by Judith
The Vorta's smile was smug. "Which brings us to this rock." He stamped his foot
against it. In seeming response to Weyoun's action, a few of the workers below
him gathered around one end. They all held small tools, whose purpose Garak
couldn't quite make out.
"A year ago, dear friends, our scientists constructed this rock—that's right,
constructed. And then a group of brave believers traveled back through the Orb
of Time to an age before the founding of B'hala, and there buried this rock in
stable ground."
Suddenly the workers jumped back from Weyoun's
pulpit rock, as a section of it fell off with a loud pop as if something under
pressure had just opened. Garak leaned forward with the others to see the
hollowed-out area now visible in the boulder.
"You don't suppose ..."
"Will you be quiet," Odo said.
Weyoun was still atop his pulpit "As you can see, this is not just a rock.
Instead, our scientists carved into it with microtransporters and then installed
within it the most stable and precise passive sensors. Sensors that could not be
detected by our enemies' scans. Sensors that for almost twenty-six thousand
years have waited patiently for us to reclaim them."
Weyoun slid down the artificial boulder to join the workers at its open end. He
glanced over at Sisko, and then spoke loudly enough for the rest of the
prisoners to hear. "Now, I can tell what you're worried about, Benjamin. What if
we're altering the timeline by opening this prematurely? Could we be setting a
predestination paradox in motion?" The Vorta shook his head. "Of course not.
The Ascendancy has far more respect for the natural order of things than does
your Starfleet."
Weyoun's workers busied themselves removing long, metallic cylinders from the
boulder's interior. The silver objects gleamed in the blinding light from the
space mirrors, as if they were freshly minted and not millennia old.
Garak was exhilarated by the spectacle the Vorta had provided for their
enjoyment. But he decided against sharing his delight with Odo. Really, the
changeling just had no idea how to enjoy the moment.
"No, Benjamin," Weyoun proclaimed. "The reason
we are opening the deep-time sensors today is because yesterday, Starfleet's
timeship began its voyage. And interestingly enough, your son was on it. Jake.
Should give him something interesting to write about, don't you agree?"
It was impressive to Garak just how well Captain Sisko was controlling his
anger. The human had never appreciated his offspring's involvement with the more
difficult events on Deep Space 9. Garak wondered if he would have an opportunity
to remind Sisko that perhaps it was for the best that Jake escaped the coming
end of everything by being safely ensconced in the past.
"So," Weyoun said triumphantly; Garak was relieved to sense the Vorta was
finally coming to his conclusion—despots so rarely understood there were a few
occasions on which less was more. "What Starfleet has done, was done long ago,
and because of our patience the timeline is intact. And as we play back the
sensor records of the past, we will be able to chart the location of each bomb
the crew of that ship placed beneath us— here, in the unexplored regions of
B'hala. And though Starfleet's plan was undoubtedly to ignite those bombs during
the final ceremony to be held here, destroying half of Bajor in the process,
even now ships of our own Ascendant Starfleet are in orbit above us, waiting to
transport each bomb away and disperse it into deep space."
Weyoun bowed his head in pride. Held his fists to his shoulders. "Praise be to
the True Prophets, may they show our enemies the errors of their ways." He
looked up and nodded at the workers with the sensors. "You may examine them
now."
"This should be very interesting," Garak said to Odo.
"Why? Because Weyoun has figured out a way to stop a last-ditch plan to save us
all?"
"The plan's not ruined yet," Garak admonished the changeling. "After all, if /
had designed the bombs Weyoun is looking for, I'd have buried them in pairs so
that any chance observation would make someone think there was only one to each
location. And then I'd make certain they were all set to go off the instant any
of them was hit by a transporter beam. This entire city could be reduced to
molten slag any moment now—a bracing thought, wouldn't you agree?"
Garak relished the sudden look of consternation that disturbed Odo's smooth
features.
"Oh, relax, Constable. If we do go up in a fireball of apocalyptic proportions,
at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that the universe has been
saved."
"You're right," Odo muttered acidly. "I feel so much better."
"That's the spirit." Garak beamed as he watched Weyoun's workers hold all manner
of tricorders and other devices near the deep-time sensor arrays. From time to
time, he glanced over to see Sisko in intense conversation with Kira and Arla.
Rom and O'Brien were also engaged in a fevered conversation, no doubt
reverse-engineering the sensors just from their appearance and Weyoun's
description of their capabilities. But Quark was looking positively bored and
stood to one side, alone.
"What a remarkable day," Garak said aloud, not intending the words for anyone
but himself. "What a remarkable life."
"Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?" Odo asked.
"Often," Garak conceded. "Though after we've discussed it in private, it turns
out they always have meant it in jest. Interesting how people can be persuaded
to change their minds, wouldn't you say?"
Odo rolled his eyes, obviously not willing to be baited. Garak joined him in
watching the work on the sensors.
