
Breen and Jem'Hadar fighting ships, defense
installations, and weapons platforms orbited
Cardassia Prime, a bristling net of
destructive power, formidable and terrifying.
Knitted like barbed wire, all enemy forces had
taken an organized positiormothing seemed random
at all this time. This wasn't just a formation. It was a
nearly solid wall of killing energy waiting to be
released.
  On the main fleet channel, a broadcast
came d equals gh which Ezri did not bother
to announce.
  "This is Aandrural Ross to all ships. We
all know what we have to do.
  All forces form up for Operation Fumi
,ftstwlt."
  Sisko turned to his crew, putting the horror
on the for ward screen behind him as he met all their
eyes.
  "You heard the man. Let's do it."
  This was what the last two years of war had been
building up to, what inevitably came if neither
side of a conflict fell soon enough. This would be the
one decisive upheaval, sink or swim, and
needier side was thinking about tomorrow. There would be no
holding back any more.
  Tomorrow, there would be nothing left with which to try again. The
decision would be made today he (i right now.
  The Defiant led the way, as the strongest tight
maneuver vessel left in the Federation fleet.
At their sides, Klingon and Romulan fighter
wings preandsed forward boldly. Backing them up were the
remaining starships, support tenders, and any other
vessel that could still hit and take some. The Allied
Fleet was depleted by a (i".
  That figure did not change Sisko's
now-or-never commitment or dull his
detemnation.
  "Hold your fire until proximity distance ,
he ordered.
  "We won't get any second chances."
  "All systems ready, sir," O'Brien
reported.
  Sisko understood what that meant. All systems
were up to their top ability for the moment, even if that
only meant (i" percent. He had to be ready
to lose things much earlier than in the first-wave
assault.
  That meant adjusting his g process and his orders
to compensate and improvise.
  On the planet below, countless thousands of
civilians were absorbing the brutality of the Vorta
and Jem'Hadar extemnation teams. An act of
desperation on the part of the Donfifflon, yes, but there
was also the taste of bitter vengeance in such wholesale
slaughter. On the planet, a horror was playing
out.
  In space, the second horror now erupted.
  The enemy ships did not come out to meet them, but
forced the Allied Fleet to spread itself thin and
circle as much of the planet as possible. It was a very
big planet indeed. Even seven hundred
slups couldn't cover so much area effectively, and
within moments the sheer firepower of engaged vessels
lit up space as if the Cardassian home world
had become a nova suddenly torched in the night
Defiant roared in slashing.
  Nothing was held back. No one was in the mood for
restraint. The bridge exploded into an
unrecognizable wreck and no one cared. Sisko
barked orders and authorizations, letting them free from
anything that might make them hold bael The ever
balanced emgle of life, risk, and cause,
generally re clang on its tip, finally turned and
slammed down upon its base. Die If we must, but
make it cost. Our lives for something bigger, much
better, and everlasting-posession of our own quadrant
for everyone who comes after us. That is the code of the
military branch of any civihzatiaLike and today it
was the banner of the Defumt.
  She spun across the bridge from port to starboard as
a Breen backer got its teeth into them on a
blunt pass.
  Sisko took a dozen slivers in the arm,
brushed them off in a patch of blood, and dodged from
position to position, doing dimes faster den he could
minin them done.
  There weren't enough people left standing on the bridge
to follow his orders anyway. All he needed was
himself, Nog at the helm, Ezri, Worf, and
O'Brien. The rest would have to be let go.
  Every time a Breen or Jem'Hadar vessel
veered into range, Sisko snapped,
  "Fire!" He didn't even wait for the targeting
computers.
  Worf gave up andong to aim by sensor and simply
blanketed wedges of phaser fire into space,
hitting somedftg almost every time, even if once or
twice they grazed another Starfleet ship or an
ally.
  They were getting their share of friendly fire-at was
unavoidable. It seemed that everyone accepted the chance
of getting killed by a neighbor. With phaser and
disrupter fire crisscrossing intervening space, there
was no way to avoid getting struck by somebody's some
  (i"9
  There was no sense or order, no coordination to the
attack. In fact, that was an advantage. With
all the wild hearted Starfleet, Klingon, and
Romulan captains bringing to bear their decidedly
individual talents and experiences against the
programmed uniformity of the Jem'Hadar and
Breen, the Allied forces were almost un possible
to predict and wiling to be crazy.
  "Worf, port side! Open fire! Ezri,
compensate for the lateral shift!
  O'Brien, don't move!"
  He kept the orders running for each consecutive
surge, keeping off the bow of this enemy ship, hugging
the tail of that one, shooting, dodging, twisting,
ducking. His arms and shoulders quivered with energy as his
body charged to the task. He felt none of the wounds
he knew had been inflicted upon him. Not a
bruise ached, not a scratch burned. They were there,
but he couldn't feel them. That made him feel
immortal, invincible.
  The fact that he could force by sheer will the acrid
chemical smoke through his lungs as it poured from the
ship's damaged bridge conduits made him even more
powerful.
  ,.CeaVty'ill "Coming, Odo:" Sisko
made his way to the other side of the bridge, where
Odo hovered over a flickering monitor.
  "I may have found something interesting"" the constable
said. "So far, Mr. Worf has managed to score
direct hits on eleven Breen ships, but only
d equals of those suffered significant
damage:" At tactical, Worf shot them an
insulted glower. "It's difficult to penetrate their
shields. They appear to use stochastic field
emitters."
  Odo peered past Sisko's shoulder to the
Klingon. comI'm not questioning your abilities,
Commander."
  "Tint are you getting at, Constable?" Sisko
prodded.
  "All three ships that suffered damage were struck
in the aft impulse manifold."
  Halleluja... Sisko peered into the screen,
making sure there hadn't been some nussed de tad that
could explain better There wasn't.
  "Constable, you may have found a chink in their armor.
Helm find us a Breen ship. Mr. Worf,
target-was "I'll target their aft impulse
manifold:" Worf seemed both insulted and
victorious. Not a bad combination for a KH-NGON.
  Defiant veered hard over and whined in pursuit
of the nearest Breen, locking onto its prey in
seconds.
  "Pull in tight, Ensign , Sisko
directed. ""W more degrees port .
  .
  . that's better ... z-minus two ... fire!"
  The weapons howled. Streaks of energy lanced through
the Cardassian ionosphere like shemg the top off a
cake, and drilled the back of the Breen ship. A
few se con (i FFFFWOOSH at buterated.
  Odo looked at Sisko, who looked at
Worf, who was ahMy looking at Ezri, who
didn't have a clue what all this meant.
  Well, maybe she had a clue, but she hadn't
quite ths filled it out of her memories yet.
  "Dax Sisko began, "send a priority-one
message to all ships. L4et 'em know what we
found!"
  Now she got it.
  There it was-the cargo door. Dominion
Headquarters" rare weak spot.
  "No guards" Kira observed. Damar, she
hated to admit, had covered this one pretty well.
"Our own private little Achilles' hell."
  "Heel" Garak corrected.
  "No, I think I got it right the first time."
  Ekoor squatted near her. "Where are the guard
still' "Like the commander said"" Garak explained,
"they're probably off killing Cardassians."
  "Iben this may be easier than we
thought"" Damar said from the other end of the assault
team.
  "i wouldn't count on that" Kira warned.
  "We have a problem"" Garak pointed out.
  Only one?"
  "But I'm afraid it's a rather large one. That
door is made of neutronium."
  Kira felt her shoulders sag. "Then the
explosives we brought aren't going to make a dent
in it:" Garak's wide eyes rolled. "Now you
see the problem:" comWt do we do?" Ekoor
asked.
  "I don't know," Damar said, "but I'm done
hiding in basements:" Garak rewarded him with a
laugh.
  "I fail to see what's so funny, Garak:"
Damar shot back.
  "Isn't it obvious? Here we are, willing
to storm the casde and sacrifice our lives in a
noble effort to slay the Dominion beast in its lair
... and we can't even get inside the gate!
  "We could mock on the front door," Kira
suggested, and ask the Jem'Hadar to let us at
comM send the female shapeshffter out to us" Damar
grumbled.
  "@wehever's more convenient They looked at each
other, and spontaneously laughed. It was kind of
funny, night in the middle of this big ugliness.
  comWeilea7 Garak reminded, "we do have to dill
of something... :" Kira nodded, but knew she
couldn't honestly bl equals Damar for the murderous
gleam in his eyes. She'd spent all her
childhood snealang arggxmd, biding, luriang,
becoming an expert at saw and-fly assault
missions, guerrilla tactics, and resistance
thiniking-and she was the first to adnnt that a person could
become absolutely excellent at it, but could never
learn to love it. Damar had spent his life as a
Cardassian military officer. This running and
hiding was new to him and somehow degrading.
  "We can't stay here much longer," she told them.
Now that they knew their explosives wouldn't scratch
this door, they had to come up with another plan.
  "What if I were to give myself up as a
prisoner?"
  Damar offered.
  "They'd kill you on sight," Kira canceled.
  "And us along with you," Garak concurred.
  She started to turn away, to find a route away
from the Headquarters, or another less
daunting portcullis to break through, when the cargo
door abruptly slid open with a terrific
screech. She ducked back into the shadows beside
Garak. Damar and the others pressed into an
opposite hiding place.
  Together they watched as three Cardassian
soldiers emerged from the Headquarters. In handcuffs!
  "I know those Cardassians:" Damar whispered.
  "They'the part of Weyoun's security force!"
  What a strange sight-Jem'Hadar pushing
Cardassians in irons!
  Kira pressed closer to the wall and squinted.
Yes, here came two Jem'Hadar, pushing the
Cardassians out at gunpoint. Their rifles had
bayonets fixed. Why?
  The question answered itself after the Cardassians made
a few steps into the alley. The Jem'Hadar offered
no pause for thought or confession, nor did they even
allow their prisoners to turn and face death
head-on.
  They simply moved forward and drove their
bayonets into two of the Cardassians, then shared the
third, spearing the helpless natives through the spines.
  Damar leaped to his feet, enraged. "No!"
  "Damar!" Kira tried to grab for him,
but he was gone, rushing into the alley, blanketing the
Jem'Hadar with wildfire. The two Jem'Hadar
went down hard.
  Damar rushed past them and stormed the open cargo
door. But the door was starting to close! And their
presence here had been compromLW.
  comCharge!" Kira shouted, and raMore after hill-
L Garak, Ekoor, and the other Cardassian
conspirators vaulted from their hideout and clambered
after her Nothing left to hide. She was relieved
to hear their boot steps hammering behind her, that they
hadn't had a change of heart at the sight of the
cold hearted slaughter exacted on their own people by the
Jem'Hadar Kira and Garak, leading the group behind
Damar opened fire, blowing aside the shocked
Jem'Hadar who appeared here and there m his path.
The Jem'Hadar were built for space and clumsy
on land, a at which very swiftly washed in the
resistance's favor.
  They broke inside the cargo door, into a bnghdy
lit loading dock, with Damar boldly leading the
way He was driven to blind fury, and this was en
heartening for all who followed hum They would get
m! They would turn the tables here somehow!
  They would blast their way past the half
dozen Jem'Hadars who apffft m front of them!
  comHab!" Damar shouted insanely, and opened
fire.
  The Jem'Hadar were instantly aWill by his shout and
opened fire themselves, all aiming at the single target
who had drawn their shots. In an amazing flurry,
Damar took combined bolts to the chest.
  Driven backward, he slammed into a wall, his
face plastered with shock and rage.
  The resistance fighters spread behind boxes of
cargo, clearly stunned.
  Kira covered Garak as he bent at Damar's
side, his face crumpled and fearful.
  "He's dead:" Garak murmured.
  She barely heard him. The news showed clearly
in his astonished face.
  Something happened to her. He recognized it.
All Damar's rage, insult, devotion, and
pride tmnsfeffed itself, like a soul changing bodies.
  He'd gotten them inside and now it was up to her.
She was suddenly charged with the drive to take back
Cardassia as if it were her own.
  How was that for a story to tell!
  She spun on the hiding resistance fighters.
"Get up!
  Remember Damar's orders! We stop for no
one!"
