Twist of Faith

by S. D. Perry

  “If you’re watching this, you’ve most likely met Taran’atar by now,” Odo said. “And he has probably explained his presence to you, but I thought you should also hear it from me.

  “You know that ever since we learned how and why the Dominion had created the Jem’Hadar, I’ve felt a certain responsibility for what my people had done to them. Their lives have only one meaning here, to fight and die for the Founders. And because the majority of them die young, very few of them ever imagine that any other kind of existence is possible. But some do. We’ve all seen this.

  “Among the ideas I’ve tried to introduce since I returned to the Link is that the Jem’Hadar deserve a chance to be freed of their dependency on ketracel-white, and to evolve without further genetic manipulation.” Odo grunted, as if remembering. “You can imagine the Link’s reaction to that suggestion.”

  Odo’s look suddenly became more intense. “I have no illusions, I know I can’t transform the Jem’Hadar or the Dominion overnight. But it has to begin somewhere. My people once sent out a hundred of my kind into the galaxy to learn what they could, and to bring that knowledge home. I was one of them. It took some doing, but I convinced the Link to let me try the same thing with a single Jem’Hadar.

  “I know the Jem’Hadar aren’t all that popular in the Alpha Quadrant, and with good reason, for the most part…but I also know that you have nothing to fear from Taran’atar. He’s not dependent on white, and he never fought in the war for the Alpha Quadrant. He’s there to do as you tell him, Nerys, and to experience living among different life-forms just as I did.

  “My hope in sending him to you is that…it’s a first step, a step toward change. I think you’ll find him to be honest and direct, and open to new possibilities. I hope you’ll let him stay for a while.”

  Kira glanced at Taran’atar, his emotions still too alien to be read clearly. But Kira thought she saw in his face a flicker of something she understood. Acceptance, maybe? Even hope?

  “I also want to tell you,” Odo went on, “and tell leaders of the Alpha Quadrant, that you have nothing to fear from the Dominion, either. The Link is also in a state of change. We’ve been…they’ve been considering the insights and experiences that I’ve brought to them, and will be for some time to come, I expect. You can believe me when I say the Dominion is closing its borders for the foreseeable future. I guess you could say I’ve given them a lot to think about.”

  Commander Sartai started to say something, and was hushed by Admiral Ross.

  “We stumbled across the Dominion by accident, back before the war started,” Odo said. “Most of the people from the Alpha Quadrant simply wanted to explore and to befriend those they encountered…and I want you to pass the message along that if the Federation and its allies want to resume that peaceful exploration, the Dominion won’t interfere. All the Link asks for in return is to be left alone, until it’s ready to initiate contact.”

  Kira could feel the surprise in the room, but couldn’t look away, not now. His repressed face was slipping away, the light breaking through, and he was gazing at her with love and tenderness, the look that had scared her by its intensity in the first weeks of their romance. Now, it filled her with bittersweet joy. She knew that it had been the right thing, Odo returning home to live as he was meant to live, to share with the Founders what he’d learned living among humanoids…and it was still the right thing, because she loved him and it was what he wanted.

  “Take care, Nerys,” he said, his low voice rich with sincerity and a yearning of his own, his gently passionate gaze reaching hers through tens of thousands of light-years.

  He reached for something and was gone, the message delivered.

  Admiral Ross sat back in his chair, as stunned as he’d been in quite some time. He looked at Colonel Kira first, but quickly looked away, seeing the barely contained emotion on her face. The personal subtext of the message was impossible to ignore, and he felt almost as though they had all invaded her privacy by watching.

  The others in the room also seemed surprised, though it appeared that the news had affected each of them differently. Commander Sartai was obviously unhappy, her sharp features set in narrow lines; the Romulan government had pushed harder for the armed task force than any other, so he took her sour face as an indication that she believed Odo’s message. Captains Klag and R’taga both glared at the Jem’Hadar, but with less intensity than before, and Captain Picard seemed relieved, his shoulders back, the barest possibility of a smile on his face. Commander Vaughn wore a thoughtful expression, absently stroking his carefully trimmed beard with one hand.

