by Judith
has researched the matter in precise detail."
The Ferengi pressed on, even though the flood of details was beginning to sweep
over Jake like a thought-smothering wave, and he knew the overload had to be
affecting the other survivors of his time the same way.
"We know," Nog continued, "that the first structures of the city known as B'hala
were built approximately twenty-five thousand years ago. Approximately twenty
thousand years ago, general knowledge of the city's location was lost for about
five thousand years. Then, about fifteen thousand years ago, the last temple was
built on the site, and it was swallowed by landslides. Until," Nog nodded at
Jake, "Captain Sisko rediscovered it less than thirty years ago.
"According to our latest intelligence estimates, less than one-third of the city
has been excavated under the Ascendancy, which means whoever goes back to the
city's beginning will know exactly where to hide the deep-time charges in the
remaining two-thirds to ensure that they will not be discovered over the
millennia to come."
A question broke through the fog of disorientation in Jake. "Nog, why
twenty-five thousand years? Why not go back ten years? Or a hundred?"
"A fair question," Nog said. "First of all, the Phoenix would have to go back at
least a thousand years, to be sure that no early Bajoran space travelers or
astronomers detected the ship arriving at warp speed or orbiting the planet for
the three weeks it will take for the deployment of the deep-time charges."
"Okay, then go back fifteen hundred years," Jake said.
"And you wouldn't need a large starship for that kind of trip," Jadzia added.
Nog shook his head at the both of them. "No. The point is not merely to go back
in time and deploy the charges. It's to go back and deploy them without
introducing any changes in the timeline. That means B'hala must remain a lost
city until Captain Sisko finds it hi 2373.
"Remember—a team of Starfleet engineers will be working in the Ir'Abehr Shield
for three weeks, and they have to be able to do so without attracting any
attention. Admiral Picard has told us that the only way to be sure that our
activities won't inadvertently lead to the early discovery of B'hala is to go
back to a time be-fore B'hala."
At that, Captain T'len stepped forward as if she were impatient. "The targeted
time period is most logical."
"And what about the choice of crew?" Worf asked sternly. "Is that also logical?"
Jake saw something in Worf's eyes that made him think there was more to the
question than there appeared to be. Captain T'len's hesitation in answering
confirmed his suspicions.
"That argument can be made," she said at last.
Then Bashir again articulated what Worf must already have guessed. "It's a
one-way trip, isn't it."
Nog drew himself up, a gesture at once like and unlike the Nog familiar to
Jake. "Most likely," the Ferengi said stiffly—but proudly too, Jake thought.
"Yes."
"Most likely?" Bashir repeated incredulously.
Nog's voice took on a more determined tone. "The Phoenix, Doctor Bashir, is the
largest starship ever constructed. It will survive a twenty-five-thousand-year
temporal slingshot. But all our simulations show that neither her spaceframe nor
her warp engines will survive the stresses of a return trip."
That was when Jake saw the logic of it for himself. He and the others from the
Defiant were already misplaced hi time. So what would it matter if they were
misplaced somewhere—sometime—else?
And he wasn't the only one to reach that realization.
"So we're expendable," Vash said angrily. "That's it, isn't it? We're a danger
to you in this time, so you want to send us off on some high-risk wild norp
chase and get rid of us." She leaned forward to jab her finger against Nog's
chest. "Well, you can tell your Starfleet admirals that I'm not going."
With a forcefulness Jake knew the Ferengi would
never have attempted in Jake's time, four days ago on DS9, Nog grabbed the
anthropologist's hand and pushed it aside. His answer to her was almost a growl.
"It is a volunteer mission."
"Captain," Jadzia said quickly, diplomatically defusing the sudden increase in
tension in the room and returning their attention to what must be faced, "there
still has to be more to the mission than what you've described. Once the
charges are deployed, what are we... what is the crew of this new supership—the
Phoenix—supposed to do? They certainly can't interact with any culture in the
past."
"Absolutely not," Nog agreed, with a grateful glance at the Trill officer. "But
Admiral Picard did suggest a course of action that might allow you, or perhaps
your children or grandchildren, to return to the present." He looked over at
Bashir. "As I said, Doctor, it is likely that the mission of the Phoenix will
be one way. But it is not certain."
Then Jake, together with the others, listened intently as Nog described Picard's
plan as confirmed, he said, by extensive studies conducted by the Federation's
leading surviving experts in archaeology, biology, and ancient astronomy.
The essence of it, Jake realized, was that almost fifteen hundred years ago—and
7,000 light-years from Earth—a main-sequence star had gone supernova. The
expanding gas cloud from that awesome burst of energy became known to Earth
astronomers as the Crab Nebula, But to the astronomers of Erelyn IV, that same
cosmic explosion was the last thing they or their fellow beings ever saw.
