by S. D. Perry
The city directors had planned well. The open stage was on a low rise, looking out over a wide field, great lengths of freshly baled kava stalk acting as impromptu seating for those who wished to sit . . . though as First Minister Asarem, Councillor zh’Thane, and Admiral Akaar approached the table where the documents would be signed, Kira couldn’t see anyone sitting. The massive crowd moved and pulsed, a living, breathing thing, watching with grand expectation. Kira could feel it emanating from the families and farmers, the city people, from everyone who’d come—a warm, rising wave of anticipation, of resolution at hand.
The stage was overflowing with Bajoran and Federation dignitaries. Vedek Yevir and a handful of his cronies were representing the Assembly, their expressions stern and serious, and there were a number of high-ranking member officials from both the Chamber and the Militia. Opaka Sulan stood near Yevir, smiling serenely, her grounded, peaceful expression as different from Yevir’s as day from night. A lot of people wanted Opaka to reclaim her position as kai, Kira among them . . . but that was a resolution for another day, perhaps. For now, the joy of feeling her earring restored to its proper place reaffirmed her belief that all things were possible.
She shifted from one foot to the other, unable to hold still. Odo reached out and took her hand, squeezing it comfortably. She squeezed back. Though they hadn’t talked about it much, she knew he wasn’t going to stay. He spoke of progress within the Link, but it was also clear that there was still much to do. While it lasted, though, she meant to enjoy every minute of it. She no longer doubted that they’d be together, someday, and that was good enough for now.
Next to Odo, Taran’atar stood stiffly, his head high, as he’d stood next to Wex almost the entire time she’d been on the station. Odo had mentioned that the Jem’Hadar had expressed interest in returning to his own kind, but had admitted also that he hadn’t yet learned “everything” about the peoples of the Alpha Quadrant. He’d be staying a while longer than Odo, Kira suspected.
Next to Taran’atar stood Ro Laren and Quark, both looking mildly uncomfortable in their new outfits. Kira could see that the Starfleet uniform was chafing Ro a bit, figuratively, at least, but her chin was up. Quark—Ambassador Quark—had decked himself out in lavish purple pants and a specially made sparkling gold vest with matching leg bands, easily outshining the Grand Nagus to his right, an obviously pregnant, smiling Leeta on Rom’s arm. Rom and Leeta looked very happy. Kira noticed that her own security officer and the bartender were standing fairly close together, but decided not to speculate any further. The rumors were bad enough.
Maybe these things just have a way of bringing people together, she thought, scanning the rest of the stage. It was a diverse enough group, to be sure. Ezri and Julian were joined at the hip, as usual, standing near Taulin Cyl and Hiziki Gard. Gard was only a meter away from Trill’s president, who was expected to pardon him after a mandatory trial; the First Minister had already signed his extradition. Ambassador Worf and Chancellor Martok had made the journey, standing near Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his senior staff. Kira spotted Natima Lang and Gul Macet among the Cardassian contingent, and Vlu, who’d received a Starfleet commendation for her work during the parasite crisis . . . and was also supporting a fairly hefty crush from Sam Bowers, whose gaze kept wandering across to the petite Cardassian. No one had expected that, but stranger matches had been made.
Commander Vaughn and Prynn Tenmei were both onstage, Prynn doing her best to look as though she belonged there. She wasn’t a senior officer, but Vaughn had insisted . . . and though neither seemed entirely at ease, they were together, at least; more than could be said for Councillor zh’Thane and her son. Shar stood a good distance from his parent, near where Nog and Jake were exchanging grins over something or other. Although Shar wasn’t smiling, he seemed more at ease with himself than he’d been since returning from the Gamma Quadrant, too. Kira was glad to see it.
General Lenaris stepped to the table, joining Akaar and zh’Thane and Asarem. A ripple of good-natured laughter moved through the crowd as he searched for a pen, the general’s face flushing slightly in spite of his wide smile. Standing at the foot of the stage, Kira saw that both Yoshi and Molly were giggling, though their parents quickly hushed them, Miles slipping an arm around Keiko’s waist as they watched. They’d begged off stage duty, Keiko worried that the children wouldn’t want to stand still for any period of time. The O’Briens would be going back to Earth in a few days, to pack; then they’d be off to Cardassia. It seemed that Keiko had accepted a job there, to assist in Cardassia’s agricultural renewal. Kira had been surprised by the news, but the Chief had assured her that he was looking forward to a little more chaos in their lives.