  Shuddering with emotion, Garak rose to his feet,
daring the fire from the Jem'Hadar, and turned to his
fellow Cardassians.
  "For Cardassia!"
  Ekoor burst from hiding. "For Cardassia!
  Following the supercharged Ekoor, Kira and the
others easily outmaneuvered the Jem'Hadar
guards-and Damar had been right, there weren't as many as
there should have been-freely blowing them to piles of flesh
and plastic tubing all the way through the Headquarters.
  None of this budding was familiar, and Kim found it
chsconcerting to race through unfamdw corridors with
such directioned purpos at videndy Ekoor did
know his way, for he led them at full tilt without so
much as a pause at a corner or a hesitation
to remember the right way.
  Alarms began to ring. Security alert. They were
aware of the breach now. She knew the sound of that. So
much for subtlety.
  She kept firing, trying not to hit Ekoor, who
continued to roar through the corridors, blind with h". He
was firing wildly, hitting every Jem'Hadar he
spied. At that imprudent rate his weapon
would be drained any second now and he'd be
helpless.
  "Get the explosives, Garak! Ekoor!" she
called.
  "Come forward here, get readw" "We're ready"
Garak called. In both hands he held not his
weapon, which he had handed to Ekoor, but the
  "Tins door!" Ekoor shouted.
  "This one! Hurry!"
  Ekoor fired foolishly at the door, causing
a dangerous backwash of energy from the shielded
panel.
  "Stop!" Kira shouted. "Garak, the grenades!
  "Colmgff91 "rake cover!"
  They spread out. Two seconds, and a concussion
blast nearly took them heads off.
  Kira shook away the blur and dove through the
smoking wreckage where a moment ago there had been a
door She opened fire even before she had a target,
and felt the hot buzz of shots whizzing by her. In a
cloud she saw one Jem'Hadar fall. Another,
though, got his weapon up and fired, killing one of
Ekoor's Cardassian recruits. Following the
trajectory she thought she'd seen, Kira fired
again. The second Jem'Hadar crashed to the
floor.
  She plowed into the briefing room and leveled her
weapon joyously at the flaky face of the female
shape shifter who had so often compromised Odo.
Ah!
  "Contact the Jem'Hadar fleet!" Kira
ordered. Order it to cease fire!"
  Garak stepped forward, again holding his weapon and
aming now at Weyoun's astonished glare. And order
the Jem'Hadar troops on Cardassia to lay
down their arms immediately."
  comHe'Do do no such thing" the female shapeshffter
said.
  At her words, the Vorta duuffly regained
control over his exprmion.
  Kira moved to a position allowing her to cover
both Weyoun and the shape shifter in one shot. -"
check the monitors. What's going on in space?"
  Garak was as comfortable with the Cardassian mechaines
as he had become with the workmp on Starfleet ships.
Instantly he had the readouts displayed on den
monitors.
  "Tm not reading any Breen ships in close
proximity to the planetea7 be said. @w's a nil
of Breen exhaust leading out of the solar
sysm Looks like the Allies have them in
reandW'Cowards" the female shapeshdter commented
bitterly. "Fn-still the Cardassians, now the
Breen. This proves what I've said all
along-whits are not to be trusted:" The
Jem'Hadar haven't abandoned us," Weyoun
called.
  "They'll fight to the deft."
  "There aren't enough of them on the planet:" Kira
told him. "We're here, aren't we?"
  Weyoun glared coldly at her. "Ten me ...
where is my old friend Damar?"
  "Damar's dead:" Garak announced before Kira
could stop him from speaking up and tipping any hand they
had in their favor.
  "A Pity," Weyoun said.
  Garak's bitterness got the better of him. "He
died helping to free Cardassia."
  The Vorta tilted his head. "What's left of
it."
  Garak's anger boiled over. He raised his
weapon to Weyoun and fired at point-blank
range. This time Kira had no inclination to stop him
at all.
  As her loyal follower collapsed to the
floor, the shape shifter regarded him unemotionally.
"I wish you hadn't done that. That was Weyoun's last
clone."
  Garak sneered,
  "I was hoping you'd say that."
  Kira stepped forward. "The war's over. You've
lost
  "Have I?" the shape shifter challenged. "I think
you'll find the Jem'Hadar don't agree with that
assessment.
  They'll continue to fight to the last man."
  "What will that accomplish?"
  "Isn't it obvious? To make sure your
'victory" costs you as many ships and as many Eves
as possible. When the next Dominion fleet comes
through the wormhole, there'll be no one-not the Federation,
not the Klingons, not the Romulans-who'Do be strong
enough to stop us:" Kira pressed down a shudder at the
prospect. "That's an empty threat."
  Clearly weakened by her sickness, the shape shifter
sank into her chair. She seemed too tired
to argue. She leaned back in her chair, her
demolished face strangely content
  "Is it? ... We'Do see she uttered,
  "In the mean fun, more of your ships will be
destroyed, and your casualty lists will confim to grow.
By the time it's over, you will have lost so many ships, so
many lives ... that your victory will taste as bitter
as defeat."
  comWe'll Imuch a d equals compronged
anackccful Admiral Ross exPlained- comM
Romulans and our new Cardassian allies will
engage the Jem'Hadar forcer,. The Khngonr, Will
target the Breen, and the Federation will take on the
orbital weapons piatfomis. Any questionsr
Only one question slapped back and forth in Ben
Sisko's mind, like tide lmocldng on rocks.
'y" do wegor comAs soon as everyone's in
positioncc'It will be a glorious battle , I
think clumed on his half of the split screen.
  "But a cosily one" Ross said unhappily.
  Project our casualty figures could be as ingh
as forty Percent. And God knows how much ('uglier
d%"...Il go once we send in our ground forces,"
  FeadWill that Ross might be talking himself out of this
offensive, Sisko quickly said, comM Dominion's
beaten and they know it. But they're going to make us pay
for every kilometer of that planet:, He hoped his tone
commwucated that he was w," to pay, and to take out of the
enemy form every pound of flesh they exacted from
his own side.
  "Yes, they will," Ross said, then did not make
any further complaints or voice any doubts.
"Godspeed:" he added.
  Chancellor Martok wrapped up their session in
what might be the last word they would ever hear from each
other.
  "Qa' Vla!
  in the flaming cavern, waiting for their great reward,
Dukat and Winn joyously poured wine from a flask
into a ceremonial goblet. Dukat watched the dark
liquid flow and thought of Federation blood.
  "What is it?" he asked, still holding the Kosst
Amojan.
  191/2's?" Winn raised the goblet. IW-IS
the most important part of the ceremony' " She
held the goblet high above her and chanted ...
  TARNA PU-ONO ULL-KESS PAH-RAN
LANO KALA BO'SHAR LANU. . . .
  she lowered the goblet, preparing to drink, and as the
warm brass touched her lips she stopped and turned
instead to Dukat.
  "After you:" she offered, beaming at him.
  Gently Dukat set the book down, quite firmly
glad to be rid of it, and bowed before her.
"I'm horrored."
  The wine was sweet and warm, with an exotic
pungence that coiled its way down his throat and
seemed to effervesce. He had never tasted anything like
it and suspected it had been part of the Kai's
private cellar for many Years. Cefully this was a
special enough occasion ... "Now you've he offered .
  Winn smiled, took the goblet, and smelled the
wine indulgently.
  Rather than drink it, though, she leered at him and
Pout the remaining liquid to the bubbling cavern
wall.
  It sizzled in the heat from the flaming abyss.
  Dukat s'Will back from her Why would she re rim
to share the sacrament?
  Raw pain bolted through his intestines. The wine
burned its way deeper and deeper into his body.
He choked, nearly heaved, but nothing came up.
Reaching fOr Wren, seeking support, Dukat
slipped for wad and fell to his lmees. Shock
gripped his throat. He could no longer stand!
  Winn backed away from hmi, refusing him any
support Why did she look like that? What was that
glow in her eyes?
  "Who he gagged.
  Wren offered her arms, but not to him.
  comBecause.- she began, speaking loudly, We
Pahwraiths demand a sacrifice! Someone worthy
of them ... devious and cruel ... twisted and
corrupt ... whose soul lusts only for power and
vengeance!
  "Who better. . . than you!" She smiled.
  As Dukat's insides began to wither, he stared in
horror at her joy and nt, the pure love and
unmatched hat" jousda in her face.
  "Men's why you were sent to me", she told him, so
that darkness could feed on darkness, hate on hate!
Your death will be the key that brings forth the Restoration
of the Pah-wraiths!"
  The hot ground came up and embraced him. He
tumbled onto his bael Towering over her Wan's form
seemed enormous, elongated, stretching ingher and
higher into the vaulted flames which lit her wide
face.
  He reached for her The fires rose tngher.
I-hs hands burned, withered to black, blew
to cinders. As a scaring curtain closed slowly around
his vision, Dukat saw d equals gh his
paralysis the last moments of sacrifice, and heard
the last words of the depraved life he had so
abused comI offer you tills life for your nourishment!
This martyour to feed your hunger!
  May it fuel the fires that will set you free!
Kosst Amojan! I am yours! Now and forever! Now
and forever! Now and forever... now and forever ... forever..
  Odo held his silence with great difficulty, as
he watched Kira Nerys make her report on the
view screen to Captain Sisko. What loam it
was to keep his emotions in check! She was alive, she
was alive ... the bird and the fish-was there a place
for them to five together?
  "I'm very glad to find you in one piece,
Commander," Sisko was saying to her.
  "Very gladcc"...Odo murmured.
  He hadn't thought he'd spoken very loudly, but
Kira looked at him and seemed relieved to see
him clean of the Changeling disease. Her kind smile
embolded him, and he smiled back.
  The ship rocked from another hit-yes, they were still in
the middle of the battle, but somehow it seemed less
consequential now that he knew Kira was alive and
in charge of Dominion Headquarters.
  "What's your statu still' Sisko asked.
  Kira shagged meagerly. "Only fl of us made
it to the briefing room."
  "What about Damar?" Odo asked.
  "He's dead:" Sensing the subject changing,
Sisko changed it bael
  "Is your position secure?"
  "I don't uMore the Jem'Hadar will attack.
They won't risk endangering the Founder. She's in
pretty bad shape ... she won't speak to anyone
... just sits at her desk, deteriorating:" At
tactical Worf spoke for the first time. "If she
dies before ordering the Jem'Hadar
to surrender-"They'll fight to the last man:"
Sisko finished.
  comThere's another problem:" Kira offered
  "When the Jem'Hadar w" what's happened,
they'Do storm the building. I@y'll try to rescue
their "god."
  "We'll beam you out of there:" At the e g
console, O'Brien MM from where Bashir was still
clutching his shoulder wound.
  "I'm not sure that's a good idea, sir. I've
locked onto and biosignatures, and according to these
readings the Changeling won't survive the tdp:"
"I agree," the doctor said, looking at
O'Brien's monitor. "Her morphogenic
matrix is too unstable:" Odo stepped
to the captain's side. "Sir at tain, I'd like
to beam down as well I Sisko watched the screen.
"I understand you want to help Kim buWill
  "R's not andW Not all that. "I want to talk
to the Founder. I might be able to reason with her."
  "You haven't had much success reasoning with her in
the past," the captain rightly reminded him,
courteously holding back the fact that, actually,
Odo's attempts had turned out to be downright
disasters.
  "I'd still like to try." He refrained from pointing out
that things had changed-that the female was dying, which would
alter anybody's outlook, and that he had fliffigs
in mind which Sisko would not find particularly comforting.
  The ship shook again, saving him from having
to explain.
  Instead he quickly added,
  "IM of the lives it might save."
  "Point taken , Sisko said. "Good luck,
Constable' Sisko shrugged, not about to be put off at
this late hour. "Conmmder, tell the Founder that Odo
would like to pay her a visit."
  "the more, the merrier," Kira accepted.
  The ship re fled again, then pitched forward.
Another hit. The Jem'Hadar weren't
giving up. In dismay Odo watched as the comm screen
cut off the view of Kira and went again to the view of
space, showing relentless Jem'Hadar ships
sweeping around them at all angles.
  Sisko turned to Ezri. "Contact Admiral
Ross and tell him we need to secure that
facility."
