Rising Son

by S. D. Perry

  After a moment, Brad started to sniffle again, and Pif scooted across to where she sat, and laid his head in her lap, telling himself that she needed the comfort, not minding at all when she rested one massive hand against his brow.

  20

  THEY STAYED with Itu for three peaceful, lovely days, and on the third day, it was time to leave. The Eav’oq were waking, returning, and though their visitors were offered an indefinite stay, Opaka could see that Itu’s people needed time to renew their lives.

  After promising to be in contact again soon, after another long, warm embrace between Opaka and Itu, they left the Eav’oq at the edge of his beautiful city and started for Tosk’s ship. Wex and Jake flanked Opaka silently, steadying her as they moved across the unstable rock surface. Opaka let herself be steadied, let herself be led, her mind full of other things.

  Raiq, for one. The Ascendants were who had persecuted Itu’s people; after listening to his descriptions, Opaka no longer had any doubt. What Itu called Eyes of Light, Raiq had called Eyes of Fire…and the Bajoran people knew them as Tears of the Prophets. It seemed obvious to her now, the “fortress” in the stars, the all-seeing gods—but was it any wonder that she hadn’t recognized Raiq’s frightening religious views as related to her own? She hadn’t told Itu about meeting Raiq, hadn’t wanted to worry him overmuch, but wondered what it would mean for the Eav’oq in the future…and what it might mean for Bajor. That a being from the race that chased the Eav’oq into hiding had been responsible for her freedom…it was too great a coincidence. Will of the Prophets.

  As it must be Their will for Bajor and Eav’oq to stand together, if Raiq’s people should come this way, Opaka affirmed to herself. Whatever happened now, the Eav’oq wouldn’t be alone.

  As happy as she was to have met Itu, to have learned of the Siblings, Opaka felt more than a little overwhelmed by the implications…and wasn’t sure how the existence of a “sister” planet would sit with the Vedek Assembly, or the Chamber…or the people. Having met Itu, having felt his radiant pagh, she believed that it could only lead to an expansion of awareness for Bajor…but even after seven years abroad, learning to loosen her definition of what it meant to love and be loved by the Prophets, she still found it difficult to accept that the relationship between the Prophets and Bajor was not a singular one. It was one of the first tenets of the faith, one of the first things taught to children—that the Prophets were for Bajor, that Bajor was for the Prophets.

  And yet…the Emissary was an alien. She’d known and accepted from the beginning that he was connected to the Prophets in a way deeper than any Bajoran. Had that itself not been a sign that They saw more than Bajor only?

  Now there are the Eav’oq, Opaka thought, leaning against Wex as she helped her over a slick patch, smiling absently, gratefully at the girl. Only fifty years ago, an awareness of the Eav’oq would have been welcomed, she thought. But as she’d told Itu, the Cardassian Occupation had changed things. The Bajor she’d left behind had barely touched upon the healing process, and though it had pained her to tell Itu, to admit as much to herself, the systematic abuse and degradation of her people had left them with wounds and suspicions that seven years would not, could not have erased.

  To complicate matters, there were a few fundamental differences in the way the Eav’oq worshipped…primarily, that they didn’t. There were no rituals to their meditations, no holy days, no…separateness. Itu and his people believed that the pagh—or the res—inside each of them wasn’t just from the Siblings, they believed it was their own Siblinghood, developing. They believed in reincarnation of spirit…and that each Eav’oq spirit would one day transcend to the Temple, to become a new Sibling, to watch over the young Eav’oq still on their planet.

  It was a lovely faith, and there were things in it that Opaka felt strongly could only further Bajor’s understanding of the Prophets…but it was different, very different, and sometimes—particularly in matters of faith—that could be a difficult thing.

  But to know that the Prophets have reached out to others, Opaka thought, feeling renewed hope. It was an example to be admired and followed. The Bajoran people were more than capable of opening themselves to experiences beyond the realms of their own lives.

  She put the thoughts aside and glanced at Jake as they approached the Tosk ship. He wore his carry bag slung over one shoulder, his young face still and a bit sad. He’d said very little since the departure of his friends. She still wasn’t sure why he’d decided not to go with the Even Odds, but she was glad for it; prophecy or no, it seemed right that they should return to the Alpha Quadrant together.

  Wex opened a hatch at the front of the Tosk ship and looked inside, turning an apologetic gaze to both Opaka and Jake.

  “It’s going to be very tight,” she said, and Opaka smiled at Jake, and shrugged.

  “I take up very little room,” she said. “How about you?”

  She won a smile from the tall boy, who gestured grandly for her to crawl into the ship first. With a last look back at the still and shining buildings of the Eav’oq people, Opaka obliged.

  The Tosk’s ship wasn’t unbearably cramped, but it was close. Jake’s knees were pressed against the back of the pilot’s seat. Opaka was right next to him, the two of them sharing the one tiny bench directly behind Wex’s seat, their few belongings shoved underneath next to an entirely foreign tool kit.

