Twist of Faith

by S. D. Perry

  He stepped onto the holodeck just as spring was taking hold and started walking, wanting to get to the clearing before summer.

  All around the trail that led into the thickly shaded woods, buds were forming on branches, flowers were springing up, saplings were becoming young trees. He saw a trio of baby rabbits, and heard fledgling birds crying. The sound and imagery were perfect.

  By the time he reached the fully enclosed clearing he remembered, fresh young life was maturing. Plants were reaching their life peak, fuller and darker, their blossoms most brilliant, insects lazily buzzing past; half-grown animals darted through the trees, killing, mating, rolling on the ground in the sun. There was a sloping, grassy rise in the middle of the open space, a perfect place to sit; Vaughn flopped down comfortably, crossing his legs, watching as the forest evolved.

  Summer, then fall, things dying, changing color, holing up for winter in small spaces. In the winters, it usually snowed. Vaughn didn’t feel the cold air or the gentle sting of the snow, for the same reason it never got too dark to see, or some things grew disproportionately fast or moved disproportionately slow. The point of the program wasn’t to simulate reality, or to simply show a speeded-up loop. It was a backdrop for meditation, the soft sounds becoming a drone of occurrences, nothing so jerky or loud as to distract attention from anything else.

  He saw a white rabbit slaughtered by a white fox, then a thin deer, nosing for something to eat. He heard tree branches snapping, and thunder. And a moment later, the trickle of thaw, and a smattering of pale green crept up across the clearing. The forest evolved for about twenty years, the full program running over two hours.

  Vaughn watched, letting his mind wander. Thinking that he was starting to settle into his new mindset, feeling less exuberant and more thoughtful about his future. Interesting, that he was enjoying his introspection as much as he’d enjoyed his initial flush of vitality. It seemed that being born-again young made everything interesting, the heaviness of his past dropping away like cut ballast; he felt like he was looking up and out after years of staring straight ahead.

  Midsummer, the grasses weaving in a simulated wind. Vaughn was glad he’d decided to tell Picard that the environment at and around DS9 might be unstable. Jean-Luc was more of a straight arrow than Vaughn had ever been, but he was also the kind of captain who lived and died for his crew and ship, a mentality Vaughn respected. Picard had appreciated the warning, and it had cost him nothing.

  And admit it—you enjoyed telling him because you weren’t supposed to. Although he had more discretion in clearance matters than a lot of admirals, the Vaughn of a week ago probably wouldn’t have done it. Because Starfleet officers didn’t do things like that, the chain of command broke down when people didn’t do their jobs; it wasn’t the code.

  Vaughn got to smiling as the autumn rains started to fall once more. At the age of 101, he had decided to stray off the path of absolute righteousness and military ideology because…because he wanted to, and it turned out that wanting to was enough. The cycle playing out all around him reaffirmed his confidence, the feelings of clarity and contemplative objectivity. Life went on, whether he was fulfilled or not; why not do as he wished?

  He thought about what had happened on the freighter just before he’d closed the ark, wondered how it was meaningful. Assuming that approaching the Orb hadn’t caused hallucinations, why had Benjamin Sisko been there? Vaughn couldn’t remember having ever seen an image of him before, and there had been nothing familiar about him at the time. Was it coincidence, that he’d seen the missing captain standing beside the Orb, and that the Enterprise was now on her way to DS9, the station he’d commanded? Of course not. The files Vaughn had been able to access on Sisko had an extremely detailed report about the captain’s disappearance, and where he was presumed to have gone; friends in high places, so to speak. Vaughn was very much looking forward to exploring the noncoincidence a little further, and to meeting some of the people who’d worked with Sisko.

  And with what will be happening at the wormhole entrance in a day or so, unless things have changed….

  The tragedy behind it was too vast to contemplate for long, and he’d known a lifetime of such tragedies—misunderstandings, acts of revenge or simple malice that created more tragedy, by encouraging mistrust, by encouraging hate, always in the name of necessity. Vaughn didn’t think it would come to that; he expected there to be a lot of chest-thumping for a few days among the Allied forces, but saner heads would certainly prevail in the end, no matter what the political climate. They simply didn’t have the energy or the resources to consider anything else.