  "I'm on it:" she responded.
  Odo hurried to the transporter room,
collecting six Starfleet security guards on his
way through the ship and given the casualties and the action
still going on, it wasn't easy to get the department
heads to give up man 148 power. Six guards with
phaser rifles would be sufficient to guard the
facility until more could be available.
  "We'll have to beam down in two waves, sir,"
Ensign Bremerton told him as they crowded into the
Defiant's little importer room. "Systems are
damaged and we don't want an overload:" comVery
well , Odo accepted, and started for the pad.
  comSin" The ensign stopped him by stepping up there
first, having the common sense not to actually touch hint
  "With your permission, sir, I think dure guards
should go down first, and secure the situation before you have to go
down.
  Odo surveyed the young man's bruised face.
"Tmign, I have been for many years the semor
security officer on board a ftwy armed
deep-space outpost. Are you ten" me I can't
handle the first wave of a landing party?"
  The young man came suddenly to attention. "No,
sir! It's just that ... we just all thought you might
... want somebody else to have a look around down
there first:" S. His slam on had not been a
secret among his security teams. He had unde
rest" the in" of are at Deep Space Nine.
  His instinct to lash out and churn ins prowess and
self-control subsided as he swed the young security
man's expression and the deep sympathy he saw
there.
  In it was inflected their loyalty to him, their s
equals w that they couldn't protect him pediaps as
he had always tried to protect them by indeed going first
into every siumon.
  comEnsign:" he began, "yes, thank you . . .
but whatever is down there, I cannot shy from iLike I win
lead the first wave. You follow me, and beam
directly to the outer perimeter of the building.
Signal us when you believe the entrances are
secured."
  Bremerton nodded sadly. "Aye, aye, sir.
Whatever you say."
  Odo led two other beefy guards into the
transporter and steeled himself for the nauseating
process of beaming. Unlike with solids, the
transporter usually seemed a bit fitful and
confused at trying to rearrange the molecules of a
Changering, and he always had to fight to hold form just as
he was being reconstituted.
  Using the coordinates supplied by Kira, he was
able to beam directly into the corridor outside the
briefing room.
  Kira was there waiting for hit and charged into Ins
arms with a passion that drove him wild with joy and
sorrow He clutched her slim form against his and wished
she had more meat on her bones so there would be more
to hold. The fear of her death came to its fun
flowering and broke to the wind. He hadn't let himself
think she might be gone until finwly he gaw that
she wasn't. The sensation of victory nearly
overwhelmed him.
  When his head stopped swimming, he noticed that the
two guards had dutifully taken positions
outside the briefing room door Kira drew
back from a heart-ftwning kiss and gazed
at Odo happily.
  "Nerys"" he murmured.
  I
  "It's been a while, she said, not quite joining. She
lowered her voice. "Watch yourself ... I don't
trust her."
  He looked down at her. "But you am me,
don't you?" "Of course!"
  "That's all I need to know. Odo peered down at
her, cupping her knobby shoulders in his hands.
  Yes, he was sure. An his decisions had been
made.
  He had weighed all the consequences both larger and
smaller than himself, and he knew what he wanted.
  In the briefing room, Garak stood with another
Starfleet guard.
  "Constable"" he greeted tightly.
  Odo nodded. "Garak."
  And there, in the chair, was the female of his own kind
with whom he had shared so many dreamlike moments.
  She looked up to see him. Her face was a
demolished mask of illness and dessication. He
pitied her deeply.
  She must be in indescribable pain, yet there was
serenity in her eyes.
  Whatever her fate, she was taking it
courageously.
  "You're looking well, Odol" she said. Her
voice was tight.
  you for seeing me," he said sincerely.
  "It's always good to see you. But don't tUA
even you can change my mind. I have no intention of
surrendering my forces. If I did, it would be a
sign of weal mess ... an invitation for the solids
to cross into the Gamma Quadrant and destroy the
Great Link:" So that was at the bottom of her
stubbornnessexpecting others to act with the same
ruthlessness she and their kind had shown.
  comBelieve me , he told her,
  "I'm well aware that the Federation has its
flaws, but a desire for conquest isn't one of
them:" She offered him the smallest of shrugs. "And
what of the Klingon and Romulan Empires? Can you
make the same claim for them?"
  He glanced at Kim "comThe Klingon and
Romulan Empires are in no shape to wage a
war against anyone.
  Besides ... the Federation wouldn't snow it."
  The female shuddered momentarily, then regained
control. "The Dominion has spent the
past two years trying to destroy the Federation ... and
now you're asking me to put our fate in dier hands?"
  "Yes:" A very simple answer... the one word
communicated all his faith in the civilization in which
he had lived for so many more years than the last two.
  She paused, reading his eyes, but in the end she
rejected what he said.
  comI can't do andK Odo. I don't share your
faith in solids:" For that, too, he was ready.
  With one andW glance at Kim at the bid who should
be free to fly, Odo reached for the female of his own
kind.
  "Pedffs I can change your mind. Link with me:"
"Odo, what are you doing!"
  Though Kira's protest certainly did have its
effect upon him, Odo had not a thought of changing his
mind.
  He knew she didn't understand yet what was
motivating lure to dare the heretofore tricky and
threatening him with this dangerously enticing creature from
his own world.
  Until now he had been the child, always at risk,
drawn by the intrigue of the adult who tempted him
away from his safe street corner. This wonderful
day, for the first time, fliffigs were very different.
  Kira, who loved him and wanted to protect her
had no way of knowing that. She had no way of knowing the
depths of his conviction this time. He could never hope
to explain it to her in simple human words.
  There would have to be another kind of understanding between them.
  Before this, in every Link he had attempted, he had
always been g about himself, the mystery of his origins, the
otherworldly nature of his abilities, and the differences
between himself and the sobd beings who had embraced him as one
of dier own. Exploring the vast clutter of
fantasies allowed him when he discovered what he
was--a Changeling, a shapeshffter, part of that great
merged Link of millions of other souls that
ri-eely intertwined. The revelation had been shock:
trig, and had tiled him with questions.
  Since he could remember he had been a single
entity, alone in his unusual body, just like andU the
other people around him All at once he had been told
he wasn't alone, do he could blend, share, flow
with a whole civilization, that instantly they would know him
and he the aLike An extended family beyond anyone's
idea of extended families, the shape shifters were
an en tite mee that could freely merge, separate
into individuals, then merge again giving a whole new
meaning to the word com6alienccment After a
lifetime alone-individual vulnerable now knew that
he could merge with them and not lose ms singular
personality He would keep inside his private
self They could never drive him to the blended ecstasy
of artificud togetherness and make him forget who he
was.
  Never So he wasn't akmd or hesitant This
fun he would merge on his own urn, and he would be the
one in charge.
  "Tm afraid I can't Link with you:" his
cotmterpart said.
  comM him prevents me from changing my form."
  He offered his hand. "If we Link, I dWill I
can cure you."
  Garak didn't step toward them, but did say,
  "That's a very bad idea, Constable."
  Kira, on the other hand, did come closer.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Garak."
  Odo glanced at Kira. "Nerys, I know what
I'm doing."
  And there isn't time to make you understand. People are
dying.
  "Take my hand"" he said to the other Changering.
  "And if you do cure me? What will you ask in
return?"
  "All I ask is that you Link with me."
  Garak brandished his weapon again. "I'm wanting
you, Od at imploringly, Odo looked at
Kira. Would she have faith him, as he had asked?
  Kira stepped back and motioned Garak back
also.
  "Lower your weapon, Garak."
  "I don't dfiand so," he refused.
  Moving sideways, Kira simply put her hand
on his rifle and pushed it down. "I said put it
down:" why"...tl
  "Because I trust Odo."
  Overwhelmed with affection and gratitude, Odo was
warmed with confidence. He lifted his hand to the female
Changeling. He was giving her no choice. She would
accept this, but on his terms. They were for the first time on
completely equal terms. No-Utter than that.
  He, for the first time, was superior in ability.
  After a few seconds she summoned the strength
to raise her hand to his. With ease that surprised
even Odo, he wished a blending and it happened. His
hand hquelied and engulfed hers, assisting her in
morphine the sickened flakes and the mottling of her
diseased limb.
  Starfleet had the cure and had given it
to Odo, and then quite wisely and bravely elected not
to share it with the ugly culture of the beautiful
Changelings.
  Why?
  Because they didn't deserve iLike They were using their
abilities to conquer and repress ofliers, a
decidedly less noble cause den their lofty
super-ideal of themselves should have embraced. They could not
be superior if they would not us others with mercy and res
peel Starfleet had been night. Odo was going
to show her what the "lowly" Federation had that the
Changehngs had not been able to develop for themselves.
  The disease crawled into his cells as his arm
flexed and molded with hers, losing structural
integrity and flooding each to the other It tried
to overwhelm him It was strong and tenacious as any
cancer, but this time science and non had learned how
to turn back its insidious tide.
  Odo closed his eyes and concenandM on all his
personal and professional victories, the pride
he had in the people he knew were re ally his people-Ms
shipmates, statiommates, and all of the Federation
who had stood by him for his individual self while the
Changerings merely tempted and crowed at him to lose
that self, as if dud were somehow better.
  With the fbree of mental and physical WouldLike he
pushed the regeneration up Ins arm into the nul ky
substance do was both their hands, and farther into her body.
Gradually she seamed to take over, to possess the
wondrous cure that could beat the disease.
  He felt her strain and confusion, the momentary
loss of control, but he helped her continue to find the
trail of health and dismiss the disease.
  When he opened his eyes, the female
Changehng's face was no longer a cracked
plaster of near-death. Once again it was smooth as
mercury.
  She looked wonderful. She looked peaceful.
  The cure wasn't all he had given her. He
had lifted the responsibility away from her and
taken it upon himself.
  For the first time, he felt strong enough to bear it.
  "Odo to was Kira had Apparently had enough.
When she'd seen this before, it hadn't gone well.
  "Move away, Odo," she ordered.
  Both Kira and Garak now had their weapons
raised and aimed at the female's face.
  "That won't be necessary, Nerys," Odo told her.
He looked at the female. "Will it?"
  His hand returned to his own body and
let the female go. She was cured-beautiful,
passive.
  With a nod of what might be regret-he couldn't
tell any more-the female Changehng took one
step toward Kira. "If you'll step aside,
I'll order the Jem'Hadar to cease fire' was
Kira hesitated and looked at Odo. He gave
her a reassuring nod. For the first time in his
relationship with the female of his kind, he was in
control. He had given her a gift she did not
deserve-her life. She would, for a change and from now
on, do what he wanted.
  Lowering her weapon doubtfully, Kira allowed the
female to approach the monitor and begin working the
console.
  Garak and Kira clustered around Odo. He
felt wonderful and superior, confident and proud at
their expressions of respect and wonder.
  "Very impressive, Constable"" Garak offered.
  Odo was looking now at Kira.
  "Did you know the Link would cure her?" she asked
him.
  "I was hoping it would. Thank you for having faith in
me," he said to both of them.
  Garak flared at him. "Now that the
Founder can shape shift again, perhaps it would be wise
to secure her in a containment field?"
  "Don't worry, Garak. She won't try
to escape. She's agreed to stand trial for war
crimes:" Kira looked Unpressed-and
doubtful. "Tffitever you said to her in the Link must've
been very persuasive."
  Garak not only looked doubtful, but downright
disbelieving. "I'm surprised she didn't insist
on returning to the Gamma Quadrant so she could
cure her own people:" "There's no need of that:"
Odo told them sadly.
  "My not?" Kira's eyes narrowed.
  He offered her the kindest gaze he could manage.
  "Because I'm going in her place.
  The blow was encompassing. She didn't seem
to fully understand what he meant. "You're leaving?"
she asked.
  "For how long?"
  He turned to her, trying very hard to be gentle and
strong. She was the bird, she must fly, and not be
dragging a fish who belonged near an altogether different
island. With him in the Great Link, there would be no more
invasion, no more imperialism from the Changeling
civilization. He was not going back to be
one of their vague children, lost in a dream. He was
going back to teach them what it meant to be an
individual.
  Could she see that? Could she take it?
  She would have to.
