Lost Time

by Ilsa J. Bick

  Dax ignored the Vulcan. Her eyes were that color of intense, concentrated brown that bordered on black, and now she drilled Gold with a look. “This is our last chance. The Bajor Assembly formalizes its treaty with Cardassia in less than a day. We have to find the wormhole before then. If we can’t access this device with the Bynars, then we have to go back to Terok Nor and find another way.”

  Gold shook his head. “Not on your life, or mine for that matter. Treaties can be broken. You find this wormhole, and the religious faction is as big as you say? Then Bajor’ll come around. Now either the Bynars can access these…these Prophets with this device, or they can’t. That’d be tough from your end, but that doesn’t mean we can’t adapt the technology for ourselves. You’ll find another way.”

  “But too late to be of any practical benefit.” Dax pulled herself to her full height and looked down at Gold, who was shorter by half a head. “Once that treaty is formalized, then the Cardassians have every excuse to round up the religious sect, herd them into camps and out of public view. Then the Cardassians wait. Enough time passes, people forget, and then the Cardassians get rid of the religion because they won’t want dissension. It will be genocide, Captain. You can’t allow that to happen.”

  “The galaxy’s full of nasty people and bad things happen all the time. Once the Bajorans formalize that treaty, Starfleet won’t want to interfere in a civil dispute.”

  “And pray tell, what is this?” Dax swept a hand around to include the ship, the stolen device. “What, this is just us passing through? Or is it perfectly all right for the Federation to interfere before the treaty’s finalized?”

  Gold shrugged. “You make your opportunities. One of those diplomacy things.”

  “Don’t you mean that the Federation sees an opportunity to develop Bajor as a resource? Uridium brings in a lot of money. Surely, I wasn’t mistaken in my impressions about the Federation being strapped for resources?”

  It was an open secret that the majority of the Federation’s seventy member systems were resource-poor. The Federation had to expand if it was going to survive, and they’d poured much of their available resources into a fleet of starships: window-dressing and a show of force since there weren’t replacements to back them up. The whole thing reminded Gold of mid-twentieth-century Earth with the A-bomb. Drop two and pretend you have a bunch more. On the other hand, the fleet would, at the very least, have a fighting chance at grabbing what planets it could. With its uridium ore and the peculiarities of a loosely worded agreement, Bajor was prime real estate: a jewel in the Cardassian crown that the Federation wouldn’t mind stealing.

  “Yeah, there’s that. But I can imagine a universe without the Cardassians, that’s for damn sure. I’d be tickled pink if the Androssi crawled back under whatever rock they came from. Hell, for that matter, I’d like to get paid more.” Gold planted his fists on his hips. “Starfleet’s in this because we’re allies with Kira. Personally, I don’t care what religion the Bajorans get; they can believe in the Tooth Fairy, for all I care. All we want is Bajor….” He stopped, realizing that last remark had been a mistake.

  Dax’s eyes slitted. “The only reason Kira’s allied with the Federation is that your record of tolerance for others is better than the Cardassians’. You actually seem to care about civil liberties. As long as we’re allowed to devote ourselves to the Prophets…”

  “You? Dax, you’re a Trill. These aren’t your people.”

  “That’s irrelevant. I’m the only one who’s ever communed with an Orb—something you cannot know or understand—and the Prophets have spoken to me. The wormhole is in Bajoran space, somewhere, perhaps in a subspace pocket, and once opened, it will remain stable. All we have to do is find it. Now whether you like it or not, the organized resistance on Bajor is a religious one. It’s that simple. If Kira hadn’t vouched for the Federation, you’d be out of the equation. You need me.”

  “I’d say the need is pretty damn mutual.”

  “Yes and no. Bajor requires what I can bring them. You want a slice of Bajor’s wealth, and we want the right to worship as we please. We want the wormhole, and the wormhole is prophecy, Captain. The truth is in prophecy.”