  Kira had collected herself, and spoke first. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t believe what Odo and Taran’atar have told us?”

  A hesitation, the powerful men and women in the room all looking to each other to see. As Ross expected, Commander Sartai answered first.

  “I have strong reservations about the supposed truth of this matter,” she said, the mildness of her reaction proving that she believed what she’d heard. “I wish to speak privately with the other leaders in my forces before answering.”

  Both Klingons were nodding, and Captain Klag spoke slowly, his voice gruff but deliberative. “We also choose to confer among ourselves.”

  Ross thought that both Odo and Taran’atar were telling the truth, but recognized that even if the Romulans and Klingons believed it, they would need to make a show of deciding. With the Federation leading the investigation, he knew his opinion would figure heavily in the final decision—but also that if the other Allies felt pushed, they would resist.

  “Considering the evidence, I’m leaning toward Taran’atar’s version of events,” Ross said carefully. “But we should all meet with our own teams to discuss this new information. Shall we reconvene here in, say, an hour’s time?”

  “Agreed,” Klag said. Commander Sartai and the Klingon captains all stood up, nodding at Ross and at the others—when Commander Vaughn spoke up, seemingly addressing no one in particular.

  “Think of it—as long as we don’t bother with the Dominion, we’d be free to explore huge areas of new territory. There are unknown worlds to find, new cultures to experience…and just think of the untapped resources that would be available to us.”

  Ross held a straight face, but knew before the others left the room that Vaughn had just decided for them. The calculating gleam in Sartai’s gaze, the barely hidden grins of the Klingons—the opportunities were considerable, and too important to ruin with political power plays.

  And he knows it. If they weren’t a hundred percent before, they are now; the investigation is as good as over.

  When they were gone, Colonel Kira broke into a smile. “Well played, Commander. I’m impressed.”

  Vaughn smiled back at her as he stood up. “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Since this is a Federation matter, and you already know where I stand on it, I’ll take my leave,” she said, and then nodded at Taran’atar. He’d stood silently during the exchange, still watching the blank viewscreen as if he expected Odo to reappear.

  “Taran’atar, until I have a chance to explain your presence to the station, I’m going to ask you to stay in one of our guests’ quarters. I’ll take you to them now.”

  The Jem’Hadar nodded. “Shall I shroud?”

  The colonel hesitated, then shook her head. “We might as well let people start getting used to the idea.”

  Ross didn’t envy her the task of teaching a Jem’Hadar anything, but Taran’atar did seem to be different than most. He told Kira that he’d contact her as soon as the Allies returned, and she and Taran’atar left—after she took the data chip with Odo’s message, tucking it into her uniform.

  When the three Starfleet officers were alone, Picard turned to Vaughn with a smile. “Nicely done, Elias.”

  The commander accepted gracefully before turning his sharp, bright gaze to Ross. “Any doubts, Bill?”

  Ross shrugged, thinking that Elias Vaughn was one o
f the few people below the rank of Admiral who could get away with calling him “Bill.”

  “Personally? No, not really. Though I have to admit, I’d feel a lot better about this if we had some way to test the Dominion’s sincerity.”

  Vaughn smiled enigmatically. “I have a few ideas, but I have to check on a couple of things before I can commit to anything.”

  The commander excused himself, leaving Ross and Picard alone. They talked casually for a few more minutes about Starfleet business—the rumors about the Romulans making diplomatic overtures to the Breen, the probability of establishing a permanent Allied presence in the Bajoran sector, the mandates currently being reviewed by the Federation Council. Picard mentioned that the Enterprise would be leaving shortly, so as not to overtax DS9’s limited power reserves…which in turn led him to suggest to Ross that every Federation starship in the task force supply one emergency generator to the station. That should carry them through until a permanent solution to the reactor core problem could be found.