  "Nerys," he began, then paused. "It's time
I rejoined my people in the Great Link."
  How could he explain it to her? He wanted to be
with her, not with them. The weren't re ally "his" people.
  They were physically like him, but that was the end of it.
  They had sent him out as an infant to go among the
solids and learn.
  If they didn't want to know now what he had
learned-they were going to hear it anyway.
  There was no inherent good or bad in ChangeUng
or solid. The Changerings could merge from now until
eternity and still only be a million individuals.
  Why had it taken so many millions of deaths of his
own people-yes, the solids of the Alpha
Quadrantbefore he understood that?
  He had to make them see it. In their way, they were
just liquid solids, each to himself ulfimtely. They
were born single, and they died single. How could the
middle be any different?
  make them stand if it took the next
century. This foolish war against all solids--it was
the Changerings' lack of understanding that had caused their
159 fears. As the solids had once hunted them
out of fear, they now hunted the solids out of fear-and
that was simply primitive.
  Shameful.
  He felt supremely confident, even eager.
He had his own conquest to exact. Go be with his own people?
No.
  If he were to be with his own, he would stay here. If
he were to do the best thing for himself, he would stay.
  Even as the temptation fluttered within him, he
knew he would go to the Link. Iris friends here still
needed him ... they needed him to be in the Gannna
Quadrant, guarding their future, doing the best he
could with all his strengths as a Changeling, not as a
solid.
  He would go, he would stay, and he would teach all the
other fish how to be birds.
  The capital city was in nuns. Around the planet
other cities were burning as well, through the days and
into the nights. Fires billowed with ironic beauty
against the horizon of obliterated buildings,
collapsed homes, and burned-out shells. Bodies
by the dozens were strewn along the street like
paper litter.
  "Eight hundred million dead. . .
  Julian Bashir looked out over the city from the
window of the briefing room. He'd been assigned
here to triage the wounded, but there weren't any.
Long-range scans showed that the Jem'Hadar had
been superior m their efficiency. Who they had
set out to kill, they had killed.
  Beside hmi, Gar-ak looked over the num of his
native planet. "And the casualty reports are
still coming in. My exile is officially over,
doctor. I have returned home for good. And what have
I found awaiting me? A wasteland."
  Bashir gazed at him thoughtfully. "Wastelands can
be made fertile again"" he offered.
  How hollow it sounded.
  "It's easy for you to be opffiffistic. They're not
your dead."
  Bashir held back pointing out that aBut dead were his
dead, that it was patently racist to din that somehow the
suffering of strangers who looked alike was closer
suffering. Yet, he knew that was how some people thought.
No point arguing surface moralities right now,
was there?
  "You must have some hope for the future,
Garak:" he pointed out instead. "Otherwise you
wouldn't stay."
  "You have it backward"" Garak told him. "I
have to stay, even without hope. So I'm afraid this
is goodbye.
  After seven years, you're going to have to find yourself a
new lunch partner and a new tailor. I'm afraid
I've hemmed my last pair of pants."
  Bashir offered a meager smile. "Tinker,
tailor, soldier, spy ... I wonder what's
next for you, Garak.
  "Who can say, Doctor?" his Cardassian friend
said.
  He seemed reluctant to say more, except
finally to add,
  "We live in uncertain times:" They looked
at each other, without the typical jovial sparring that
usually went on between them. This was a time to lose loved
ones, to lose friends. Bashir felt his chest grow
hollow with the fear that big changes were coming, that the
family they'd built over the past seven years,
sometimes the hard way, was about to get a whole bunch of
reassignment orders.
  But what else? How long could a given condition go
on? Children grew up, people died, relationships
came and departed, things changed, and without those
alterations there would be no sense to cherish the precious.
  "T hope all goes well for you, Garak:"
he offered.
  "The galaxy is going to get very big for a while,
after seeming very small lately ... there's going to be
a great deal of rebuilding. Much sorrow, I
suppose, but there are things to be learned from all that."
  "You optimize too much, Julian," Garak
said with a little chuckle. "Of all of us, you've had the
steadiest life over the past several years.
  Somebody gets a cut, you patch it up.
We've all gone through major changes.
  You've managed to hold onto your anchor most
of the way."
  Bashir sighed. "I suppose I don't like
changes very much, Garak.
  Usually I just sit back and wait, and things
settle down again. This time, I don't see the
seffldg any time soon. There's not going to be any
more time at anchor for me."
  Garak smiled and his eyes flared. "Ah, but when
one is in love, one doesn't want to be held
down. Does oner" Bashir managed a laugh.
"No, one doesn't re ally. Oh, my
goodness, I feel so terrible thinking about that while
looking out at ... all this."
  "We Cardassians brought this upon ourselves.
Intrigue eventually turns upon the intriguer
  "And you would know."
  "Yes, I would." Garak held out his hand. "Good
luck, Doctor."
  Though there was a sadness, Bashir felt a rush of
hope as he clasped Garak's hand. "Good luck
to you... citizen."
  "Tins is a moment worth save ring.
To victory-4anggI fought and well earned."
  Chancellor Martok drained his glass, as he
stood with Ben Sisko and Admiral Ross on the
balcony overlooking the ravaged city which now stood
in the possession of the Aired force.
  Sisko glared out at the carnage. The people had been
dragged from their homes and slaughtered, dumped in the
street, and their homes torched. The r landscape
closed his throat. He could no more take a drink
than bing those people back to life.
  This was victory?
  He told himself it was nothing to the carriage that would
have taken place if the Jem'Hadar hadn't been
stopped.
  Still.... "Suddenly I'm not thur sty,- he
muttered.
  Ross put his drba on the balcony rail.
"Neither am like."
  Martok poured himself a second glass. "Before you
waste too many tears"" he said, "remember those
are Cardassians lying dead out there.
  The Bajorans would call this poetic justice."
  Sisko bristled. That still doesn't mean I have
to drink a toast over a million dead bodies:,
He put his own glass down and followed Ross
back into the briefing room, leaving Martok alone
to gaze at the devastation with his own Elingon
sensibilities. To Martok, those people had paid a
price they'd set them 164 selves up to pay.
The Klingons had dealt with retribution for
centuries uncounted.
  Well, they could have it.
  The men collected their various convictions and all
the pail of winning at such cost, and gratefully
left the crushed hulk of Cardassia. The voyage
back to Deep Space Nine was solemn and lacked
conversation.
  Every one seemed to prefer that.
  Sisko certainly did. What more was there
to say? If there was one person left on either side,
in any faction, who didn't know why they had been
fighting, he was living in a shoebox and knitting
spiderwebs He entered the station to a blaze of
fanfare and applause. He led his crew onto the
Promenade, met Kasidy and Jake and their
embracing arms, saw with deep satisfaction Odo
and Kira walidng together, Bashir and Ezri,
O'Brien and his family ... even Worf seemed
placid.
  Within an hour, a short blip of time, the
wardroom was crowded with dignitaries and
representatives for the formal cease-fire.
  The female shape shifter was here, looking smooth
as ever. Two Vorta, three Jem'Hadar
Fusts. When he arrived, they were all seated around the
curved table, official surrender documents layered
on its surface.
  Sisko joined Admiral Ross, Chancellor
Martok, and Ifigh Cenwfion Lag of the
Romulan delegation. Among the witnesses filling
the room were aBut Sisko's close command family,
other star fleet officers he didn't know well, and
several more Vorta and Jem'Hadar The female
shape shifter signed the documents-he would
have to look later to see if she had a name or had
simply squished an X-and looked up at them.
She looked unusually ... happy?
  "The war between the Dominion and the Federation Alliance
is now over,"
  she announced without holding back.
  Admiml Ross surveyed the documents, then
looked up.
  "Four hundred years ago, a victorious
general spoke the following words at the end of another
costly war.
  "Today the guns are silent. A great tragedy
has ended.
  We have known the bitterness of defeat and the exultation
of triumph, and from both we have learned there can be no
turning back. We must go forward to preserve in
peace what we've won in war."
  was A moment of silence ushered in an appreciation
for the rightness of vigilance.
  Sisko nodded at his guards. Two of them
stepped up behind the female shape shifter. With her
usual dignity she stood up and unashamedly headed
for the door.
  As she passed Odo, however, she paused. That
made everybody nervous.
  "It's up to you now, Odo" she said.
  What was that supposed to mean?
  Sisko watched, but there was no signal of
clarification.
  Odo simply nodded, and the female continued out of the
room without another word.
  The Jem'Hadar filed after her, and the Vorta after
them, all flanked by Starfleet guards. There would be
no more trouble. It was re ally over.
  The significance of the fact that all this had started
at Deep Space Nine and now was ending here was not
lost on Sisko. He felt a shining pjide that
history had just been made on his doorstep.
Maybe there should be a plaque.
  He met the eyes of his friends, one by one, and
gradually they filed from the room, everyone overcome
and unable to make casual conversation.
  With a gesture, he escorted Martok and Ross
out onto the Promenade for the final brilliant
moment of this day.
  People nodded politely at them as they walked, but
kept their distance.
  As Sisko and his colleagues chose one of the
wide Promenade viewports on the won'nhole
side, other people moved away to other windows,
letting the three men have the best view and a bubble of
privacy from which to enjoy it.
  'fberr, in space, was the Jem'Hadar armada of
warships, escorted on each side by Federation
starships. The approached the wormhole without
signal or declaration. As the unexplainable maw
opened, sparkling and swirling, the Federation ships
peeled away, clearing the to be gulped down by the
giant special causeway to the Gamma
Quadrant.
  The wormhole accepted them, then draw stringed itself
closed and disappeared. Hard to believe it was still there,
just invisible.
  Would it remain for a year, or a million years?
No one could ten.
  They stiff didn't re ally understand how stable it
was, or whether it was a plaything or repository
for the Prophets who lived inside.
  Sarah? Are you watching?
  "Gentlemen:" Ross began, "for the first time in
two and a half years, there isn't a single
Dominion ship anywhere in the Sisko shook his
head. He actually hadn't thought of that.
  "Now, that ... is worth toasting," he said.
  "Finally!" Martok looked around and saw
Quark's bar just over there, saw a Ferengi waiter
carrying a familiar bottle and some glasses to a
table of Klingons. "Waiter!
  Bring over that blood wine!"
  The waiter didn't even pretend to argue. His
simply came out of the bar, crossed the Promenade
and fumbled for a moment about how he was going to hold the
tray, the glasses and the bottle without ditching the
whole affair.
  Martok saved him by pouring the wine himself and offering
glasses to Ross and Sisko. "I'm glad we
agree there's something worth celebrating!"
  Ross raised his glass. "Let's hope this is
the last war we see in our lifetime."
  "You call that a toast?" Martok roared. "To a
glorious victory!"
  They drank, and grudgingly, after he got his
toast, Martok offered a grudging shrug.
  "Thoughcc"he added,
  "I admit the cost was high."
  Sisko sipped his blood wine, and gazed down
to another level, where he saw Odo and Kira
walking slowly together.
  "And I don't think we're quite done paying it."
  "You're coming to Vic's tonight?"
  "I will be there. But I will not dance."
  in
  "Who's asking?"
  The conversation between Ezri and Worf was almost cute
as Ben Sisko strode up behind them, feeling a little
voyeuristic for having heard.
  He could only be so polite-he had Martok
admi Admiral Ross with him.
  Amazing that Worf hadn't heard them approach,
or that Ezri hadn't just sensed their eyes on them.
  Better not to embarrass them.
  "Commander Worf," he called, and they stopped
to wait. "Can you spare a moment?"
  Martok didn't seem bothered by Ezri's
presence and boldly said,
  "We've been discussing your plans for the futm.
I Worf looked at him, then at Ross. "I
wasn't aware I had plans."
  "Commander," Ross took over, "how would you feel
about being named Federation Ambassador to Kronos?"
  Worf gawked at them, waiting for the punch line.
At his side, Ezri contained a smile.
  When nobody started laughing, Worf screwed up
his resolve and announced,
  "I am not a diplomat."
  "And I am not a politician!" Martok shot
back. "But sometimes fate plays cruel tricks
on us. Come, Worf!
  Kronos needs you. And what's more, I need you."
