Twist of Faith

by S. D. Perry

  Studying the wormhole in school didn’t prepare him for seeing it, and seeing it didn’t remotely prepare him for what it was like to go through it.

  His studies told him that the streams of white and silver light were verteron particles and silithium streams and various other bits of particulate matter, but that only mattered to Nog when duty required it of him. Times like this, he liked to just sit back and watch the dance of lights as the ship shot through seventy thousand light-years in a matter of minutes.

  As they emerged from the Alpha Quadrant mouth of the wormhole into Bajoran space, Shar spoke up, apparently not willing to let the subject die just yet. “It’s actually quite intriguing the way you keep doing things that don’t match the specifications. Especially since you’re always right.”

  Nog chuckled. “Well, not always. But when I’m wrong, I’ve gotten very good at making it seem like it was what I meant to do all along. I met Captain Montgomery Scott recently, and he said something great.” Shar didn’t seem impressed by the name-dropping, so Nog added, “You’ve heard of him, right?”

  “Oh, sure, I know Scotty,” Shar said.

  Nog felt his jaw drop open. “You call him ‘Scotty’? I don’t think I’d ever have the lobes to do that.”

  “My zhavey introduced us, and he insisted I use the nickname.”

  Nog shook his head. He kept forgetting that the unassuming young Andorian had a parent on the Federation Council. “Anyway, he said, ‘The established norms are just guidelines, and your job as an engineer is to find a better way around them.’”

  “That certainly sounds like Scotty.”

  From behind him, Nog heard Vaughn’s rock-steady voice say, “Deep Space 9, this is the Defiant requesting permission to dock.”

  “Granted,” came the reply from Selzner in ops.

  Something caught Shar’s attention on his console. “Commander, we’re getting a message from the array. It’s relaying something on a Federation civilian frequency from the Kar-telos system, just a few light-years into the Gamma Quadrant.”

  “Put it on screen, please.”

  “It’s audio only, sir,” Shar said quickly.

  Vaughn looked over at Shar and fixed him with an intense, calm gaze that was as scary as anything Nog had ever seen. “Then put it on speakers, Ensign ch’Thane.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This is Captain Monaghan of the Mars freighter Halloran. I need some help here. I was doing the Jovian run, and now—well, I think I’m in the Gamma Quadrant. I haven’t the first clue as to how I got here. Someone please help me!”

  “You said it was a civilian frequency, Ensign?” Vaughn asked Shar.

  Shar nodded.

  “That explains it, then. Open a channel.”

  Manipulating his console, Shar said, “Channel open.”

  “Freighter Halloran, this is Commander Elias Vaughn, first officer of Deep Space 9. You are, in fact, in the Gamma Quadrant.”

  “How the hell did I wind up here?”

  “That’s a very fair question, Captain. I wish I had an answer for that. What I can tell you is that we will dispatch a runabout to your position right away and lead you back to DS9 through the Bajoran wormhole. Is that acceptable?”

  Captain Monaghan started to sound panicky. Nog’s sensitive ears noticed the change in the timbre of her voice, even over the communications system. “I guess so. Isn’t this where the Dominion came from?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

  “Should I be worried about the Jem’Hadar?”

  “No,” Vaughn said with calm confidence that Nog—remembering the recent attack on the station—didn’t share. “You’re quite safe, I can assure you. Nonetheless, we’ll dispatch the runabout immediately.”

  “Thanks, Commander.” Nog noticed that the timbre of her voice had changed again. Vaughn’s words had obviously reassured her. “Halloran out.”

  Vaughn turned to Bowers. “Lieutenant, when we dock, prepare the Sungari for departure and take it to the Kar-telos system.”

  Bowers nodded.

  Shar was staring at his panel. “How is it possible that a ship in the Terran system suddenly found itself in the Gamma Quadrant?”

  “Let’s hope, Ensign, that it relates to why we’re at yellow alert right now.”

  Nog frowned. “Why would we hope that, Commander?”