Erelyn IV itself was a Class-M world, home to a race of humanoids that was one
of the first to develop inter-
stellar travel—though not warp drive—in the present epoch of the Alpha Quadrant.
But—and Nog emphasized this point—the planet was only twelve light-years from
the Crab supernova, and the radiation released by that star's explosion had been
lethal to all life-bearing planets within fifty light-years.
Jake remembered learning about Erelyn IV in school. His instructors had referred
to the lifeless, crumbling cities and vast transportation networks of that
planet to stress the importance of exploration and discovery. Because the
radiation had sterilized Erelyn IV without destroying the buildings, libraries,
and technology of its people, the Vulcan archaeologists who had studied the
planet for generations had been able to reconstruct Erelynian history in
unprecedented detail.
Sadly, the Vulcans also learned that at the time of the supernova, the
Erelynians had a prototype warp engine under construction in orbit of their
world. Had the funding battles their scientists fought against their world's
shortsighted politicians been successful only a few years earlier,
faster-than-light probes to the Crab star would have revealed the existence of
the supernova before the radiation had reached their world, giving them time to
construct underground radiation shelters. Had Erelyn IV's politicians permitted
warp research to proceed a mere fifteen years earlier, that would have been
enough time for the Erelynians to establish colonies on planets outside the
Fifteen lost years. The lesson had been taught to all children in the
Federation: that such a short period of time could be all that might stand
between planetary extinction and survival. The moral had been clear: Be-
tween thinking about one's next term in office and thinking about the next
generation was a difference in attitude that could save an entire world—or
condemn it.
The people of Erelyn IV had paid the ultimate price for their leaders' lack of
vision. But they had left a poignant treasure trove of almost ten thousand years
of their history—including, Nog explained, a complete map of the Crab star's
solar system as it had existed before the supernova, as charted by sublight
robotic probes.
"The Crab star had seven major planets," Nog now explained. "The second from the
star was Class-M. The Erelynians' long-range scans showed a standard Gaia-class
oxygen atmosphere, indicating a biosphere. But the scans they made also showed
no signs of industrial pollutants; nor did they record any electromagnetic or
subspace communications."
"So that's where you want us to go," Bashir said. He wasn't asking a question,
and Nog didn't bother to do more than nod in response.
It was clear to all present that Nog was coming to the final part of the plan.
"The Phoenix will be able to make the voyage between Bajor and the Crab star in
under two years. The ship is stocked with industrial replicators,
nanocon-structors, and complete plans for building a duplicate vessel to bring
you home."
"How long?" Worf asked bluntly. "For the nanocon-structors to build a ship
without a shipyard and Starfleet work crews."
Jake saw an almost invisible wince twist Nog's features. "Our best estimate is
... forty-eight years."
Now Jake understood why Nog had said their children or their grandchildren
might make it back.
"A great many things can go wrong in forty-eight years," Worf said.
"Which, obviously, is why they picked that world," Bashir said lightly. "If
something goes wrong and we can't travel back to this present, then even if our
descendants spread out across the world, in the year 1054 A.C.E. everything
turns to superheated plasma in any case when the sun explodes. As long as we
stay on that world, we will have no interaction with the march of history
throughout the rest of the galaxy."
"Exactly," Nog said. He turned to Captain T'len, as if he had said all that was
necessary for now.
But Worf had another question. "You have not thought of every eventuality. What
if we fail to build a second Phoenix, and our descendants first revert to more
primitive ways, then develop a spacefaring civilization of their own. Twenty
thousand years is more than enough time for that to happen, and for our
descendants to travel to Qo'noS or Earth and change history."
"Commander Worf," Nog said with what Jake thought was an odd formality, "I
assure you that we have thought of every eventuality. And what you describe
cannot happen."
Jake didn't understand, but it seemed Bashir felt he did. "There's another bomb
in the Phoenix," the doctor said. "Set to go off... a century ... ?"
Startled, Jake looked from Bashir to Nog. His friend's face was sad but
resigned. Bashir's guess was true.
"... After we leave," the doctor said slowly as he spoke his thoughts aloud.
"Probably something that would set up an energy cascade in the atmosphere of the
second planet, killing all higher animal life-forms in that world, but leaving
the bulk of the ecosystem unharmed."
But now Jake was thoroughly confused. "But... why would we leave the Phoenix
anywhere near the planet if we knew it could kill us? Or our descendants?" he
added.
"Because," Captain T'len said with a stem glance at Nog, "everyone who takes
part in this mission will understand and accept the importance of not changing
the timeline. As Commander Worf stated, many things can go wrong in forty-eight
years. Thus the crew of the Phoenix will leave their ship in close orbit of the
planet as a fail-safe backup, to ensure that none of their descendants survive
to form their own civilization."