It was over in less than twenty minutes.
And then Weyoun turned to Sisko with an expression of sadness, and again spoke
loud and clear for posterity. "Oh, dear Benjamin, I am so sorry. But the
sensors show that no bombs were ever planted here. There are no transporter
traces, no residual tractor-beam radiation trails, no sudden alterations in the
gravimetric structure of the region,... nothing. It appears that Starfleet's
mission has failed, and your son Jake ... well, I am so sorry. But the wages of
disbelief are—"
Sisko threw himself at Weyoun, and Garak's pulse quickened. There was nothing
quite so uplifting as seeing what a parent would do for its child.
But before Sisko could reach the Vorta, Riker had tackled the captain, bringing
him down in a cloud of dry dust
The two humans wrestled for a few moments on the edge of the excavation, but it
soon became disappointingly apparent to Garak that Sisko was merely venting
anger, and that Riker had no desire to make an example of him.
In less than a minute, Riker was back on his feet again, brushing sand from his
atrocious uniform. Sisko sat still on the ground for a moment.
And then, quite unexpectedly—or so Garak thought— Weyoun went to Sisko and
offered him his hand.
It also appeared that Weyoun was saying something to the captain, but this time
the Vorta's words were inten
ded
only for Sisko. And most unfortunately, the angle of Weyoun's face was such that
Garak couldn't read his Ups.
"What a charming gesture," Garak said, annoyed. The Vorta was playing by the
rules.
But then, predictably, Sisko rebuffed Weyoun's offer of help and pushed himself
to his feet without assistance, in a whirl of dancing dust.
Garak's eyes narrowed as the Vorta reacted graciously by simply clasping his
hands to his chest and bowing to Sisko, as if to say no offense had been taken.
But just then a giant gasp arose from all the prisoners and the workers, as
Captain Tom Riker threw himself across the two-meter distance between himself
and Weyoun and propelled the Vorta howling into the pit—
"Well done!" Garak exclaimed. He'd underestimated Riker.
Transporter hums filled the air, and waves of Grigari soldiers suddenly
materialized, surrounding the area. Their bone-spur claws dug into the
prisoners' robes, forcing all back from the pit that had claimed Weyoun and
Riker.
"So much for Ragnarok," Odo said.
"A bit anticlimactic, though," Garak observed critically.
And then Weyoun rose up from the depths of the excavation, floating, arms
outstretched, supported, it seemed, only by a softly glowing halo of red light.
"What is that?" Odo asked in shock.
Garak frowned. "What else? A Pah-wraith inhabiting the vessel of a linear being.
Riker should have anticipated that."
Predictably, Odo glared at him. "A good man has died trying to save us!"
Garak was hardly in the mood for an argument. But then, neither did he intend to
let Odo have the last word. "That 'good man' once worked for the Maquis. And
knowing what I know about the Pah-wraiths, he is not dead yet."
As if on cue—a happy accident of tuning but which Garak much appreciated all the
same—Weyoun men dropped a hand to the pit below, gesturing as if giving a
command for something else to arise.
That something was Tom Riker. Breathing hard. The bright blood streaming from a
long gash on his head turning his white beard red.
Riker's left leg was also not hanging straight, and Garak could see a small,
sharp glimmer of white against his dark, red-stained trousers.
"Compound fracture of the femur," Garak explained helpfully to Odo, who of
course lacked any bones whatsoever. "Quite painful, I believe."
Weyoun drifted to the side of the pit and stepped gracefully onto solid ground.
Riker remained suspended in midair, above the pit, his body in spasms, bubbles
of blood forming at the corners of his mouth. A possible punctured lung, Garak
thought. He turned to share this observation with Odo, but the changeling was
looking elsewhere.
Sisko had his hands on Weyoun and they were having a heated conversation. At
least, the human was heated. The Vorta looked detached.
But it seemed even a Pah-wraith did not have unlimited patience, and finally
Weyoun flicked his hand at the human and a blinding flash of red light sent
Sisko flying backward into the sand.
Then Weyoun imperiously gestured again into the
pit, and a moment later a red strand of rope shot up and coiled out of it like
the unfurling tongue of an immense unseen amphibian. Another rapid hand movement
from the Vorta, and the sinuous rope snaked around Riker's neck.
The floating human grabbed at the rope, tore at its tightening coils, his one
good leg kicking out for freedom.
A gasp from the horrified onlookers caught Garak's ear and he turned to see
Quark suddenly stagger back, hands at his own neck. The Ferengi was obviously
reliving some unpleasant memory. Garak frowned. An interesting development to
be sure, but not in the end as intriguing as the one featuring Weyoun and
Captain Riker. He turned his back on Quark.
To see Weyoun raise his hand high and Riker float higher, his struggles
lessening, the mysterious rope looping in the air beside him.