  The seasons changed, and Vaughn stopped thinking after a while, the low, persistent hum of life lulling and sweet to his ears. Rot and rebirth and rot, hope springing eternal, the end always near. He’d never been much of a philosopher, but some things seemed pretty obvious.

  They had decided to have lunch together in his quarters, Julian knowing the second she walked in that she was ready to talk. Her posture and a micro-expression of anxiety beneath her smile gave her away.

  Don’t push, let her get to it on her own.

  Ezri picked up the plate of salad he’d already replicated for her and sat down on the couch across from him, her shoulders tight. He wished that he understood his own feelings better. He thought about what Vic had said about giving her space, and then about his own frustrations with Ezri’s distancing tactics; she was going through some kind of an emotional change, and he wanted to be supportive, but she’d consistently avoided talking about it—and hadn’t taken any great pains to consider his feelings in the matter, either. Which hurt.

  Julian set his own untouched plate on the low table that separated them. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Still sorry about the other day, though,” she said, and Julian relaxed a little.

  “I am, too,” he said.

  “It must have been so strange for you—”

  “It really was,” he said, relaxing a little more.

  Ezri smiled. “I guess you’ve noticed that I’ve been thinking about some things since the attack on the station.”

  “Since you saved the station,” Julian said, smiling back at her.

  Ezri nodded vigorously, grinning. “Exactly, that’s exactly right,” she said. “Since I took command of the Defiant. Julian, it was such an amazing feeling, tapping my memories for leadership qualities and finding them. It wasn’t a decision, to take command; it was more like a…a reflex.”

  “My” memories. Not Jadzia’s, or one of the other hosts.

  “And as soon as the immediate danger was past, it really hit me,” she continued. “I knew it before, logically, but I’d never really experienced the power of who I am now. Even when I drew from Joran’s personality to help me in that murder investigation last year, I treated him as something separate and apart from me. Now, though…”

  Julian nodded, happy for her excitement. “That’s wonderful. So you’re feeling…more integrated, if that’s the right term.”

  “More integrated, more confident,” she said. “In the last couple of days, I’ve started to get used to the idea, that I’m not limited to the life goals Ezri Tigan set for herself. Not that those were bad things—a nice home, a family, my own counseling center someday. It’s just that I can be so much more.”

  Julian felt his friendly objectivity slipping just a bit. “So, you don’t want those things?”

  Ezri shook her head. “It’s not that, I do want those things, but I have so much to figure out first.”

  Still smiling, she reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You know I never prepared for this life, Julian. Ever since I was joined, I’ve been struggling to figure out who I am, trying to understand where Ezri fit in the totality of Dax. That first year, I honestly didn’t know if I could survive as Ezri Dax, I felt like I was being crowded out by eight strangers whom I somehow knew as intimately as I knew Ezri Tigan. I didn’t know what to do with them
. And worse, I was in constant fear of what they’d do to me.

  “But when I took command on the Defiant, I had this kind of emotional realization—that ‘I’ means so much more for a joined Trill. But I wasn’t just thinking it, for the first time I really felt it—Ezri is all of them, and Dax, and who I was before I was joined.”

  She shook her head again, releasing has hand. “I’ve just come to realize that I’ve been given this incredible chance, to see beyond the reality I grew up believing—that fulfillment comes only through our relationships to others. I never realized how alone I was then, not even considering the internal relationships that being joined could create.”

  Julian felt himself tensing. He didn’t want to drag her away from enjoying her new insights, but it was as though she’d forgotten the nature of their relationship…and was continuing to overlook his feelings, about what had happened during their lovemaking, in what she was saying now. Being in bed with her, looking down to see Ezri open her eyes, to see Jadzia looking back up at him…he couldn’t think of a word to describe how it had been, to feel that she had gone away and left him so vulnerable. That she had frightened him.