  Completely stunned, Worf turned to Ezri as
Sisko hottled up his own grin and waited.
  Ezri's eyes glittered happily. "You
helped him become chancellor ... you can't very well
turn your back on him now."
  Disarmed by that, Worf looked at Sisko. "My
first loyalty is to you, Captain!"
  Sisko blushed inwardly at the idea that he could
stimulate more devotion than a whole empire
waiting in the wings. "I'll probably regret this
in the morning, but if this is something you want, then
by all means...... He offered a Httle shrug that
clinched the deal.
  Absorbing too much too fast, Worf caved to the
pressure of all those surrounding him, but kept his
eyes fixed on Sisko and held his breath.
  "It has been a great honor to serve with you,
sir," he offered sincerely.
  Sisko nodded to him. "The honor was all mine."
  After a pause, Worf turned to Martok, sill
holding the same breath. "I accept."
  Martok bowled forward and embraced him in a big
Klingon way. "An ambassador who will go targ
hunting with me! Maybe being chancellor won't be so
bad after bem!"
  And he broke into a fierce laugh.
  Ezri touched Worf's arm. "Congratulations,
Worf."
  Sisko watched as her eyes filled with tears,
then she almost immediately regained control over herself.
She went up on her toes to kiss Worf on the
cheek and give him a hug-w friends.
  It was good to see. And Sisko needed something that was
good to see.
  "When will you be going?"
  Kira was warm and tender on Odo's arm as they
sandfile along as if nothing were wrong.
  "In a day or two," he told her, hoping it
sounded wise.
  "You could come back:" she suggested carefully,
"after you've cured your people...... "Nerys," he said,
stopping that line of thought,
  "I hope you know my feelings toward you haven't
changed. But my people need me. They need to know what
I know, learn what I've learned from living among
solids.
  It's the only way they will ever learn to trust you."
  "You don't have to justify your decision to me,
Odo" she said.
  He appreciated her for that. She wasn't
dismissing herself from loving him, or claiming that she
wasn't a big enough part of her life to deserve an
explanation.
  She was telling him, in her way, that she knew he
had a good reason, somed'g beyond his own personal
satisfactions.
  Strange, but he knew she would have protested before
this, because she was worried about the effect the Link would have
on him. This lack of protest proved that she
understood, or at least suspected: it would be Odo
affecting the Link from now on, not the other way around.
  "there's only one thing I ask:" she added.
  "Name it."
  "That we spend your last few days as a solid
together.
  I want to take you back to your home world."
  Her bravery and bittersweet faith in him almost
knocked him over. She was giving not only her
love, but her blessing.
  "I'd like that:" he said, and abnost couldn't
speak. "I'd like that very much."
  Heat, flame, ecstasy.
  The Fire Caves burned and swam with concoction.
She could hear her own voice, but as if disembodied,
louder and louder, echoing now.
  DOORA TOLKA BRE-TRI PAH-WRAN
  DOTTA TOLKA O-CHEN DOORA
TOLDA
  WEY-DAY SHAY HAL!
  She was half insane, her voice cracking, her
skin shiny with sweat, her clothing damp and hanging, but
the chant rose within her with a power she could never have
imagined before! Over there, Dukat's lifeless body
lay in sacrifice to the Pah-wraiths. They would
come!
  They would come to her! She had done everything they could
possibly want!
  The fimnes! The fires of the abyss rose over
her head into unnatural spirals! The
Pah-wraiths! They were hearing her!
  Kos'se nusso ma' koran kainani .
  preen dali-ono uka'lamor eye anu!
  Kosst Amojan! I await you! Come to me!
  The energy spiral gained speed, raced, flew,
ran, surged over her head.
  She stretched out her arm to it, seeking the
blessing of the Pah-wraiths, whom she herself had freed
from their prison.
  They would adore her! They would favor her!
Energy spears darted all around the vaulted ceiling
of the Fire Caves, all at her bidding. She was the
greatest conjurer!
  A spear of flame came down like a javelin and
struck her in the heart. Their power was too great-the
javelin slammed her backward into the hard wet
sizzling wall.
  Plastered there, she was helpless to raise her amis
again. Her unblinking eyes saw the flames take
on a flying shape, springing and darting in their
exuberance. But they were making a mistake.
  The javelin vectored away from her, denying her the
power.
  Instead, it went to Dukat and drove itself into his
open mouth, surging, surging into his body. But he
was the sacrifice-she had brought him to them!
  They were making a mistake. A mistake!
  As her shuddering legs betrayed her and she began
to slip down to the cliff shelf, Winn's burning
eyes remained open and her brain remained aware,
though her limbs were leaden and her heart had seized
up.
  Before her, on the shelf at the brink of the flanung
abyss, Dukat's body shook from within. Its eyes
flew open with unworldly power.
  There, in his eyes, she saw the life force of the
Pah-wraiths.
  They had chosen him and not her. They had come, they were
here. They were free.
  Vic's Lounge, inside Quark's Lounge, a
little bit of unreality inside a place of, some would
argue, equal Wusion.
  Eh, well, the 1960's had their eh dn't they?
  Barbie Dolls and cars with fins, beawks and
bongos, and something called go-and-go boots.
  Quark entered the bar-in-a-bar and was greeted
by Vic Fontaine.
  "Hey, pauie! If you're here for another game
of go fish, I'm a little busy right now."
  "Actually," Quark told him,
  "I'm here for the
end-of the-war-goodbye-Chief-O'Brien-goodbye-Odo
party."
  "Over there, at the bar."
  "Ibanks."
  Yeah, there they were. Sisko, his wife
Kasidy, Kira with Odo, Worf more or
less by himself in a crowd, O'Brien, Dr.
Bashir, Ezri Dax, and Jake Sisko.
Nice bunch of bananas. They all looked
perfectly content, even happy.
  Well, except Worf. He wasn't howling
yet.
  "I'm serious, Miles," Dr. Bashir was
saying as Quark approached,
  "I
  envy you. I re ally do. San Francisco
is one of my favorite cities on Earth."
  "Earth's got lots of wonderful cities""
O'Brien said.
  "Every city on Earth has its own personality.
Now, just let any other planet make that claim.
And country! Do we have country. Canyons and
grasslands and forests and redwoods and-" "Miles,
have another drink."
  Quark muscled his way between Sisko and Ezri.
  "May I have everyone's attention please?
Attention, please! In appreciation for all that
you've done to end the war and save the Alpha
Quadrant, the Promenade Merchants'
Association has voted to pay the costs of your
holosuite visit this evening."
  The crowd of DS9ERS cheered at themselves and
Quark got a few good slams on the back.
  "comThat's very generous of them," Ezri said.
  Jake Sisko leaned forward. "Who are they
paying, Quark?" he asked.
  "The, of course! And since they're being so
generous, I'm charging them double."
  Nobody seemed surprised. After all, he
knew it was a great idea.
  Maybe he could market it.
  Him.... "So" he went on, "eat all you can,
drink even more, and stay as late as you like."
  Sure.-die more they ate, the more they drank and the
later they stayed, the bigger the bill.
  "Don't worry, Quark," Bashir said.
"It's going to be a long night.
  There's a lot of good-byes to be said. To Miles
and Odo and Worf at "Worf.?" Quark swung
around to the Klingon. "Where are you going?"
  "It does not concern you, Ferengi."
  Ezri smiled and patted Worf's enormous
hand.
  "Worf's been made Federation Ambassador
to Kronos!"
  "You?" Quark swung around again. "A
diplomat?"
  Worf scowled, then decided to admit,
  "That was my first reaction."
  Ben Sisko beamed at his favorite hunk of
granite and raised his glass.
  "But Admiral Ross and Chancellor Martok
wouldn't take no for an answer."
  Quark bothered to fill all their glasses as long
as they weren't re ally paying attention, and
distracted them by asking,
  "Anybody else leaving that I should know abThat'
O'Brien reeled back and proclaimed,
  "I didn't know you cared, Quark."
  "I don't. If you want to spend the rest of your
life on that rotating ball of boredom called
Earth, that's fine with me. I just don't like change,
that's all:" Bashir laughed aloud, as if that
meant something.
  "Well," Sisko said, "you better get used
to it, because fliffigs are going to be pretty different
around here."
  Perhaps he hadn't meant it heavily, but his words
threw a pall over the occasion. Suddenly they aBut
seemed to realize they were celebrating the breakup of
long-fun acquaintances. Quick-pour more
drinks before they all get depressed!
  Odo broke the threatening mood. "What ever were
we tMng about before Quark showed up?"
  Kasidy caught the ball. "How much Julian
loves San Francisco." that's right," Bashir
plowed on. "The Bay, the bridge, the
restaurants, the painted-lady houses, Big
Stir, Monterey, the antique street cars, all
that history ... you're going to love it, Miles."
  "I sure will:" O'Brien said. "But it's going
to be a bit of an adjustment at first'
"Nonsense!" Bashir cut off. "You'll have your
students, your family-think of all the quality time
you can spend with Molly and Kirayoshi ... the long,
romantic walks with Keiko through Golden Gate
Park. . . ."
  Kasidy gazed at Sisko. "Sounds
wonderful" she uttered.
  "It is wonderful!" Bashir proclaimed. he'
pressed a hand to O'Brien's shoulder. "You lucky
devil. Bartender! Another round for my friends here!"
  When the bartender didn't respond right away,
Bashir drifted off down the bar to hail the service
in person.
  O'Brien watched him go, appearing
happy and content about the break-up.
  "He's taking it better than I thought," he
mentioned, knowing he was probably about to jinx the whole
attitude. "My leaving and all...... Ezri,
typically, found the truth much more comforting than a
fluffy deception. "Are you kidding? He's dying
inside."
  Sadness pressed in on O'Brien no matter
how he tried to pretend it wasn't there.
  "I know how he feels:" he said.
  But did he? He was going off on a new
adventure.
  Teaching, Earth, home life, safety ...
yes, these had their kind of adventurous nature.
They had their attractive wonderment. There was
challenge in making fliffigs wOrk, showing young
minds how to make things happen, in raising a contented
child, providing security for his wife and Idds. He
was starting to feel a whole other kind of intimidation and
anticipation: stare down the barrel of a thirty-year
mortgage and say that guy's not a hero. A good
honest job, leaving the glory-mange ring to the young
upstarts. He did like the idea. There was a
challenge there and he was looking forward to it. He
knew the captain and Ezri Dax and the
others would be all right without him, despite the fact
that he'd been taking care of them all these years,
making sure they had air to breathe and propulsion when
they needed it ... only Bashir worried him.
  Julian was hiding something, burying his real
feelings-Ezri was right about that. Even a new love
couldn't replace the security of old friends.
O'Brien knew he'd been wrong to hope so. He
knew, and felt awful, that Bashir was determined
to be happy for him and not make him feel bad.
  "Ladies and gentlemen!"
  Vic Fontaine raised his hands and gained
everyone's attention from where he stood at the front
of the jazz band.
  "Tins is a very special night for some friends of
mine , he began.
  "They've been together a long fun, but like the man
said, nothing lasts forever. Gang" he added, looking
over to them, "andness ones from the heart.
  One. . two. . . ."
  The time was jazzy, cheery, yet the words gripped
O'Brien and most likely all of them with the firm
hand of melancholy. They re ally were breaking up.
Until now, it hadn't seemed so imminent.
  Well, this couldn't go on.
  He pushed away from his seat, went around Ezri
to where Julian Bashir was watching the band play.
  "Julian? All right?"
  "Oh, Miles ... it's good music, isn't
it? I flirt it was written in the fifties, though.
It's got that little swing about it,
  "I'm not talking about the song, mate."
  Bashir glanced at him. "No ... I
suppose not. Don't worry about me.
  I've got my work cut out for me ... we're
going to be helping to rebuild Cardassia, after
all, and" O'Brien put a hand on his arm.
"Julian, stop. No job is going to come between us.
Not yours, and not even rnme. Is that perfectly
clear?
  You get leaves, I get leaves-there's only so
much that distance can do to keep us apart, and we're in
charge of that. This is the age of warp speed.
Understand?"
  Realizing perhaps for the first time that his looming loneliness
wasn't going to dominate their lives, Bashir met
O'Brien's gaze with a glint of genuine-not
pretend-hope and gratitude.