Weyoun dropped his hand, and Riker dropped but the rope did not. It flexed and
snapped tight, breaking only as its burden was sundered at its weakest point,
and Riker's head and body plunged into darkness— separately.
"Showy, but no subtlety," Garak murmured.
Odo's face leaned menacingly into Garak's. "I don't want to hear another word
out of you!"
Garak sighed. He had been intimidated by experts, rarely successfully, and
certainly never by a mere changeling sworn to uphold justice. Swearing such an
oath, in fact, had worked to undercut a great deal of Odo's authority, Garak had
always believed.
"What I meant, Constable, is that there was no need for Weyoun to behave so
crudely. After all, he has won.
He can't be killed. And Starfleet's attempt to travel through time has obviously
failed. He could have left Riker at the bottom of the pit to bleed to death in a
dignified fashion. Instead, we've all been treated to a quite unnecessary look
inside a troubled mind."
Odo stared at Garak in disgust. "You see something like... like that and analyze
it?"
"Someone has to," Garak said. "And I do think it might be worth pointing out to
Captain Sisko mat Weyoun clearly has a weak spot in his personality. One that
might conceivably be exploited to our benefit."
"And what weak spot would that be?" Odo growled, as if he couldn't believe he
was engaged in this conversation.
"I think it might be wise to let the emotions of the moment dissipate," Garak
said kindly. "You've been through a considerable strain."
Odo drew back as if he'd been slapped. "And you haven't, I suppose?"
Garak was tired of being questioned hi this way. Hied of Odo's attitude. He
looked from side to side and put on his best bland face—the kind that struck
such terror into poor, sweet, gullible Dr. Bashir. "Odo... whatever we saw here
today, remember this. I've seen worse."
Odo clenched his jaw, clearly wanting to say something more but just as clearly
unable to bring himself to.
And Garak, oddly, found himself struggling not to add the words, And so have
you—on the Day of Withdrawal.
Now, why would I think that? he wondered. There was no way he could know what
Odo might have seen or not seen when the Cardassians had withdrawn from Bajor.
Unless...
"No," Garak said aloud. Odo looked at him, not understanding. But even Garak
didn't understand this time. The universe was coming to an end. Nothing mattered
anymore. Not the death of Tom Riker. Nor the Day of Withdrawal.
Nor even how his own lost memories from that final day on Terok Nor—
—when the Obsidian Order had come for him...
—when Terrell had taken him to the room...
—where ...
"Garak?"
Garak stared at Odo, and for a moment it was as if the changeling was wearing
his old clothes, the short cape and rough fabric from the time before he had
donned the uniform of the militia, from the time before...
"Garak? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Garak forced himself to smile. "A touch of vertigo. Nothing a good
apocalypse can't extinguish."
Odo's eyes narrowed. "It seems you're not as
tough as you let on."
"I'm not," Garak said firmly. "I'm tougher."
And then Weyoun summoned the Grigari guards to come for them and the other
prisoners, to lead them away from the pit back to the shuttle that would return
them to Empok Nor, the restored Gateway.
And Garak, who knew there was no point in thinking of the future, and who could
not think of the past, devoted himself to thinking about only the moment and
the glorious view of Bajor, as the shuttle climbed above the clouds and into
space.
There might well be many good things in this universe, he knew. But in his
experience, bad things had far outweighed them.
The end of everything would be a good thing.
He would finally be free of the horrors of his past.
Maybe he wouldn't tell Sisko about Weyoun's weak spot after all.
CHAPTER 21
nog dropped a battered piece of metal onto the table in the unfinished
conference room of the Phoenix.
It was a dedication plaque.
Its significance was lost on Jake, who looked at Jadzia and Bashir to see if
they understood.
From the expressions on their faces, they apparently did.
Jadzia was the first to pick up the plaque and study it closely.
Jake noticed that Karon, the Romulan centurion at the head of the table and the
leader of the team that had taken control of the Phoenix, was studying Jadzia
just as intently, as if she expected some type of treachery.
After a few moments, the Trill passed the damaged rectangle of metal to Bashir,
then looked at Nog. "I take it you've run a complete molecular scan to be
certain it's not simply a replicated copy."
"I studied it atom by atom," Nog said. "It is the same plaque that is now on
display on the bridge of this ship, except it is 25,627 years older. And, of
course, its condition has been somewhat altered by... a variety of mishaps."
Nog's hesitation raised in Jake the desire to know exactly what those mishaps
had been. He looked quickly at Centurion Karon, but she didn't seem to have
noticed the pause in Nog's delivery.
"So the Phoenix crashes on a moon in the Bajoran system," Bashir said angrily.
"That could mean this ship was damaged after we deployed the deep-time charges
and we scuttled it where no one would find it"
Nog laid his hands on the tabletop and spoke forcefully. "Doctor, the Romulans
have recovered almost forty percent of the ship. There are components from all