  He kept his tone light, but couldn’t entirely erase an edge from his words. “No more internal relationships sneaking up on me, I hope.”

  Ezri frowned, a half-smile still on her face. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…the other night, I was caught off guard, and honestly, I’m not getting the feeling that you understand why that bothered me.”

  She wasn’t smiling at all now. “I understand perfectly. And I said I was sorry, Julian. It wasn’t like I planned it.”

  He could see the fight coming and he made a last effort to stop it. “I don’t want to fight with you, Ezri. I love you. I just want you to tell me what’s happening with you when it’s happening, so I’m not surprised like that again.”

  “I love you, Julian, and I really am sorry. But if you’re asking me to define myself for you…” Ezri folded her arms, and took a deep breath. “I’ve got to figure out what I’m capable of, before I can share it with anyone else.”

  Julian shook his head, amazed, not sure he was hearing what he was hearing. Only a few days ago, they’d made plans to take a small vacation together, still three months away. “Ezri, are you telling me that you want to end our relationship?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, but he was suddenly sure that she was holding back. Her instant of hesitation, the shift of her brow, something.

  “Well, is it that you feel like I’m limiting you?” he asked, starting to get confused.

  “No. I’m—I just want you to let go, a little,” she said, no longer angry, the soft plea in her voice even worse. “Let me decide some things. I want us to stay together, I just need to think about how things are changing, I need—I need you to be patient for a while. To give me some time.”

  He couldn’t be mad at her for wanting his support, but he couldn’t help being hurt by how she wanted it. Time alone, time away from developing their relationship, so that she could decide whether or not she wanted to develop it any further.

  Are we back to kisses on the cheek? To close friends? What were the rules, the boundaries? Julian opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, amazed that the simple truth came out.

  “I want you to be happy,” he said truthfully.

  It seemed to be the point, that keeping love meant maintaining a constant awareness that it couldn’t be kept.

  Chapter Five

  Nog was starting to really like Shar, so when he saw the Andorian sitting at the bar by himself, Nog eagerly joined him. Shar seemed to be just as happy about it, although Nog now knew his smile to be fake; he’d told Nog only yesterday about how humor and expressions of pleasure weren’t big in Andorian society, that smiling was a learned behavior. Nog thought that was weird, but also entirely fascinating.

  It felt good, to feel like Shar enjoyed his company. Nog knew that he was mostly well liked on the station, but his ability to make new friends had never been his strongest selling point. A lot of people in the universe looked down on Ferengi, for their mostly deserved reputation as a devious, swindling species, and it was nice to know that Andorians didn’t appear to be among them. It wasn’t like hanging around with Jake, but Shar was so curious about everything, and he seemed to cast judgment on no one. It made spending time with him kind of fun.

  It was early for dinner, and the restaurant was barely half full. They took a table next to the bar, Nog noticing that Frool seemed to be working alone when he stepped back up to order drinks and food. Shar had agreed to try a root beer.

  “Frool, where’s Uncle?”

  Frool shrugged, turning to get the beers and mugs. “He keeps walking out in front for some reason, staring down the Promenade at something. This is the fourth time today.”

  “What’s he staring at?”

  “I don’t know. It’s down near the security office, whatever it is.”

  Nog turned and set the drinks down on the table, shaking his head. Uncle Quark had been strangely anxious ever since the attack, but not in a way that Nog would expect. If he was worried about another war, why hadn’t Uncle liquidated any assets or sold any stocks, why hadn’t he asked Nog to find him a new escape route? He seemed to be smiling too much, too, acting as though he was…

  It hit him as he sat down, and he laughed out loud. Not anxious, interested.

  “Why are you laughing, Nog?” Shar asked, his soft voice uncertain, as if he was afraid he’d missed a joke.

  Nog leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “I think my uncle Quark might be in love.”

  Shar looked at him seriously. “His love is a source of humor?”