  Ross approved of the idea, and both officers agreed that Colonel Kira seemed to be handling her command well, stepping into Ben Sisko’s shoes without a hitch.

  Finally, Picard said he should see to his ship, and Ross decided he should put his call in to HQ…and when he stood up, Ross realized that he actually felt physically lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and shoulders. The nightmare of the last week was over, their journey to DS9 thankfully, mercifully unnecessary—there would be no war, no more Cardassias to mourn.

  At least not today, he thought. It was enough.

  Once Vaughn made it clear why he was calling, they wasted no time before bringing out their big guns—a four-way conference was quickly set up. Rear Admiral Presley, Vice Admiral Richardson, and perhaps the top mediator/negotiator for Starfleet MI, Captain Lily Shalhib, were online, three people with extraordinary careers in Starfleet…and security clearance similar to his own.

  Vaughn listened respectfully for a good twenty minutes, faintly amused and a little flattered by how hard they were trying to talk him out of his decision. Captain Shalhib, in particular, was extremely convincing.

  “…and security risks aside, it smacks of sheer recklessness,” Shalhib was saying. “Really, Elias, I think you ought to take some time to think this through. You’re easily one of our best independent operatives, and that isn’t something you can expect us to simply do without….”

  When they started to repeat themselves, Vaughn restated his intentions, making arguments of his own. “I’m more than qualified, I have the background, the diplomatic awareness, and the desire.”

  The nice stopped there. Vice Admiral Richardson shook his head, frowning, and Vaughn could see both Presley and Shalhib steeling themselves for what was coming.

  “I’m sorry, Elias, this isn’t open to discussion,” Richardson said. “You’re too valuable to us, especially now.”

  Vaughn’s eyes narrowed, thinking that there wasn’t a moment in his career when his superiors would not have said “especially now.” He reminded himself that they were only doing their jobs. “Then I tender my resignation from Starfleet, effective immediately.”

  They all stared at him, Presley forcing a smile.

  “That’s a joke, right?”

  “Try me,” Vaughn said. “I know this puts all of you in an awkward position, but let’s not forget, this is my life we’re discussing. I’ve made my decision. If you don’t like it, I’ll take my retirement instead, and go through with my plans as a civilian.”

  There was a pause, and then Shalhib spoke, suddenly seeming very tired.

  “Will you excuse us for a moment, Commander?”

  “Take your time,” Vaughn said, and the split screen went to standby.

  A moment later, they were back—and he knew immediately that he wouldn’t have to step down, from the reluctant surrender he saw in their eyes.

  “Congratulations, Elias,” Presley said. “Pending final approval from your new CO, I’ll have the official order put through within a day.”

  Vaughn sincerely thanked each of them and signed off, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After the morning staff meeting, Ro walked slowly to her office, thinking over the events of the last few days, both good and bad.

  The Allied task force had agreed to stand down in the early hours of the morning, which was good news for everyone. Ro could feel the relief in the air, could see it in the faces of the people she passed. Most of the ships had already left, although a few would remain in Bajoran space, to be on hand for any other surprise visits from the Gamma Quadrant. The news that the Dominion had agreed to allow exploration on their side of the wormhole was already spreading throughout the station; Ro was cautiously optimistic about it, along with just about everyone else.

  Three of her officers were dead, killed by Kitana’klan…who had been killed in turn by another Jem’Hadar, who would be staying on the station. Kira had assured all of them that Taran’atar was atypical, and from his actions so far, there was no argument—he’d saved Dr. Bashir’s life and kept the station safe, four times over. Lieutenant Nog had strenuously objected, but after Kira played Odo’s message, he’d lapsed into quiet grumbling. The colonel made it clear that she expected all of her senior staff to meet and work with Taran’atar, pointing out that the station population would be looking to them—that his being accepted would depend in large part on how the officers treated him.