  At least it’s fast, Jake thought, smiling resignedly at Opaka as Wex powered up the vessel, as they lifted away. The Hunters had equipped the ship with hardly room enough for one, but with a warp drive unlike anything Jake had ever seen. They’d be back in the Alpha Quadrant in moments; in the shuttle Jake had traveled over in, even with the system shift, it would have taken hours.

  The ride through the ice storm was jerking and uncomfortable, but Wex was a surprisingly good pilot, taking the small ship through its paces as she dodged through the spinning fields. They were hit a few times, but Wex managed to avoid anything really big, and they were clear in a matter of moments.

  “Nice flying,” Jake said, impressed. Wex nodded, but said nothing. Jake wondered if Dez would have been impressed, seeing the tiny vessel clear the hazard so deftly…and decided probably not; Dez was a terrible pilot, if the stories were to be believed. Jake smiled inwardly, and found that it hurt, a little, but not nearly as bad as he would have thought.

  Except…

  What Dez had said about Jake’s father, about Jake never having the relationship he wanted. For a few seconds, he felt an all too familiar panic creep up in his gut. What if he never comes back? What will I do?

  “Are you all right?” Opaka asked gently.

  Jake nodded again, not sure if he meant it…and Opaka smiled, shaking her head slightly.

  “You’ve done a wondrous thing today, Jake. You should be proud.”

  Jake waited, certain that she meant to tell him that his father would also be proud…but it didn’t come. She only continued smiling at him, and it occurred to him that he had done a wondrous thing, or at least been involved in it. He’d found a lost world of myth and moved it—a whole star system, apparently—light-years away from where it had been, waking a sleeping race of mystics to a new universe.

  And being Ben Sisko’s son had nothing to do with it. Or maybe it did…but it felt good, anyway.

  He smiled back at Opaka. “Thanks. I guess I am.”

  “Going to full sublight,” Wex said, touching a button—

  —and a loud, high-pitched whine filled the tiny space, getting louder and higher, and the vessel trembled violently all around them.

  “Shut it down,” Jake said automatically, saw that Wex was already doing it—and though the trembling immediately stopped, the whine continued to grow in pitch and volume, fast. After only a few seconds it was a piercing shriek, and the ship began to shake again, worse than before.

  “What is it?” Jake shouted, saw that Wex’s hands were flying over the controls, that nothing was making any difference
at all.

  “I don’t know!” Wex shouted back, and he could barely hear her.

  Jake looked at Opaka, saw her eyes closed, saw her lips moving in prayer as the mechanical shriek drowned out everything, even his own scream at Wex to do something, to do anything. It was happening too fast, the vessel was going to come apart, and Jake tried to reach for the tool kit, helpless to do anything else, and couldn’t manage that, the space too tight.

  We’re going to die, Jake thought, and there was a light, and it was over.

  It was silent, she could move…and she was on a floor. Opaka opened her eyes, and saw that she was on a transporter pad, Jake sprawled next to her, Wex in front of them.

  “What happened?” Opaka asked, disoriented.

  Jake carefully climbed to his feet, and helped Opaka to hers. Wex stood up and joined them.

  “Don’t make any sudden movements,” Jake said, his voice tense. He moved so that he was in a position to shield Wex and Opaka, presumably from the two creatures who watched them from the shadows of the sparse, low-lit room.

  Across from them was a control stand manned by a tall, reptilian being, another standing at the room’s door, loosely holding a weapon across his chest. They were reptilian, but not at all like Tosk. Where Tosk’s face had been wide-eyed and rounded, these beings had angular heads, beaded with blunt spines. Their eyes were small and dark and hooded, the casts of their faces fierce, angry. Each wore a clear, slender tube in its throat, sputtering with a white substance. Opaka had never seen one before, but had heard many stories…and had little doubt that she was looking at Jem’Hadar, the Dominion’s soldiers.

  The door to the room slid open, and in walked a small, well-dressed man, very pale with black hair and wide, innocent violet eyes, and a kind of flesh collar that surrounded his smiling face. At the sight of him, Jake’s entire demeanor changed. His mouth dropped open, his shoulders sagging in surprise.

  “Weyoun!”

  Weyoun bowed his head. His voice, when he spoke, was strangely breathy, his manner simpering and insincere.

  “Jake, my dear friend,” he said, his eyes shining. “It’s been too long! And who are your friends, if I may ask?”

  Jake wasn’t over his shock. “But…I thought you were dead!”

  Weyoun clasped his hands together. “An interesting and educational story, my dearest friend, but we have so little time. Suffice it to say, some things serve too well to let rest. I so very much hope that you and your companions weren’t injured…?”

  Jake’s expression darkened. “Did you do something to our ship?”