  “The way he experiences it, definitely,” Nog said. “I’m sorry, Shar, I was exaggerating. My uncle doesn’t fall in love, exactly. It’s more like…it’s like he gets very excited about a possible temporary merger. He told me once that he knew he was in trouble every time he caught himself smiling for no good reason. That, or he buys flowers retail.”

  Shar tilted his head to one side, frowning. “He bought flowers for Lieutenant Ro.”

  “Really?” Nog laughed again, lifting his mug. “He’s farther gone than I thought.”

  “You believe he wants to temporarily merge with Ro Laren,” Shar said, and Nog actually choked. Sputtering, he put his drink down and shook his head at Shar, who was perfectly deadpan.

  “That’s exactly what I believe,” Nog said, and Shar nodded. Nog had no idea if Shar had made a deliberate joke or not, but decided not to pursue the conversation any further; they were about to eat. The last thing he needed was to be thinking of his uncle Quark’s romantic hopes for Ro Laren.

  Shar tried the root beer, and liked it. As they waited for their food, Nog recounted a few of the minor adventures that he and Jake had gone through…although talking about his youth on the station reminded him of Jake’s and his science-project field trip. It had been the first time Nog had ever seen a Jem’Hadar.

  He finished his story about the self-sealing stem bolts and fell silent, unhappy that he couldn’t seem to get away from thinking about them. He thought about Vic’s advice, to find out what other people thought about the Jem’Hadar being on the station, but he and Shar had already talked about it. Unfortunately, the mild and pleasant Shar didn’t seem to form strong opinions about much of anything. He had commiserated with Nog about his anger, but he hadn’t expressed any of his own feelings, beyond saying that war was always unfortunate.

  In fact…

  “Shar, why don’t you ever talk about yourself?” Nog asked. “It seems like you’re always listening and asking a lot of questions, but you don’t talk about what you like to do, things like that.”

  Shar blinked, his expression impassive. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Well, do you have any hobbies? Things you enjoy?”

  “I enjoy learning about different cultures.”

&n
bsp; Nog nodded; not dom-jot but it was a start, at least. “What’s your culture like?” he asked.

  Shar blinked again, and although his expression didn’t change, Nog had a sudden impression that he was reluctant to answer.

  “The Andorian culture is complex,” Shar said, after a few beats. Then he fell silent again, as if considering how to proceed. Or maybe if he should at all. “Andorians have a genetic predisposition toward violent behavior, but socially, within our own communities, we’re extremely structured. I would say we are a serious people, and adaptable. Compared to many other species, Andorians excel under difficult circumstances; like the human fight-or-flight response to danger, our biochemical reaction is to either fight or to increase our sensory input levels, which lends greater power to our analytical and reasoning skills.”

  So it was true. “That’s very interesting.”

  Shar nodded. “All cultures are interesting,” he said. “Your own, for example…you were telling me about your rules of monetary acquisition last night. Do all Ferengi know them, or just the males?”

  Nog was deep into explaining the feminist revolution on Ferenginar before he realized that Shar had neatly sidestepped being asked any more personal questions. It was a common enough business tactic, a safe answer before turning the questions back on the customer, getting him to talk about himself. People loved to talk about themselves, there was a whole subset of rules on it. But why Shar felt he needed to divert him…

  Maybe he’s not all that thrilled about his roots, either. Nog was proud to be a Ferengi, but that didn’t mean he was proud of everything the Ferengi people had ever done, and that definitely included plenty of his relatives. If Shar didn’t want to talk about himself, that was fine by Nog.

  Shar excused himself to get a drink he wanted Nog to try, and Nog sipped his root beer, his mind wandering. Thinking about troubled pasts, and wondering if Jake was having a good trip. He carefully avoided thinking about the station’s uninvited visitor, or wondering what he would actually do if the Jem’Hadar’s story was accepted as truth…and when Shar brought back two Andorian citrus drinks, Nog found that he had managed to keep himself in an optimistic mood. They both had hours of work to return to, hours of having to face the aftermath of tragedy in many of its dispiriting forms; a few minutes of not talking about how bad things were…well, that wasn’t a bad thing.