  Ro had to admit, she was looking forward to meeting him—because of how much she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow’s memorial service, for the civilian tech and the deputies Kitana’klan had murdered. Wasa, Devro and Cryan had all been good young men, and she’d gladly shake the hand of the man who had taken out their killer, Jem’Hadar or no.

  Ro reached the Promenade and started for her office, wondering if Yevir Linjarin was still around. Probably; the prophecy upload debacle hadn’t been resolved so far as she knew, and Yevir was definitely not one to let something like that rest. She still planned on filing a report with the Ministry of Justice, but that seemed minor next to Kira’s act of defiance. Ro never would have guessed that the colonel had it in her to challenge a vedek, or to choose truth over faith. She knew she was simplifying, knew that Kira still didn’t entirely believe in Ohalu’s prophecies, but the colonel’s belief in the Bajoran people was admirable…

  …though I doubt Captain Yates sees it that way. Unlike the rest of Bajor, Ro didn’t particularly care where Yates chose to live, but she sincerely wished the woman luck; she seemed like a good person. If Ro had been in her position, she probably would have lost her mind by now.

  Word was going around that Shar’s mother had the Andorian seat on the Federation Council, which was quite a surprise. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He’d been uncharacteristically subdued at the meeting, and had seemed reluctant to make eye contact, which suggested he was embarrassed, though Ro couldn’t imagine why. She decided she’d seek him out later, just to make sure he was okay.

  Ro was so preoccupied with the ongoing complications of life on DS9 that she was actually walking through her office door before she realized that Quark was inside, waiting for her with a steaming mug in hand. She’d been expecting a visit for a couple of days, ever since she first noticed his recently acquired habit of watching her from outside his restaurant.

  “Lieutenant, good morning,” he said, charmingly formal as he extended the cup to her. “Forgive my presumptuousness, but I’ve noted that you have a fondness for hot tea, and I’ve been told that this is an excellent blend. It’s very expensive.”

  Ro paused in reaching for it. “Does that mean I have to pay for it?”

  Quark looked faintly wounded. “No, no, of course not! It’s a gift. Call it a token of my appreciation for your superb work with the evacuation last night. You know, you really know how to pack a crowd.”

  She accepted the mug and walked to her desk, smili
ng at him as she sat down. “Thanks, Quark, that’s very considerate of you.”

  The bartender smiled back, bowing a little and looking up at her over his lashes. “You’re welcome…Laren.”

  She sipped the tea, and nodded her approval. “This is good; what’s it called?”

  He hesitated for so long that she was about to ask him again when he suddenly blurted out, “Darjeeling, would you have dinner with me?”

  Even knowing that it was coming, Ro felt her heart beat a little faster. How long had it been since someone had asked her to dinner, or looked at her the way Quark did?

  “Quark…” Ro set her mug down, feeling a little awkward. She was terrible at romantic dealings, having never really practiced. She also actually liked Quark, and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  “Never mind,” he said briskly, nodding at her, the open look of hope giving way to a half scowl. “Forget I asked.”

  “No, wait,” she said. “Listen…right now I’m going through a kind of—self-evaluation period, I guess you could say, and while I’m flattered by your invitation, the truth is, I really don’t want to be involved with anyone right now.”

  For a split second, she thought she saw disappointment—but then he was grinning, shaking his head.

  “Involved? Who said anything about getting involved? I’m talking about eating together, you know, as friends.”

  Ro was pretty sure she knew better, but if that was how he wanted to handle it, she was willing to play along.

  “Oh. In that case, yes. Not tonight, though, I’ll be too tired. I’ve got a lot of work today. In fact, maybe we should wait a couple of days, until things calm down around here.”

  Quark was entirely too casual, but his eyes were gleaming. “Sure, tonight’s bad for me, too. Maybe in a couple of days. Or next week, even.”

  “Maybe,” Ro said, wondering if she’d made a mistake. He was entirely too happy for having just been turned down. “As friends, though, right?”