  Gold barked a nasty laugh. “Yeah? Well, I prophesize that we’re gonna end up as a big plasma smear if we go back anywhere near Terok Nor right now without confirmation of where this wormhole really is. Now I’m glad you’ve gotten religion. I’m ecstatic that you’ve gotten the word that your Prophet buddies are waiting on you to break them out. But get this straight: We take a breather. We make repairs; we meet up with Kira. We hope that 110 there wakes up. Then we’ll see.”

  “You mean that you’ll see if furthering the Bajoran resistance’s goals and those of Starfleet are the same.”

  “Yeah, I think I just said that.”

  “Look,” said Kane, “I hate to interrupt this little lovefest, but we’ve still got a problem here. Either we figure a way to get 110 back in working order, or we can kiss this mission good-bye.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “You ask me, 111’s got to be talked into establishing a link with her bondmate, that’s what. Can’t Bynars, I dunno, repair each other? I mean, they’re essentially computers, right? So, they worry about getting infected, but they’ve also got to have some repair mechanisms. Maybe 111 can reboot him, or something.”

  “But if you observe, Doctor, 110 is in active communication with someone else. His chip,” Salek nodded at the Bynar’s chip that flashed and winked, “indicates intense activity. He appears to have interfaced with someone, or some other system.”

  “It’s a Prophet,” said Dax.

  “Will you give it a rest?” said Gold. “The only person who can tell us who or what is 111. We—”

  His combadge beeped. “Bridge to Gold.”

  He patted the channel open. “Gold.”

  “Incoming message from Captain Kira on the Li, sir.”

  “I’ll take that in my ready room,” said Gold. He nodded at Kane, turned on his heel and left, Salek a step behind.

  Kane waited until the doors to sickbay hissed shut. Then she turned to Dax. “You want to talk to 111, or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it.” Jadzia Dax’s features hardened, the skin drawn tight across her mouth. “They will make contact with the Prophets—and then we’ll go back to Terok Nor, and Bajor.”

  “Gee,” said Kane. “Swell.”

  Chapter

  6

  “Quantum twins?” Gold repeated. “Gomez, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Gomez, wishing the truth was otherwise. “I think that Soloman’s not only found himself. He’s found 111. That’s why he was so eager to reestablish contact.”

  “But eager enough to lie? Soloman’s never lied.”

  “That we know of. Maybe he didn’t have something worth lying about before.”

  “Well, this is a hell of a thing. What do we do now? We can’t just wait around. Ever since he initiated this last link, those wavefronts have increased.”

  “That follows. The channel’s open now, permanently, unless we can get Soloman to break off contact.”

  “Can we do that for Soloman without harming him?”

  “I doubt it. But since we haven’t found anything here, we have to assume that whatever device has initiated, or is potentiating this effect, it’s got to be somewhere else.”

  “In this other universe?”

  “I’d say that’s likely, sir.”

  “What about getting them a message? Ask them to disengage. Can we do that?”

  “Maybe they don’t want to either,” said Gomez. She sighed. “Remember, this is a search program. They’re looking for something. So we’re in the dark until we can figure a way to contact it, or them.”

  “Well,” Nog scratched a lobe, “I might be able to piggyback a signal. Heck, I might be able to slip in the same way Soloman did.”

  “A self-authorizing language?” asked
Gomez.

  “Worth a try.”

  Gold said, “What about destroying Empok Nor’s computer?”

  “That’s kind of drastic. If I can get in, maybe I can shut them both down without hurting Soloman.”

  “If they’re even willing to lis—” And that’s as far as Gold got.

  Suddenly, there was the squall of a red alert—and then a huge boom that was so loud Gomez clapped her hands against her ears. Stunned, ears ringing, Gomez fumbled with her tricorder to see where the problem was on Empok Nor.

  Only the problem wasn’t on Empok Nor. Not that they could see. And when they tried to reestablish contact with da Vinci to find out what was going on, they couldn’t.

  Because da Vinci was gone.

  Chapter

  7

  “Your Bynar’s what?” On Gold’s vidscreen, Kira Nerys’s image flopped back in her seat, fingered her ridges and sighed. “Well, that’s just terrific. What did Jadzia say?”