  "I understand:" he said.
  O'Brien nodded. "You know the first thing
I'm going to do when I get to Earth?"
  "Take a trip to Texas."
  "And visit the Alamo."
  Bashir smiled. "You'll send me a souvenir?"
  Shaking his headeaO'Brien did his best to look
offended. "What do you think?"
  A round of applause broke their conversation, and
they reared the song was over. Thank God.
  Captain Sisko's glass was held high.
O'Brien and Bashir turned to meet their commander's
toast.
  "To the best crew any captain every had""
Sisko offered. Veasthell they had aBut lifted
their glasses, he continued. "Tins may be our last
night together, but I know one thing. No matter what the
future may hold, no matter how far we
travel or where we end up, a part of us, a very
large par will always remain here ... on Deep
Space Nine."
  Neither the most poetic nor the most profound
speech ever made, but there wasn't a one of them who
didn't believe every word. It was a promise between
them, an extension of Bashir and O'Brien's, that
even those they would never see again would remain with them
somehow.
  O'Brien raised his glass to Sisko, then, before
actually dening, made sure that he and Bashir were
looking at each other and had a private moment
anud the public farewell.
  Yes. It was time to move on-together.
  "Are you sure you want to leave without saying
goodbye?"
  Kira Nerys wWW beside Odo to the airlock,
where the runMuts were stationed, fueled, and ready Odo
seemed pensive as he walked at her side, but he
seemed also serene and in control. There wasn't a
bit of doubt in him.
  "Quite sure"" he said. "I'm not very good at
goodbyes."
  No, he wasn't, she had to agree, and there was
some sense to his refusal. If a goodbye was
focused upon too much, then that would be all anyone would
ever remember.
  He was smart.
  She beamed at him. "A lot of people are going to be
disappointed."
  "If they don't know how I feel about them now,"
he pointed out quite rightly, "a few parting words won't
make any difference."
  At the thresh hold of the airlock, they
had almost gone in together when a voice cracked at them
from back in the corridor.
  "I knew it!"
  They turned-first mistake.
  Quark was rushing toward them.
  "When I saw the two of you slip out of the
holosuite, I said to myself, "That no-good
misanthropic cantankerous Changering is trying
to sneak off the station without anyone's noticing!"
  Kira smiled.
  "That was the idea , Odo confirmed.
  Quark rushed up to them and wheedled around between them and the
airlock. "well, it's not going to happen!"
  "Appeawntl y not."
  comSo now that I'm here, isn't there something you want
to say to me?"
  Odo peered down at hint
  "Such asThat" "Such as,
  "Goodbye, you certainly were a worthy adversary,"
or maybe something with the words "mutual respect"
in it-was "No." Odo straightened sharply.
  "No? What do you mean "no"?"
  "comMere's nothing I want to say to you."
  Quark huffed, insulted. "You're telling me that
after all these years, after all we've been
thor ugh, you're not even going to say goodbye to me?"
  Clasping his hands behind his back, Odo raised his
chin. "That's right."
  Kira held her breath while the two men stared
at each other for a long-and longer-time.
  When that snapped, Odo looked at her.
"Nerys, I'll be on the runabout."
  With a final dismissive glare, he disappeared around
Quark and into the airlock.
  Quark shifted his weight a couple of times. "I
guess that's it, then."
  Kira nodded. "Don't take it so hard,
Quark:" "Hard? What are you ming about? That man
loves me! Couldn't you see?
  It was written aBut over his bac!"
  The Ferengi turned on a heel and wheeled down
the corridor without turning even once to look this
way again.
  Of course! It wasn't over! Kira smiled,
then let herself actually laugh. Nothing was over, not
at all. They were the kind of friends who could see each
other every twenty years and it would be as if nothing had
changed! VI-HY hadn't she realized that before?
  And a lot could still happen, couldn't it?
  Sure it could. The future was big.
She was looking forward to it.
  The Fire Caves roared their full-fledged
hellfire. Winn slowly regained control over her
eyes, her amis. She looked and finally saw.
  At the edge of the abyss, standing strong and straight,
Dukat had been whisformed back into a
Cardassian-his born form, his birthright-and he
seemed thrilled with himself.
  Wren crawled to her knees. The Kosst
Amojan lay discarded a few steps from her.
  "No ... no ... not you ... it was supposed
to be me!"
  Disgust and terror ran through her body.
Pah-wraith Dukat's victorious smile bored
into her mind. His eyes were the orbs of a demon.
  "Did you re ally uMore' he began slowly, "the
Pahwraiths would choose you to be their Emissary?
They hate the Bajorans. All Bajorans."
  Encased in bitterness, Winn understood she had
been used.
  Pah-Dukat glared down at her with his red-ringed
eyes.
  "Soon the Pah-wraiths will burn across
Bajor," he said, "across the Celestial
Temple, the Alpha Quadrant ... can
you picture it? A universe in flames! Burning
brightly for aBut eternity! Can you see it?
  Can you see it? Bum ... burm ... burn!"
  "Ben? Ben, what's wrong? BenThat' He had
stopped dancing. He saw fire in his n-And.
  Kasidy took his hand, leaned before him, tried
to bring him out of what he saw.
  He would not come out of it.
  "I understand now...... His voice-but strange.
  "Understand what?" Kasidy prodded nervously.
  "What I have to do ... what I was meant to do.
  Kas ... I have to go."
  He heard his own words, and knew his life would
never be the same, from this moment. A bizarre serenity
came over him. This had been a long time coming. She
would have to accept it.
  "Go?" She followed him as he broke from the
table.
  "Where? Ben, where are you going?"
  "To Bajor. To the Fire Caves."
  "Right now? Can't it wait until morning?"
  She didn't understand. She didn't see what he
saw.
  "In the morning:" he told her, "it'll be
too late."
  Fear came into her eyes. "I'll go with you!"
  "No Even through the flames in his mind he found the
strength to turn and look at her. He owed her that, for
after this night nothing would be the same. She would have to be
strong. She had it in her to survive, to get through,
to accept that ... "I have to do this alonebb'he said.
  His head swam with fire through the whole voyage.
  He was concentrating, steeling himself, preparing for
what must come.
  His hands and legs tingled. Soon he would have no more
use for this body. He did not answer the sensation,
or even dWill about it after the first moments. He'd
issued himself a priority-one phaser rifle and
kept it on the copilot's seat the whole way.
  In his mind all he saw was the caverns. Already the
smell of moist walls, steam, and the guttural
snarl of volcanic action filled his nostrils and
ears.
  When he was finally beamed to the maw of the Fire
Caves, his mind and soul were already inside. He
walked inside, armed with his rifle, lit by his
palm beacon.
  "Dad...... His son's voice called to him from
the walls, the cathedral ceiling that had no top, but
only darkness.
  "Jbbke?"
  Ben Sisko felt the pull of his humanity as
he turned to see his son standing among the stones.
  "You've got to come back to the station with me."
  "How'd you get here?" he asked.
  "It doesn't matter," Jake claimed. "If
you stay here, you'll die."
  "He's right, Ben:" Kasidy said.
  Clasping his rifle, he swung around. She was
there, standing by the wall on the other side of the cavern.
She looked so peaceful, so beautiful ... he
hadn't realized how lonely he had been since his
wife "You're not re all" he told her. "Neither
one of you."
  Kasidy seemed hurt. "But what we're saying
is real.
  "If you try to stop the Restoration, Jake said,
"you'll be killed was "And YOU can't defeat the
Kosst Amoian:" Kassidy explained.
"They're too powerful."
  "Come home, Dad." His son's face
crumpled with worry. "You don't belong here! It's
not your fight!"
  His wif at "We're trying to help you!"
  "No" was Sisko rejected. "You're
trying to make me doubt myself. I won't let you."
  He turned his back on them as Jake held out
a hand.
  "Dad, please!"
  In his periphery, Kasidy's face was
tortured. "Ben ... don't."
  He moved on without them, turning his back on the
two-no, three people he cared most about in the
universe. Something bigger, more magnetic drew him
for 186 ward, a purpose, a responsibility so
powerful that he never hesitated another step.
  "Their beloved Emissary sent forth like an avenging
angel to slay the demon."
  Who was that?
  Sisko bhfted his eyes. Burning sweat poured
into them, snapping him back to his physical body
with very real pain.
  "Dukat...... "The Prophets have sent me a
gift!"
  Moving forward toward the glowing form of the
Cardassian, Sisko squared his shoulders. "I
should've known the demon would be you."
  Dukat raised his amis. "Go on. Kill me
if you can. Sisko raised his rifle, but before he could
take aim, the weapon vaulted from his hands
and dashed itself against the rocks. He hadn't entirely
expected that to work anyway.
  "Come now, captain"" Dukat crowed, "you'll
have to do better than that."
  The Cardassian stretched out a hand, discharging an
energy bolt with no weapon at all.
  Sisko felt the hard zap and tried to relax as
he was blown to the ground.
  '? is too easy," Dukat complained. "I
want to savor the moment:" Bruising quite humanly,
Sisko climbed to his feet. The cobwebs of
hypnotic awareness fled, leaving his head clear.
He climbed back to the ledge where Dukat stood.
  "That's right," the Cardassian tempted. "Come
closer."
  Sisko willingly did that, determined to show
Dukat that he had not ever and did not now scare
Benjamin Sisko.
  "Now bow to me."
  Ridiculous.
  "I said ... bow."
  A force of me blew across the ledge, knocking
Sisko to his knees.
  Didn't count. Wasn't voluntary.
  He shook his head at Dukat.
"You're pathetic."
  "Am I? Then why are you the one on your
knees?"
  "First the Dominion"" Sisko began, "and now
the Pah-wraiths. You sure know how to choose the
losing side." lbs reward was a crass bolt of
agony from the Cardassian. Somehow that was
satisfying. Even in inimortality Dukat was still a
superficial guy and Sisko could get under his skin
with a couple of insults.
  "Benjamin, please:" Dukat began again.
"We've known each other too long. And since this
is the last time we'll ever be together, let's try
to speak honestly. In the past, we've both had our
share of victories and defeats, but now it's time
to resolve our differences and face the ulfimte
truth ... the only truth: I've won and you've
lost."
  Sisko looked up at him, leering fiercely,
with a damnable satisfaction that wouldn't go away.
  Pah-wraith or not, Dukat was still Dukat,
skin-deep and easy to prick.
  "If you think:" Sisko challenged, "the
Pah-wraiths are going to do any better than the
Dominion, you're sadly mistaken.
They're not going to conquer anything. Not Bajor, not the
Celestial Temple, and certainly not the "And
who's going to stop us?"
  "am."
  "You? You can't even stand up."
  "Then I'll stop you!" A shriek of threat
rose from ten feet away.
  Sisko spun around to see Kai Winn-or a
ragged phantom of her-rise out of the dust and steam,
holding the Kosst Amojan text high over her
head. She reared back to throw the book into the flaming
cavern.
  "Are you still here?" Dukat mused.
  He raised his hand. The book rushed out of her
grip and flew into his own.
  A tendril of bright energy, clearly not just another
hek of flame, snaked out of the abyss, coiled around
her body six times, a dozen time, then burst
into scaring electrical fire.
  While it consumed her, Dukat clutched the
book.
  "Farewell, AW."
  In that last moment of snide vulnerability, between
god and lowly creature, Sisko seized his chance.
  Whatever this creature was, the real
Dukat was enjoying a last bit of crude
pleasure. He had to be in there somewhere.
  Sisko launched himself in a running tackle and
thundered into Dukat's all too solid form. Dukat
was merely an obstacle. Sisko had aimed not at
the Cardassian, but in his mind and with his body he had
aimed at the cavern beyond, like a high-diver charging off
a cliff in some tropical paradise. Paradise
would come, he could reach it, and he wasn't about to leave
Dukat behind to plague the natural worlds Sisko
had so long protected.
  Together, their forms wheeled and turned through the
skyscraper-high flames, down, down into the endless
depths of the Fire Caves. V@fe limbo
wrapped around them.... Cool mist cradled his
sweating face, taking his body in its gentle fingers
and rocking him as if in a hammock.