At the front of the stage, Lenaris had signed his name on both “official” documents of induction. The hardcopies were for show, of course; the binding documents were all part of multiple computer and comnet systems by now, witnessed behind the scenes shortly before the ceremony had begun. Kira knew better, though; until people had actually experienced the pride that accompanied such a grand change, witnessed it with their own eyes, nothing was truly official.
Kira looked for, and found, Benjamin Sisko, not far from his son, his arm around Kas’s shoulders. She held their sleeping daughter against her breast, glowing as only a new mother could, barely able to take her gaze from their beautiful baby. Benjamin was watching the signing with a look of pure pleasure, his eyes sparkling. As Admiral Ross jotted down his own signature at the table in front, the final endorsement, Ben turned and looked directly at her. He nodded, a slow, sure nod, his thoughts as clear as if he’d spoken them.
We did it, he said.
Kira nodded back, smiling, wiping at the single tear that had spilled from her wet gaze. Yes, we did.
Ross held up his copy of the document; Asarem did the same, and a mighty roar rose up from all those who’d come, their faces radiant in the late sun, their voices glorious in triumph.
EPILOGUE
THEY HAD A FINE DINNER. BEN MADE CREOLE, THOUGH JOSEPH INSISTED on doing the roux himself, convinced that kava flour needed the attention of a master. They all stayed up late, talking, laughing. Dad wandered off to bed after a time, Jake doing the same not long afterward, a handful of holovids and a bowl of jumja ice accompanying him. Judith followed, pronouncing herself too full of creole to stay awake. They’d all be leaving soon, too soon; Jake had gained some very adult perspectives in his brief absence, and was itching for some space to stretch into, to explore further. Jude and his father both had lives to get back to. He would miss them, but was glad for the time they’d shared, and for the time they had left.
While Kas gave Rebecca her last feeding, Ben closed everything up, savoring the simplicity of it all. He loved the house, loved shutting the doors and windows, loved turning out the lights and feeling its quiet spirit settle in for the night. It was the house he’d dreamed of, and that Kas had built it . . . it was all the more special, knowing that what she had done was out of love, out of a readiness to be his family.
They went to bed, talking softly about nothing important as they got ready, as they slipped beneath the coverlet and Kas tapped the light panel at the headboard. Outside, a gentle wind blew across the silent fields. They held hands, facing each other, their fingers touching beneath their sleeping daughter’s feet. Ben took a deep breath, inhaling the warm, baby scent of her, feeling it fill him up. Kas smiled, at Rebecca and then at him. He smiled back. In her sleep, Rebecca splayed her fingers, then relaxed them.
This is home, he thought, watching as Kas’s eyes closed, listening as her breath became deep and even, much slower and deeper than Rebecca’s. A part of him would always be in the Temple . . . but he was where he belonged, where he needed to be.
And where I’ll soon be needed. The Prophets had revealed as much before letting him go. What was happening, what was going to happen to Bajor and its people, was of great importance to Them. His role wouldn’t be easy; he’d need the help of
old and new friends. Kira, of course, and Dax . . . and Eli, who’d been set on a course by the Prophets that led him to DS9, that sent him to meet Benny in the Temple. Because he’d needed help, himself . . . but also to remind Ben of his own humanity, to show him how to follow his lifeline back to his own people.
Elias, he reminded himself. Elias Vaughn. He smiled. The commander had already called him “Benny,” more than once.
All that was later, though. Soon, but not now. For now, he decided that in the morning he’d make a big breakfast, flapjacks and eggs and juice, fruit and sausage, coffee . . . maybe he’d talk Dad into doing up a fine batch of his spicy home fries, too, Jake loved them . . .
Life was in the details, he thought, and thinking it, fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, at one with himself and the people he loved.
THE SAGA OF STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE WILL CONTINUE
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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.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Perry, S. D. (Stephani Danelle)
Unity / S.D. Perry.
p. cm.—(Star Trek, deep space nine)
“Based upon Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and Star Trek: deep space nine created by Rick Berman and Michael Piller.
1. Space ships—Fiction. I. Roddenberry, Gene. II. Berman, Rick. III. Piller, Michael IV. Star trek, deep space nine (Television program) V. Title. VI. Star trek, deep space nine (Series)
PS3566.E7165U55 2003
813’.6—dc22 2003061600
First Pocket Books hardcover edition November 2003
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Cover art by Cliff Nielsen
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ISBN-10: 0-7434-7656-5
ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-7656-0 (eBook)