  He was alone in his ready room; Salek was on the bridge. They were on a secured channel, so he could say what he thought. Kira was good that way; hell of a woman. She was the only Bajoran Gold hadn’t felt like throttling. The other religious types were so…pie in the sky, he wanted to punch in their teeth. “Dax thinks that the Bynars were getting messages from these Prophets or something equally absurd. If you want my opinion, I think the Bynars tripped into an Androssi snare. But try getting Dax to face up to it. She’s being totally unreasonable. Demands we go back to Terok Nor.”

  “That could be a problem.”

  “You’re telling me. You didn’t get shot at. Do you think you can talk sense into her?”

  “Probably not.” Kira took a sip from a tall mug of something piping hot; Gold saw curls of steam. Probably Reman coffee. Wretched drink; the stuff smelled like sweaty feet. “You’ve got to remember that Jadzia did find that Orb, and she does appear to have accessed it before it went dark. But the stories go that only a select few are allowed to commune with the Prophets. So maybe Jadzia’s the Emissary.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “Anything’s possible, David.”

  “Yeah,” said Gold, rubbing the knuckles of his left hand with his right. “And maybe she needs her medication upped. Maybe she’s lying.”

  “She got evaluated, remember? All the psychiatrists say otherwise. The Betazoids swear she’s telling the truth. Anyway, why would she lie? She’s a xenoarchaeologist; she’s Trill. Why should she care about Bajor? There was nothing in her record to suggest she was looking for an Orb, and it was only dumb luck that she stumbled on that Cardassian derelict.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you a little bit that a non-Bajoran is the only person who’s talked to these Prophets? If they even exist, I mean.”

  “I could say that the Prophets move in mysterious ways.”

  “If you want to watch me get sick,” said Gold, “yeah, you could.”

  Kira’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Might be worth seeing. Of course, it bothers me, more than a little. Makes me wonder what we Bajorans are doing wrong. Maybe our faith doesn’t run deeply enough, or it could be that we just like money too much. What about you?”

  “What about me? You mean faith?” Gold’s eyebrows arched for his hairline. “I’m a die-hard pragmatist and card-carrying cynic. I’m just following orders. Starfleet says jump; I say how high.”

  “Oh, right,” Kira drawled. “That’s why you volunteered for this. I think you like rooting for the underdog.”

  “Excuse me, but we are the underdogs, remember? This is a long shot at best. It’s something to which Starfleet could commit a limited number of ships—namely, the Gettysburg. It’s a big galaxy, Kira. Easier fights than this one.”

  “So why aren’t you off somewhere else fighting the good fight?”

  It was a good question. Because he hated injustice? There was plenty of that to go around. Didn’t have to go to Bajor for that, although he couldn’t exactly call the Cardassians unjust. More like benevolent dictators.

  For the Federation, then? No, that wasn’t it either. Gold looked at Kira and saw her passion, the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes; and he thought back to Dax who royally pissed him off—and made him envious as all hell.

  Because I want to believe in something strongly enough that I’d be willing to die for it. His gaze dropped to the gold circlet of a wedding band he still wore, and his throat balled as he thought about a girl with a mane of chestnut hair. Because I’d like to care about something again as much as I loved you….

  Kira must have read his struggle because she came to his rescue and said, “Whatever your reasons, I’m grateful you’re here, David. The Assembly won’t be able to pull together a government to ratify the Cardassian treaty if we can give Bajor a reason not to. Nothing like a little miracle or two to get folks lining up on the right side in a hurry.”

  “That’s all you need?” Gold managed a smile. “I got a miracle lying around somewhere, right up my sleeve. Piece of cake.”

  They fell silent for a moment. Then Kira said, “I’ve got some bad news. Word’s out that the Klingons’ll throw in with the Cardassians.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yup. They do that, all bets are off. The Remans are too busy putting down the Romulans to care, and even with the Vulcans on your side, I don’t think the Federation can help but watch its influence shrink. Then? Maybe we’re all going to start getting used to taspar eggs.”