  This time, Vaughn’s hard stare was turned on Nog. “Because, Lieutenant, I’ve been through more Starfleet states of emergency than I care to count. And the last thing you want to have to do during one is split your focus.”

  Chapter Three

  Deep Space 9

  Elias Vaughn hated meetings.

  Oh, he understood the need for them. There were times when such things were vital, and it was good for groups of people who worked together to gather regularly and keep each other abreast of their duties, lives, or anything else of import.

  But the ideal meeting was short and to the point. Vaughn’s long years of experience had shown him that most meetings were neither, and were primarily an impediment to actually getting anything accomplished. One of the many—although lesser—reasons Vaughn had declined so many promotions over the years was the surety that a higher rank would result in more meetings.

  As he and Kira approached Quark’s bar, Ensign ch’Thane’s voice sounded through Kira’s combadge. “Ops to Colonel Kira.”

  Tapping her combadge, Kira said, “Go ahead, Shar.”

  “Colonel, we’re receiving detailed information from Europa Nova. It isn’t good, sir.”

  They entered the bar, occupied solely by a few civilians—including Morn in his usual seat toward one end of the bar. With the station at yellow alert, the Starfleet and Bajoran Militia personnel were either at their duty stations or on standby, and most of the rest of the station’s population probably felt safer on their ships or in their quarters.

  “Anything new I should know?” Kira asked as she walked up the tightly winding staircase to the second level.

  “They are primarily confirming the original distress call—theta radiation is appearing in orbit from an unknown point of origin and will reach lethal levels within fifty-two hours. The only new data is that the source of the radiation appears to be some kind of antimatter industrial waste.”

  Kira frowned. “That’s odd.”

  Vaughn searched his memory for anyone in the quadrant who still generated waste from their matter-antimatter power sources, and couldn’t find any. Every warp-capable species he knew of that used such reactors had conquered the waste problem in fairly short order.

  “Lieutenant Bowers has rendezvoused with the Halloran. He reports no problems, and should be back within the hour. We’ve also received several odd reports in the usual dispatches.”

  “Odd in what way?” Kira asked.

  “Apparently, Orions have been sighted on Ferenginar, near the Grand Nagus’s home, the Deltans and Carreon have mutually broken their treaty in a manner that defies logic, there’s a medical crisis on Armus IX thanks to an unauthorized alien presence—the list is quite extensive, and has a common element of people not being where they should be.”

  “Keep a log of the odd reports, Shar,” Kira said. She and Vaughn arrived at the door to one of Quark’s holosuites on the bar’s third level. Nog was already there, making some adjustments to an outer panel. “We’re about to go into the meeting—maybe we’ll find out what this is all about. Kira out.” She looked at Nog and said, “Report.”

  “Just a second, sir.” Several seconds later, Nog stood up and turned off the polarizer he had been using. “It’s ready, Colonel. The connection to Starfleet Headquarters is functional. We just need them to activate it on their end.”

  “Any problems?”

  Nog gave a lopsided smile. “None, sir. My uncle’s off-station, after all.”

  Kira gave an equally lopsided smile in return.

  “I take it Quark would have been something of an impediment to using the holosuite this way,�
�� Vaughn said dryly as he followed Kira through to the presently inactive holosuite.

  “A small one. He would’ve complained and asked for compensation and generally made a nuisance of himself—the usual. But, whatever Quark’s failings,” she said in a tone of voice that implied that she found those failings to be legion, “he’s a good Ferengi. His underlings are usually competent enough to keep the business from going under while he’s away, but not good enough to be a danger to his position as the boss.”

  “So they’re easy to intimidate.”

  Nodding, Kira said, “Especially by the son of the new Grand Nagus.”

  Nog’s voice came from over the intercom. “Signal coming in from Starfleet now, Colonel.”

  The holosuite environment didn’t change, but Vaughn suddenly found himself in a room full of red-trimmed uniforms, his ears assaulted by several simultaneous conversations all being piped in at once. It was as if a cocktail party had suddenly been beamed aboard the station. However, the noise almost immediately dropped to near-silence as people realized that they were “on.”