  He heard his own heartbeat, the breathing of his
lungs.
  Sweet, cool air, moist with fresh rain,
drew into his lungs and spread its droplets on
his face. No more fire.
  No more burning.
  "Seauah?"
  He felt her presence, and many others.
  "Are you there?" he asked her. "comWhat
happened?"
  "Congratulations, my son. The Emissary has
completed his zask."
  "But the Pah-wraith sThat' "You've returned
them to their prison within the Fire Caves."
  comThe book. It was the key, wasn't it?"
  "To a door that can never again be opened."
  "And Dukat? Is he dead?"
  "He is where he belongs. With the Pah-wraiths.
Your time of trial has ended. You may rest."
  "I will ... as soon as I get back to Deep
Space Nine. . . ."
  "You won't be going back there, Benjamin. Your
corporeal existence is over" He heard his own
voice now as an echo, not as sound.
  He said something else, but there was only music.
  Before him, the nst took shape. Many other
Prophets gave him the gift of belonging. There,
within reach of his mile-long amis, they took the forms
he wanted to be near. Kira, Worf, Ezri
... Martok, Ross ... Odo, Bashir ...
And his mother. He saw her as Kasidy and as Jake,
and with them the child of the future.
  She spoke to him in a voice like harp
strings.
  "You are one of us now."
  "A sea of Changelings.... The whole planet
seemed wrapped in gold. Not the yellow gold of a
child's crayon nor the jaundice of envy, but the
deep chamois gold that artists dream to make,
milky melted honey with that oily slick that makes
it soft ... and there was a whole ocean of it.
  How many souls rolled and surged out there? How many
people was she seeing in this seemingly uninhabited
expanse? Was there one to a bucketful? One to a
droplet? She couldn't begin to judge.
  This was the most alien of alien worlds, and Kira
Nerys could not even begin to imagine how it would be
to live out there.
  And she could stand here on this atoll for the rest of her
life and all other conceivable lifetimes, and still never
be part of that civilization. They would have to change to an
unnatural state in order to accept her, and that would
be unfair.
  She would not stay here and tempt them to embrace a
person who had no business wanting to stay. She had
nothing in common with them physically and-far more
importantly-nothing in common with them morally either.
  Why was she so peaceful at the idea of
Odo's staying here with these million or billion
strangers? He wasn't one of them, not re ally.
They weren't "his" people. They just looked like him. They
loved each other, and she was losing him-yet she
embraced with a strange passivity that this was the goal
he had been seeking so stress fully all the time
they'd known each other.
  Odo had always been a man out of place. He'd
been here before, though, and knew this wasn't his place.
He could've stayed the other times he met the Link.
These weren't re ally his people, not by the heart, by the
cause, or by the spirit.
  He wasn't staying for these Changelings. He was
staying for himself, and for the Alpha Quadrant. lbs
personal generosity and sense of fight and wrong would
keep him content here, for he had a purpose here like
none other he had ever faced on Deep Space
Nine. He had a reason.
  He thinks I don't know why he's coming back
to them.
  I'll let him keep his secret. I won't
make him explain.
  Nobility shouldn't have to comfort its own sacrifice.
  The gelatinous golden ocean, rolling beneath a
golden sky, provided a romantic
backdrop for their final moments. Somehow Kira had
no inner turmoil, which surprised her. Being strong
... she'd expected it to be harder.
  He was so happy, though, standing at her side,
gazing out at those other creatures without the slightest
self consciousness at his solid condition or the life
he had led as a solid. She was happy too.
  comI didn't expect it to be so beautiful:"
she told him.
  Odo indulged in an all-too-solid sigh.
"It is, isn't it?
  You know, Nerys, I am going to miss them all
... the captain, Chief O'Brien, Dr.
Bashir ... Worf, Dax. . .
  "And Quark?" She grinned up at him.
  He ghimed. "And Quark." He turned to her
now, and looked into her eyes. "But most of all"
comI know." She pressed her hand to his lips.
  They drifted into a kiss, long and heartfelt, a
full escapade not into passion, but compassion. They were
sharing, not adoring, not craving, saying the last digs
they couldn't re ally dWill of in words.
  They were being watched, of course. What would the
Changerings learn from them in this minute? Hopefully,
the one thing they couldn't have between them, no
matter how much they merged and read each others'
minds-unconditional trust.
  When Kira broke back from him, he was "wearing"
a full dress-black tuxedo with a satin bow tie
in place of his pretended uniform.
  She laughed. "What's that form' "You always said I
looked good in a tuxedo."
  "You do!"
  comMen that's how I want you to remember me:"
She smiled again and straightened his bow tie. In a
way, she re ally was sending him off to the prom of a
lifetime, where he would be the center of attention and all
would listen to his proclamations. He would give them
no alternative, she knew. His resolve
fairly pulsed with a supreme self-confidence she
had never witnessed in him before.
  It was contagious.
  "I'll remember this moment for ever," she offered.
  "I'll remember all our moments."
  "As will like."
  Oh, he was getting uneasy. Time to break off.
  "Goodbye, Nerys:" he told her, probably
sensing the same sudden urgency.
  She squeezed his hand. "Goodbye, Odo."
  Wisely, he simply turned and
strode into the mercurial sea. As the searching tide
of his fellow Changelings lapped at his knees, he
turned and waved one last time.
  As Kira waved her own hand, before she lowered it,
Odo released his humanoid form and melted into the
golden sea.
  She stood alone on the atoll, but not alone at
all.
  Kasidy Sisko sat on the couch in the quarters
she had shared with her husband and knew that things had
changed irrevocably. The room, normally so
sprawling and empty, was filled with friends and
colleagues who desperately wanted answers. In
fact, they were rather more desperate than she was. She
already had part of the answer they were seeking. She knew
this was a turning point.
  "Thanks, Jake." she murmured, "but I'm not
hungry."
  Jake Sisko had hovered over her for hours
now, bringing her tea, now a tray of food,
muttering hopeless reassurances, promises, and
vows to search endlessly, suffering the troubles of a young
man who re ally hadn't experienced much of the
vagaries of lie in space. He had always been
safe, living his life pretty much on this
station, protected by those around him.
  Kasidy was a space capuffi. She knew
better. She knew this feeling of dread, an instinct
laden deep within on her long tour of merchant
duty.
  Some losses couldn't be grabbed back.
  She had that feeling now.
  "You need the nourishment."
  Dr. Bashir.
  She looked up at him from her couch. His
sympathy was very moving.
  Those are doctor's orders," he added with a
pathetic attempt at a smile.
  I.someffiffig's happened to Ben"" she said.
Everyone in the room turned at that one. They stopped
pacing, quit moving, quit taujng, and simply
held still in that terrible reahmtion that this was something they
couldn't fix, despite all their combined ability and
technology the wonders of modern anything.
  "I can feel it;" she added. "Something bad...
Ezri came and sat beside her. "We don't know that
for sure," she offered weakly.
  "We've searched all through the Fire Caves
Worf spoke up, his frustration like all his other
emotions, right on top for all to see.
  "There's no sign of him:" "Here," Julian
Bashir appeared at her side again with a hot mug.
  "Tarkalian tea. Very soothing."
  "Better keep it coming," Ezri quietly told
him.
  Jake was confronting Worf. "You're not calling
off the search are your" "Not until we find your
father."
  "What about the Kendra Provincer' Jake
suggested.
  His desperation also showed, but had reached neither a peak
nor the resignation Kasidy ahady felt
  "Where he bought all that land ... maybe he went
there for some reason:" "Colonel Kira and Chief
O'Brien have just completely another scan of the
planet. As far as they can tell ... he's not
therecc'But ut his runabout!" Jake protested, swinging
to O'Brien. "You said you found it orbiting the
planet!"
  Poor O'Bnen, standing there helpless, pzing into the
fearful eyes of the captain's so at "I wish I
had an explanation. . . ."
  "We will keep looking for the captaincc"...Worffaled
in when the engineer faltered. comI pron use you andW
as he said on the search to generations to come,
to enhanced technologies, better scien (i they still
wouldn't find him. He wasn't anywhere that living
corporeal beings could possibly look.
  Why did she feel so light? As if she were
floating.
  "The Prophets warned us ... they said we'd know
nothing but sorrow..... She leaned her head back
against the rim of the couch.
  They could look forever, Kasidy that. They could
actually do that The people around her faded into the wall, the
wall drifted into the corridor, the Promenade and
its many levels dissipated, and she was gazing at
clouds as white and fluffy as Earth's beauffw
northern mornings.
  She blinked. Suddenly frightened, she felt her
bearings falter. Her balance-was she standing? She
hadn't been.
  Yes, she felt her feet, her legs.
  "Hello?" she murmured. "Is anyone there?"
  Her own heartbeat bumped reassuringly. One of
them was alive, at least.
  The wind blew gently, touching her ears, running
like fingers in her hair, down her shoulders.
  "Ben? Is that you?"
  Was he calling to her?
  Iris voice, deep and resonant, as if he
were speaking inside a cave "Kasidy."
  "Ben to ,"
  She turned, found him in the mist, and ran into his
arms. Her husband!
  He was solid, real. His amis-she felt the
muscles, she felt them bend to hold her, warm and
secure.
  Whatever this was, it wasn't death.
  "Where are we?" she asked, as if the answer would
make all this be real and right.
  "At the entrance to the Celestial Temple."
  Oh ... that told her too much.
  She backed away. "The Celestial Temple
... then I'm having a vision."
  "That's right"" Ben told her. He wasn't
going to tell her any false wishes or treat her
like a child. At leas that.
  "Ms is scaring me, Ben , she attempted.
"I want us to go back to Deep Space Nine."
  Worth a shot, wasn't it?
  Even as she said it, she knew the answer.
  "I can't;" he told her immediately, without
fulls.
  It was the destiny he had been born for,
the mysterious truth that had been masked by his human
existence.
  How the cloudy beings who called themselves the
Prophets would have a link to the hymg, breathing worlds
they could only observe.
  comOh, my God:" Kasidy breathed.
  "It's difficult to explain. It isn't linear
.... My life, my destiny-We Prophets
saved me so that I could be with them."
  "Be with them?" she repeated.
  Ben took her arm, then her hand in both of Ins.
"comMy have so much they want to teach me:" She
felt like she was froze could barely force out the words.
"How long will you be goner He hesitated. "Time
doesn't A terrible breath rattled through
Kasidy's body, proving to her that she was alive and
re ally here, not unaglning aBut this in a muddle of
grief or fatigue
  What was all that supposed to mean? Tune
doesn't exist here?
  What was he andong to say?
  "Iben this is the sorrow the Prophets warned us
about?" she whispered.
  She wanted him to say it.
  "It's difficult to say . .
  exist here."
  He smiled. His dark eyes were soft beacons for
her.
  "Kas-I'll be back."
  "When?" she persisted.
  "It could be next year." He smiled suddenly,
with an understanding she didn't share. "It could be
yesterday.
  But I will be back."
  She heard the grim determination in his voice and
knew he would find a way to make it true.
"I'll be waiting," she premished.
  She thought he took her in his arms once more, but
now she was back on the couch, her arms tingling from his
touch.
  "Kas?"
  That sounded like him.
  No, the voice was ... younger... "Can you hear
me? Kas?"
  Jake bent over her, looking relieved as she
blinked at him.
  Everyone else was looking too. Worf,
O'Brien, the doctor, Ezri She was back with
them. Had she ever left?
  "You seemed pretty far away for a
second:" Julian Bashir said, bending over
her.
  "Not that far," Kasidy told them. She looked
at Jake, and for some reason she found herself smiling.
An unworldly contentedness came over her. Like the
wives of a million space captains and
adventurers and great men of past times, she would find
herself called upon to raise his children and be their guide
alone, benchmarked by the high standard Ben Sisko had
set for them.
  She could do that. As she gazed at Jake, she
saw in his youth the bright hope of the child within her, a new
chance for the future, and somebody to be with.
  "I was talking to your father," she said.
  They would wait for him.
  "Today's duty roster, Colonel was Kira
Nerys looked down from Deep Space Nine at the
distant orb of Bajor, and noticed that it was morning
over her home provence. Everydung was dawning. A
whole new day, a new life.