  Weyoun looked deeply wounded. “We merely saved you from it, its engines exploded scant seconds after we transported you out.” He smiled again, the wound forgotten. “But you still haven’t introduced me…”

  “And how did you just happen to come across our ship, when it was on the verge of exploding?” Jake asked.

  Weyoun’s smile barely faltered. “We’ve…been pursuing another ship, a ship of thieves and smugglers, with which the Dominion holds legitimate grievances,” he said. “Just as we were preparing to apprehend these criminals only a few days ago, circumstances changed, quite suddenly. It seems the planet you were on, the planet that was uninhabited until quite recently, has…altered things, to say the least.” Weyoun’s gaze flickered nervously over Opaka and Wex. “Even as we were preparing to leave, we saw your vessel, saw that it was in dire straits…and saw that it had a Bajoran and a human aboard…”

  Jake was watching him closely, as was Wex. They obviously didn’t trust the little man…and though Opaka was not one to judge lightly, neither did she. He seemed most disingenuous.

  Weyoun smiled, showing small square teeth. “Well, we had no choice, did we? We were forced to set our own business, our legitimate business aside, to let those…terrorists loose. For how could we disregard a chance to lend needed assistance to old friends from the Alpha Quadrant? To do the decent, the honorable thing, even in times of crisis and change? And as luck would have it, we’ve detected the approach of the Defiant, and are presently moving to intercept it.”

  “The Defiant?” Jake asked. “They’re in the Gamma Quadrant?”

  “As I said,” Weyoun said. “A fortunate coincidence, is it not?”

  “Yeah, right,” Jake snorted.

  The wounded look was back. “After all the times we shared on your station, Jake, you doubt me. Such wonderful times! Tell me, do you still write? I remember your stylistic flair so fondly, those superior articles you wrote for the Federation News Service…”

  “You—your clone said they were biased,” Jake said. “You intercepted them before they ever left the station.”

  “Truly a joy to read,” Weyoun said, as though Jake hadn’t spoken.

  “The Defiant is in range,” the Jem’Hadar behind the control stand said. “Sensors indicate there is a Founder aboard.”

  For an instant, a flash of suspicion crossed Weyoun’s face…and then it was gone, and he was smiling again, the consummate host.

  “I’ll handle the call from the bridge,” he said, nodding again at Wex and Opaka before turning his attention back to Jake. “A delicate touch is necessary for these matters, don’t you agree? If you’ll remain on the transporter pad, I assure you that you’ll be back in familiar territory very soon.”

  Weyoun backed toward the door, clasping his hands to his chest once more. “It’s my misfortune, not to have more time to spend with you and your friends. I…I hope that we shall all meet again, soon, under the best of circumstances. And please…extend my warmest personal regards to your father, if you see him again.”

  With that, Weyoun bowed his way out of the room, the door closing on his beaming, sentimental face.

  “Who was that man?” Opaka asked.

  Jake stared at the closed door. “That’s a tough question.”

  “The Defiant…these are friends of yours?” Wex asked.

  Jake smiled suddenly, as if surprised into it by Wex’s question, a purely happy smile. “Yes. They’ll take us back to the station, to DS9. You can get a transport to Bajor from there.”

  Opaka, too, was surprised into a sudden smile. Bajor. She was going home.

  Epilogue

  AS THEY WAITED for Weyoun—Weyoun!—to arrange for transport, it occurred to Jake for the first time that he’d lost his bag, that it had burnt up along with the Tosk ship. The prophecy had been in it, a few books, some clothes…and his journal, which he’d started the day he’d left DS9. Everything that had happened to him in the Gamma Quadrant was in it.

  No, everything that happened is in you. Never forget, it’s about the experience…and having a good story to tell when you’ve been drinking.

  Dez’s voice. Jake smiled a little, thinking about some of the stories he had to tell. He’d have a little half brother or sister soon, very soon…and he suddenly envisioned sitting with the child someday, telling them all about the time he’d tried to raid the underground lair of the Drang, or about the secret subdeck of the Wa, or maybe cautioning them against the perils of too much spinewater. By the time the child was old enough to listen, who knew what else he might have to say? Helping alter the face of the Gamma Quadrant was definitely a promising start to a whole series of good stories.

  “Prepare for transport,” the Jem’Hadar at the controls said, and Jake straightened his shoulders, and took a deep breath.

  THE DEEP SPACE NINE SAGA

  CONTINUES IN

  UNITY

  About The Author

  S. D. (Stephani Danelle) Perry writes multimedia novelizations in the fantasy/science fiction/horror realms for love and money, occasionally in that order. She’s worked in the universes of Resident Evil, Aliens, Xena, and most recently Star Trek; she had also written a few short stories, and translated a couple of movie scripts into books. Danelle, as she prefers to be called, lives in Portland with an incredibly patient husband and their two ridiculous dogs.

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