  In recent years, holographic technology had been refined to the point where it could be combined with subspace communication, allowing two people to converse while each appeared to be in the same room with the other, even though they were in fact separated by light-years. What Starfleet had done here was take that to the next step by linking the holocoms of various ships and starbases to the one at Starfleet HQ on Earth so that dozens of people from all across the quadrant could meet. Just as it appeared to him that these men and women were standing in the holosuite, Vaughn knew it appeared that they were all standing on the holodecks of each officer in attendance.

  All of those present were of command rank, but only one—William Ross—was from the admiralty. These are some of Starfleet’s most prominent leaders, he thought, but not the ones who run it. This is a room full of “doers.” Interesting.

  Just as interesting was Kira’s distinction within the gathering as the only non-Starfleet command officer present, her Bajoran Militia uniform standing out in stark contrast to the others. Vaughn knew there were those at Starfleet Command who were less than pleased with the idea of a non-Federation officer commanding Starfleet personnel and a facility as important as DS9 was strategically. As far as Vaughn was concerned, the naysayers were simply ignorant.

  Not this group, though. Kira had worn the Federation’s uniform once, he knew, during the final weeks of the Dominion War and under extraordinary circumstances. But Vaughn wondered how many in the meeting actually knew that, or if their clear and unflinching acceptance of Kira as part of this very special circle of officers stemmed rather from the strength of her reputation and her record. She stood next to him, her arms folded expectantly as she studied the faces of the other officers, exchanging nods with the few that she knew, secure in her own authority and ready to get down to business. Not for the first time, Vaughn found himself uncharacteristically impressed with his commanding officer.

  For his part, Vaughn knew most of the people in the room personally, including Captain Solok of the T’Kumbra (not a bad ship commander, as Vaughn recalled, but something of a jerk personally); Commander Ju’les L’ullho of Starbase 96; and Captain Walter Emick of the Intrepid. A few—Captain Elizabeth Shelby of the Trident; Captain Elaine Mello of the Gryphon; and Captain Mackenzie Calhoun of the Excalibur—he knew only by reputation. Some, of course, had more of a reputation than others, and Calhoun’s was fairly bizarre. He had, Vaughn knew, done quite a bit of work for Admiral Nechayev’s little corner of Starfleet Intelligence. Vaughn had thought that Calhoun was a bit too much of a loose cannon for that kind of work, but Alynna seemed to find him useful. Calhoun was also supported by Jean-Luc Picard and intensely disliked by Edward Jellico, both points in his favor.

  Speaking of Jean-Luc, the Enterprise captain stood in the center of the room next to Bill Ross. Picard seemed strangely unreadable as he surveyed the gathering, but Ross had a hangdog look that spoke more than anything to the gravity of the situation. The admiral hadn’t looked this bad since the worst days of the Dominion War.

  “Good afternoon,” Ross said. Gestures and muttered returned greetings filled the room momentarily before he went on. “It’s nice to know our relay systems are fine-tuned enough to allow holoconferences like this to occur. It certainly beats trying to find parking orbits for all of you.” Ross attempted a smile, but the joke fell flat. “I’m placing you all on yellow alert until further notice.”

  Next to him, Kira’s eyes smoldered. Vaughn immediately recognized her “gee-how-brilliant-of-Starfleet-to-do-something-I-already-thought-of” expression.

  Ross continued. “As for why we’re doing this, we have a new problem. A few days ago, the Federation Council was approached by a group of beings who identified themselves as the Iconians.”

  Vaughn watched the reactions of the others around the holosuite. Some nodded in understanding—ones probably familiar with the two on-record Iconian encounters and/or the legends that had surrounded that ancient, and supposedly extinct, species—others looked confused, still others asked people off-circuit to check up on the name.

  Once the brief commotion settled down, Ross turned to the Enterprise captain. Vaughn remembered that Jean-Luc had always had a fascination for Iconian legend. “Captain Picard, would you please detail what we know of the Iconians?”