  She took the padd from Nog and scanned it.
Everything was back in order. The day-today procedure
of station activity was the best therapy she could
imagine, not only for herself but for everybody here.
  The military had something, she decided,
to its order and sense, in the strict utility of rank
and process. Somehow it helped everybody to have
duties, watches, purpose.
  "Nice work:" she told the young Ferengi. "And
congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant."
  Nog seemed a little small and uneasy to be
carying such a big rank.
  "Thatand you, ma'am," he said. "I guess
putting me in for promotion was one of Captain
Sisko's last official acts."
  "I'm sure he's very proud of you, Nog."
  "I'd like to think so, ma'am."
  Kira deliberately didn't say "was."
She didn't believe Sisko was dead.
  Nobody did.
  Was he watching them? Now, there was a disturbing
thought: no, he probably wasn't acting as some
kind of mystical voyeur. They were free to have
privacy, and to make mistakes without a big daddy
watching over them. He wouldn't have wanted that for himself
and she was betting he wasn't eying them from the ethereal
plane. He probably had his own duties out there,
somewhere, teaching the Prophets a thing or two about
life.
  That made her smile.
  But back to work. "Now, about the cargo
inventorie"" Nog stepped back. "I'll get
right on it!"
  He raced out of the room, delighted with his new
job as station adjutant. A big job, a mighty
station, very busy and getting busier as the sector
stabilized.
  Starfleet was actually enjoying itself, and so was she.
  She too was proud of her own promotion-to station
commander, carrying the authority of both the Bajoran
military and Starfleet Command. It was a singular
honor, and she was gratified by their faith in her.
  They were showing faith in Sisko, too, she
recognized, by giving her this post. He had trusted
her, and that was good enough for Starfleet.
  She appreciated their judgment. She could do the
job.
  comWell, not from here.... Ops. She suddenly
wanted to be at the pulsing heart of the station, to spread
her wings and re ally take over, to make sure they
all knew that she was here to catch the ball.
  The ball!
  There it was-Captain Sisko's little dutiful
baseball, sitting on its stand where he had left
it, giving a whole new meaning to the
phrase, "You can't take it with you."
  She plucked the bail into her hand and tossed it in
the air and caught it a couple of times. With that, the
mantle had shifted fully to her.
  She'd never dared to touch it before.
  He must approve ... she thought he was smiling
on his cloud someplace out there in a universe much
bigger even than it seemed to be.
  Managing to hold herself down from a run, she
strode in amiable satisfaction to ops and plunged
right in to the bleeping, humming center of activity that
made Deep Space Nine a living place. In
her hand the baseball was warm and solid. She
rolled it in her fingers and scanned each post, taking
solace in the steady information streaming from all over the
quadrant to this single beacon in the dari mess.
  All around her at every station were new faces, young
officers and trainees ready to tackle the next
chapter "m the conquest of the final frontier. Over
there was the new chief of engineering. Beside him was the new
tactical sergeant, and speaking to the new life
sciences coordinator was the new chief constable of
station security.
  They nodded a polite greeting to their commander as they
noticed her watching them. This was their time, and
hers.
  "What do you think?"
  Julian Bashir had babbled away the morning
after spending the whole evening amsferring the Alamo from
the O'Briens" old quarters to his.
  And a bloody tight fit it was.
  Despite a decidedly sour note to the move,
the Alamo's presence in his quarters somehow
galvanized the idea that he was on his own for a while,
without Miles.
  Across the table from him in the replimat, Ezri was
picking at her breakfast, with her mind obviously
on something else. Her short dark hair reflected
the overhead lights, separating them into the spectral
colors green, blue, red, and yellow and making her
eyes seem bright.
  "What do you think of my new medical supply
systemThat' he asked. "I've reworked the whole
storage process."
  She blinked up at him. She hadn't been
listening. "I den maybe tonight, after ennner, we could go
to Quark's ... maybe spend some time in the
holosuites."
  Bashir thought about that. "I wouldn't mind a little
trip to Vegas."
  "Actually," Ezri corrected, her eyes
crinkling,
  "I was thinking about the Alamo."
  Sounded like a nice idea. Obviously she was
trying to help him through this, working on adjusting the
future to be as full as the past few years had
been, even generously trying to replace the close
friend who was no longer here with him.
  But he shook his head. "We can't go there."
  "Why not?"
  He thought about coughing up some excuse, but the truth
kept bubbling up and ultimately would do just as
well. Probably because she already knew it.
  "that was something Mhles and I did " Would she
understand? She was the repository of more than a dozen
life forces, all those memories, relationships
... she'd understand, more than most, wouldn't she, that one
person, no matter how loved, simply could not
replace another?
  "But:" he said, brightening, "we could try my new
program. The Battle of Thermopylae:" She
gawked at him, her fork in midair. What? No
human lifetimes luriang around in there?
  Of course not. She hadn't heard of that.
  "You know," he attempted, "where a
small band of Spartans led by King Leonidas
defended a mountain pass against the vast Persian
army?"
  "That happened?" she asked.
  "For two days, the Spartans put up a heroic
struggle:" "Until they were wiped out."
  "How'd you know?"
  "Lucky guess. I take it we'll be the
Spanw?"
  "Fighting to the last man!" Bashir proclaimed.
  "Just like the AlainoThat' "Exactly!" He
thumped the table.
  Ezri put her fork down and sat back.
"Julian, have you ever talked to a counselor about these
annihilation fantasies you seem to have?"
  Bashir blinked. Hadn't thought of that one.
  "You think that should?" he asked.
  "I'll set up a session for us tomorrow."
  Hmm ... how very enticing. A doctor and a
Trill getting together to discuss annihilation ...
oh, that was better left alone ... but why was she
leering that evil glare at him?
  He leaned forward. "And tonight?"
  She smiled broadly, her eyes crinkling with
unshielded happiness and commitment.
  "Tonight ... we defend the pass!"
  Commander Kira of Deep Space Nine swand the
Promenade with a purpose and vectored into Quark's
bar, feeling somehow fulfilled at the mundane
duty she was about to discharge.
  Over there. Quark.
  He was arguing with Mom. He had Ins back
to her, so she strode up without announcing herself and
listened to the last couple of blurts.
  "comThat'll be ten strips of latinum-I know, I
know, I'll put it on your tab. Don't worry!
It's guaranteed to grow hair within a week! If you
ask me, your dome's hairy enough as it is. Besides,
hasn't there been enough change around here ahxandity?"
  "Vmk!" Kira swung around in front of him and
wagged a padd in his fhce. "Do you mind explaining
thisr" Quark's knobby eyes flashed.
  "That's this week's betting pool."
  Kira huffed with insult. "You're taking bets
on who's going to be Bajor's new Kai?"
  He spread his arms. "It's a wide open
field! Just between you and me, the smart money's on
Vedek Ungtae."
  Lowering the padd, she scowled at him. "Well,
just between you and me, all bets are off."
  "What are you tallandong about!"
  "As of this moment:" she said, "betting pools of
any kind are illegal on this station." Oh, that
felt good! "I catch someone placing a bet, you'll
spend fifteen days in a holding cell. Is that
clear?"
  Quark looked shocked, then leered at her
suspiciously.
  "Holding cells? Ah ... let me think.
Fifteen days ... can I brink my own pillow?"
  "Quark!"
  "It's clear, it's clear."
  "It better be."
  Quark shook his head as he slid away. "It's
like I said. The more things change, the more they stay the
same:" Kira smiled. She let him go back
to work. It felt good to do something so mundane and
normal as chewing out Quark and telling he couldn't do
something. Anything.
  After a few days, she'd let him take bets
again, but after the new Kai was appointed. Some things
shouldn't be matters of lot.
  Strolling out onto the Promenade, Kira
experienced an overwhelming sensation of peace and
satisfaction.
  This alien station, once the very exemplar of
despicable for her-a Cardassian outpost in
claimed space 208
  comM
  was now itself the embodiment of how things could change
for the better. Despite its Cardassian design,
this was a Starfleet station, a Bajoran holding, and a
supreme victory for them all. They'd taken it,
they'd lost it, they'd regained it, and now it was
secure. The presence of Deep Space Nine
secured the whole sector, indeed the quadrant.
She believed now that it would never again fall.
  She paused on the walkway overlooking the lower
Promenade. Below, people freely roamed the shops,
paused to talk smiled, cried, comforted each other, and
went on their ways. They all knew things were
unconditionally different, but that somehow this was the brink
from which they would all leap to the better.
  There ... that was where she and Odo had walked on
their way to their last voyage together, where they had linked
anus in a way that his native people could never imagine
or know how to enjoy.
  Over there, on the second level, Worf and
Ezri sate together with Chancellor Martok, on the
path to the docking pylon where the Klingon
ships were serviced.
  Martok was doing all the talking. Worf and
Ezri were looking at each other in silence. Worf
carried his duffel bag. His bat'leth was slung
over his shoulder. Kira imagined what Martok was
saying-@nthusiasms about the future of the KH-NGON
Empire ... great hunts and good songs ... but
Worf wasn't listening. He turned instead, gazed
at Ezri as he never had before, and all of them, even
Kira way up here watching, began thinking about
Jadzia.
  Somberly, Worf removed his bat'leth from his
shoulder and handed it to Ezri. A parting gift at o
her who knew what it was to be his wife.
  Kira shivered with emotion, and had to look away.
  As her eyes scanned the vast sweeping
walkways of the station, they fell upon another quest
for the fu Chief O'Brien shooing his family down the
ramp toward Airlock Four. His own bags were
slung on his shoulder, together with several more bags that
must belong to his children. Before him ran Molly, while
Keiko carried the baby and nipped orders at two
yeoman who were carrying sfiu more bags and boxes.
  Kira watched the little face of Kirayoshi and
tried not to remember what she had promised
herself she could forget-he undying tie between herself and the
O'Briens. That was a family she had helped
build. She had to force herself not to call out to them before
Keiko and the children disappeared under the walkway she was
standing on. Now there was only O'Brien, shuffling
along with all his burden Oh, there was Bashir,
catching up to him, taking a couple of the bags from him.
Then the doctor caught O'Brien by the elbow and
stopped him.
  They were too far down there for Kim to hear what they
were saying-not much, judging by what she saw.
  In fact, they seemed to be having trouble speaking
at all to each other.
  She understood. After years here together, what words
could be enough?
  She thought of Odo.
  Bashir was making O'Brien put his bags down
for a moment. Kira squinted as the doctor put
something into O'Brien's hand. What was that? A good
luck charm?
  Then she recognized it ... it was one of those little
figurines from the Alamo model they'd worked on
together. O'Brien had showed it to her proudly-little
Colonel Travis, the brave commander of the losing
side.
  O'Brien smiled and his cheeks reddened. He
didn't know what to say, so he was saying nothing.
Shoring up his resolve, he nodded, and extended a
hand to shake.
  Bashir put out his own hand and clasped
O'Brien's.
  See ya.
  Kira shook her head and smiled at them
scoldingly, but before she could shout an interruption that
would embarrass them both, they had done her job-they
were locked in a bear hug.
  Much better.
  She settled back and turned away to the other
side of the walkway, letting them have their last moments
in privacy.
  There were other people to watch, people who were staying on
Deep Sp'e Nine. Putting one hand on the
rail, she gazed downward custodiajly at the
customers coming and going from Quark's and the other shops
below They were hers to protect now, hers to understand. She
would help them if she could.
  As she scanned the Promenade viewports,
windows that showed the open panorama of space, she
saw something that did disturb her at the of the people here she
probably couldn't help.
  On the second level, Jake Sisko stood
at the viewport, staring out into open space where the
wormhole lurked in its other dimension. The boy
stared out into it.
  A man looked back, but it was his own reflection
in the viewport penna glass.
  Kira moved quietly to stand beside him. Together they
watched as the wormhole magically burst open, its
giant drain swirling and rushing, and a messenger ship
from this side effortlessly slid inside.
  The first of many. A whole new realm of
possibility.
  They stood together, thinking the same thoughts, two
small beings on a great statioA ONLY a dot
of Light on the ceiling of the space cathedral, but a
star of hope for all who looked.