The room fell silent once more, and Jake knew that everyone in it was
contemplating as he was the enormity of what was being proposed to them.
After a few moments, Nog spoke again. "Admiral Pi-card set this all in place
almost five years ago, and the plans have been continually refined and perfected
ever since."
Jake looked over at Bashir, but the doctor seemed not to have anything more to
say. Everyone else from the Defiant, with the exception of Vash, was making
silent eye contact with their fellow temporal refugees. Vash simply glared at
Nog and T'len as if they were personally responsible for thwarting her.
"Captain Nog, we would like time to consider your proposal," Worf said.
"I understand," Nog agreed. "But I would ask that you make your decision within
the next fifty hours, so we can arrange passage to Utopia Planitia and I can
begin your training."
Jake heard something odd in Nog's voice then. "Nog, are you going?"
"So you think it's going to work."
For the first time in the session, Nog smiled broadly. "I have absolute faith in
Admiral Heard. I have reviewed all the operational plans and contingencies. I
have no doubt that the mission of the Phoenix will succeed, and there will be
no need to worry about the safeguard time bombs. I am completely confident that
someday I and the crew ... or our descendants ... will be able to return to the
present and the universe we will have saved."
Nog then said his good-byes, explained that he had meetings to attend, and hoped
that he could meet everyone again at 1900 hours for a meal. Then, with the
unsmiling Captain T'len at his side, he left.
Instantly a buzz of responses filled with new hope swept through the room. But
Jake didn't join in, although Nog's presence on the Phoenix did change the
equation for him personally.
Jake was in the midst of trying to comprehend the best thing to do.
Because he had seen his Ferengi friend give that same assured smile at least a
thousand times in the past. And it had always meant only one thing.
Nog was lying.
So the Phoenix was already doomed.
And with her the universe.
CHAPTER 12
"captain sisko! You've been ignoring me!"
Benjamin Sisko snapped out of Ms reverie and sighed. He was sitting at an
uncomfortable Klingon work station in his uncomfortable Klingon quarters on
board the uncomfortable Klingon vessel, the Boreth. Kasidy Yates was looking out
at him from the work station's main display screen. Her image was a stern,
unsmiling portrait; it was the one that had been attached to her merchant
master's license.
The annoyed voice haranguing him belonged to Quark. It came from the open
doorway to Sisko's quarters.
"This isn't the time, Quark," Sisko said quietly, and meant it. Nevertheless he
heard the sound of Quark's brisk footsteps as the Ferengi crosse
d over his
threshold.
"In case you haven't noticed, time is what we're running out of." The irate
barkeep was now at his side,
hands on hips, looking quite ridiculous in his Bajoran penitent's robes of brown
and cream.
"Everything will work out," Sisko said, still not raising his voice, surprised
at how little irritation he felt at Quark's ill-timed intrusion. Then again, he
wondered, was it even possible that he would ever feel anything again?
"How can you say that?!" Quark exclaimed. "The whole universe has been turned
upside down! Did you know the entire Ferenginar system has been under an
Ascendancy trade blockade for the past seven years? No one on this frinxing ship
will even let me try to get a message through to anyone back home."
Sisko bowed his head, took a breath so deep he knew it would strain his chest,
but still felt nothing. "Quark, we are all struggling with similar
difficulties."
"Ha," Quark said. He pointed to the display. "At least you can access some sort
of database to find out about..." Quark's verbal assault on Sisko suddenly
ceased.
Sisko glanced up at him and saw that the Ferengi was reading the screen.
"I'm... sorry," the Ferengi said quietly, all bluster gone from him. "You know,
I... I always liked Captain Yates."
Sisko nodded. "She was only one of many, Quark. So many people died when Earth
was destroyed." He closed his eyes then, but Kasidy's face was still before him.
At least, the old report said, she had gone out a hero, during her fifth run
through Grigari lines to evacuate survivors.
"Captain... ?"
Sisko opened his eyes, looked up. "Yes, Quark."
The Ferengi mumbled a few words that were unintelligible before finally getting
to the point in a sudden rush. "We need you."
Sisko contemplated Quark, curious. He couldn't remember ever having seen the
Ferengi so uncertain, so obviously worried.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he told the Ferengi barkeep, "but if you
listened to Odo's report about his run-in with Weyoun, I am the one person among
us all who you definitely don't want."
Quark rocked back as if surprised by the statement. "Are you saying you believe
Weyoun about Starfleet wanting to kill you?"
Sisko pushed his chair back from the workstation and stood up, leaving Kasidy's