  “Maybe. What will your people do?”

  “If Starfleet pulls out? I don’t know. I still can’t fathom that the Cardassians might get away with religious genocide. Boggles the mind that other Bajorans would stand by and let it happen just because the religious sect is a minority.”

  “It happens,” said Gold. “Study Earth. It happens. Why not get off Bajor?”

  “Bajor’s our home. We have a right to worship as we please. No, we have to take the battle right to the Cardassians.”

  “With what? Harsh language? You have maybe ten ships? Fifteen? You know, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but most Bajorans don’t care. They’re not waiting around for you to rescue them. The Cardassians aren’t oppressing you. There are no Bajoran slaves. Your government’s in bed with the Cardassians, and no one gives a damn because life is good. There’s money, there’s food; everybody’s happy. So you’ll get yourself killed for nothing.” He rubbed his face with his hands, then scrubbed his hair. His wife used to complain about how he never really learned to use a comb. What would Rachel have said about all this Prophet nonsense?

  Gold wasn’t aware that Kira had spoken until there was an expectant pause. “Sorry. You said?”

  “I said maybe not for nothing. We’re willing to die for our right to worship as we please.”

  “What…are you…are you serious? You’re serious. What, kill yourself to make a statement?”

  “Not just me.” Kira’s voice was hard-edged and sharp as a knife. “We take a couple hundred Cardassians with us, then that’s a statement.”

  “I’m supposed to stand by and let you?”

  “I don’t see how you can stop me. Look, I think we can all agree that the wormhole is our primary objective in terms of yielding maximum dividend. If the Bajoran legends are correct, once the wormhole is open, it’s stable—and whoever opens the wormhole is the One, the Emissary the religious Bajorans must follow. Think about it this way, David: What would happen if your Messiah suddenly appeared? You don’t think your people would notice? I don’t see how Bajor is any different. Believe me, if we get the wormhole open, give something tangible for Bajorans, they’ll think twice about the Cardassians. Even if all we give to my people is a martyr or two that calls attention to our cause. We win either way.”

  “I’m not sure dying’s a win-win proposition. You’ll get people’s attention with a nice, big explosion and a couple dead Cardassians, yeah. But there’s nothing noble in that, Nerys…and don’t even start with that these-are-desperate-times crap
. What you don’t like is the suppression of your religion. That’s your beef. You think you’re going to get people to wake up by slaughtering Cardassians? Killing yourself in the process?”

  “There are some things worth dying for.”

  “Precious few.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Beyond living to fight another day? Not at the moment, no.” Gold sighed. “Just—hold on. Let us try working with the Bynars.”

  Kira stared at him for a long moment. “All right, we’ll wait. As soon as I get there, I’ll have my chief engineer beam over. That ought to speed up your repairs.”

  “Thanks. He’s a good man.”

  “Yes, he is. David, we have to give Bajor something to believe in other than money and science. Deep down a person wants to believe in something greater, whether those are prophets, gods, heaven, hell; angels and demons and everything else in between. Life doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “No.” Gold’s gaze flicked to his ring, and he felt the prick of an old pain in his heart. “But you forgot one thing that’s even more important than being a martyr to a sometime god.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Love,” said Gold, looking up from his memories of a girl who blew a kiss twenty years ago as she boarded a shuttle—and then disappeared without a trace, taking everything that was best with her. “You forgot about love.”

  Chapter

  8

  Nog and Gomez and Hawkins looked at each other. “That didn’t sound good,” said Nog.

  “You’re telling me.” Gomez wasted a few seconds trying to reestablish contact. “Hell.” Then she felt something; no, correction: she didn’t feel anything. Well, not as much anyway. “The rumblings…the station’s not moving as much.” Gomez opened a channel. “Conlon, how you doing?”

  “Deflectors are up and running. I’ve just got to work on this manifold relay circuit and get it to settle down, but I’ve managed to stabilize a portion of the station around the central core and habitat ring. I wouldn’t be so sure about those pylons, though. Anything we feel here is about eighty times worse out there.”