  “Of course, Admiral. The Iconians were known to exist in this quadrant of space some two hundred millennia ago. Their culture and technology were unparalleled in that time period but records about them are scant. About a decade ago, Captain Donald Varley of the U.S.S. Yamato determined the location of their homeworld in the Romulan Neutral Zone, but was lost along with his ship when a destructive Iconian computer program inserted itself into the Yamato‘s mainframe. Even after all that time, the technology on the homeworld remained functional—including the gateways.

  “These gateways provide instantaneous transport between two points that could be meters or light-years apart. Two functional gateways have been found over the last few years: one on the homeworld, which I myself destroyed rather than allow gateway technology to fall into Romulan hands; and one discovered by the Dominion in the Gamma Quadrant, which was destroyed by a joint Starfleet/Jem’Hadar team from the U.S.S. Defiant.”

  Ross nodded. “Thank you, Captain. The Iconians who have come forward now have offered us the gateway technology for a price. The Council is considering the offer, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. First, they are offering the technology to the highest bidder. Similar offers have been made to governments throughout the quadrant. Clearly, this could have a devastating impact should any antagonistic or ambitious government obtain the technology exclusively.

  “Second, and most immediate: the Iconians have chosen to demonstrate how useful the gateways can be by activating the entire network. Gateways have opened up all over the quadrant and beyond. The Iconians have seen fit to withhold how to control them and have chosen not to provide us with any form of useful map.”

  Once again a brief commotion broke out, as the officers present reacted to the news. Vaughn scratched his salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully. That, he thought, would explain the Halloran and all those odd reports of Shar’s. And, quite probably, what’s happening to Europa Nova.

  “As the gateways came online,” Ross continued, silencing the group, “we immediately began studying their output, trying to get a handle on how they work.”

  As Ross spoke, another figure came in. Vaughn almost smiled. This was another captain, and probably the only human in the room older than Vaughn himself.

  “We became rather alarmed at some of the readings, and so turned the study over to the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. We now have a preliminary report.” Turning to the new arrival, he said, “Captain Scott, thank you for joining us.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Montgomery Scott said, after giving a quick, affectionate glance to Picard. Vaughn remembered that the
Enterprise rescued Captain Scott from the U.S.S. Jenolen, where he’d been trapped in a sort of suspended animation for over seven decades as a transporter pattern. In the years since, the man out of time had traveled far and wide and performed a variety of tasks; most recently, however, he’d been assigned to serve as the liaison between the Starfleet Corps of Engineers and the admiralty.

  Scott continued. “Those gateways, to be blunt, are behavin’ in ways we never imagined. It seems that when they exhaust their power, they tap into any other power supply that’s available. Like pussy willows here on Earth, that seek water and break into pipes to find it. These gateways are so beyond our ken tha’ figuring out how they tick and stoppin’ them will be almost impossible.”

  “Do you mean, they could tap an entire planet’s resources and drain them dry?” Ross asked.

  Scott took a deep breath. “Aye. Worse, for those worlds using predominantly geothermal or hydraulic power. Their ecosystem could be compromised. We don’t have all the figures in yet, but one o’ my ships is measuring solar consumption. My fear is some stars might be destabilized by additional power demands. It’s a very nasty bit o’ business.”

  Turning back to the assembled commanders, Ross said, “All the more reason for us to mobilize the fleet. Duty packets are going out now with specific sector assignments. We’ll need to maintain the peace. Some of our scientific vessels will be working with the S.C.E. to determine just how severe the problems might become. Captain Solok, I will want you and your crew to begin monitoring all incident reports from gateway activity. If the Iconians won’t give us a map, I want us to make one.”

  Speaking gravely, the Vulcan captain said, “Understood. I should point out that it will not be complete and therefore not entirely accurate.”

  “Noted,” Ross said. “I’ll take whatever we can get since it’s better than the nothing we have right now.”