by Diane Carey
Ezri’s eyes glittered happily. “You helped him become chancellor … you can’t very well turn your back on him now.”
Disarmed by that, Worf looked at Sisko. “My first loyalty is to you, Captain!”
Sisko blushed inwardly at the idea that he could stimulate more devotion than a whole empire waiting in the wings. “I’ll probably regret this in the morning, but if this is something you want, then by all means….”
He offered a little shrug that clinched the deal.
Absorbing too much too fast, Worf caved to the pressure of all those surrounding him, but kept his eyes fixed on Sisko and held his breath. “It has been a great honor to serve with you, sir,” he offered sincerely.
Sisko nodded to him. “The honor was all mine.”
After a pause, Worf turned to Martok, still holding the same breath. “I accept.”
Martok bowled forward and embraced him in a big Klingon way. “An ambassador who will go targ hunting with me! Maybe being chancellor won’t be so bad after all!”
And he broke into a fierce laugh.
Ezri touched Worf’s arm. “Congratulations, Worf.”
Sisko watched as her eyes filled with tears, then she almost immediately regained control over herself. She went up on her toes to kiss Worf on the cheek and give him a hug—as friends.
It was good to see. And Sisko needed something that was good to see.
* * *
“When will you be going?”
Kira was warm and tender on Odo’s arm as they strode along as if nothing were wrong.
“In a day or two,” he told her, hoping it sounded wise.
“You could come back,” she suggested carefully, “after you’ve cured your people….”
“Nerys,” he said, stopping that line of thought, “I hope you know my feelings toward you haven’t changed. But my people need me. They need to know what I know, learn what I’ve learned from living among solids. It’s the only way they will ever learn to trust you.”
“You don’t have to justify your decision to me, Odo,” she said.
He appreciated her for that. She wasn’t dismissing herself from loving him, or claiming that she wasn’t a big enough part of her life to deserve an explanation. She was telling him, in her way, that she knew he had a good reason, something beyond his own personal satisfactions.
Strange, but he knew she would have protested before this, because she was worried about the effect the Link would have on him. This lack of protest proved that she understood, or at least suspected: it would be Odo affecting the Link from now on, not the other way around.
“There’s only one thing I ask,” she added.
“Name it.”
“That we spend your last few days as a solid together. I want to take you back to your homeworld.”
Her bravery and bittersweet faith in him almost knocked him over. She was giving not only her love, but her blessing.
“I’d like that,” he said, and almost couldn’t speak. “I’d like that very much.”
* * *
Heat, flame, ecstasy.
The Fire Caves burned and swam with concoction. She could hear her own voice, but as if disembodied, louder and louder, echoing now.
DOORA TOLKA BRE-TRI PAH-WRAN
DOTTA TOLKA O-CHEN DOORA TOLDA
WEY-DAY SHAYHAL!
She was half insane, her voice cracking, her skin slimy with sweat, her clothing damp and hanging, but the chant rose within her with a power she could never have imagined before! Over there, Dukat’s lifeless body lay in sacrifice to the Pah-wraiths. They would come! They would come to her! She had done everything they could possibly want!
The flames! The fires of the abyss rose over her head into unnatural spirals! The Pah-wraiths! They were hearing her!
Kos’se nusso ma’koran kajnani
preen dah-ono uka’lamor eye anu!
Kosst Amojan! I await you! Come to me!
The energy spiral gained speed, raced, flew, ran, surged over her head. She stretched out her arm to it, seeking the blessing of the Pah-wraiths, whom she herself had freed from their prison.
They would adore her! They would favor her! Energy spears darted all around the vaulted ceiling of the Fire Caves, all at her bidding. She was the greatest conjurer!
A spear of flame came down like a javelin and struck her in the heart. Their power was too great—the javelin slammed her backward into the hard wet sizzling wall.
Plastered there, she was helpless to raise her arms again. Her unblinking eyes saw the flames take on a living shape, springing and darting in their exuberance. But they were making a mistake.
The javelin vectored away from her, denying her the power.
Instead, it went to Dukat and drove itself into his open mouth, surging, surging into his body. But he was the sacrifice—she had brought him to them!
They were making a mistake. A mistake!
As her shuddering legs betrayed her and she began to slip down to the cliff shelf, Winn’s burning eyes remained open and her brain remained aware, though her limbs were leaden and her heart had seized up.
Before her, on the shelf at the brink of the flaming abyss, Dukat’s body shook from within. Its eyes flew open with unworldly power. There, in his eyes, she saw the life force of the Pah-wraiths.
They had chosen him and not her. They had come, they were here. They were free.
CHAPTER
12
Vic’s Lounge, inside Quark’s Lounge, a little bit of unreality inside a place of, some would argue, equal illusion. Eh, well, the 1960’s had their charm—didn’t they?
Barbie Dolls and cars with fins, beatniks and bongos, and something called go-and-go boots.
Quark entered the bar-in-a-bar and was greeted by Vic Fontaine.
“Hey, pallie! If you’re here for another game of go fish, I’m a little busy right now.”
“Actually,” Quark told him, “I’m here for the end-of-the-war-goodbye-Chief-O’Brien-goodbye-Odo party.”
“Over there, at the bar.”
“Thanks.”
Yeah, there they were. Sisko, his wife Kasidy, Kira with Odo, Worf more or less by himself in a crowd, O’Brien, Dr. Bashir, Ezri Dax, and Jake Sisko. Nice bunch of bananas. They all looked perfectly content, even happy. Well, except Worf. He wasn’t howling yet.
“I’m serious, Miles,” Dr. Bashir was saying as Quark approached, “I envy you. I really do. San Francisco is one of my favorite cities on Earth.”
“Earth’s got lots of wonderful cities,” O’Brien said. “Every city on Earth has its own personality. Now, just let any other planet make that claim. And country! Do we have country. Canyons and grasslands and forests and redwoods and—”
“Miles, have another drink.”
Quark muscled his way between Sisko and Ezri. “May I have everyone’s attention please? Attention, please! In appreciation for all that you’ve done to end the war and save the Alpha Quadrant, the Promenade Merchants’ Association has voted to pay the costs of your holosuite visit this evening.”
The crowd of DS9ers cheered at themselves and Quark got a few good slams on the back.
“That’s very generous of them,” Ezri said.
Jake Sisko leaned forward. “Who are they paying, Quark?” he asked.
“Me, of course! And since they’re being so generous, I’m charging them double.”
Nobody seemed surprised. After all, he knew it was a great idea. Maybe he could market it.
Hmm….
“So,” he went on, “eat all you can, drink even more, and stay as late as you like.”
Sure—the more they ate, the more they drank and the later they stayed, the bigger the bill.
“Don’t worry, Quark,” Bashir said. “It’s going to be a long night. There’s a lot of good-byes to be said. To Miles and Odo and Worf—”
“Worf?” Quark swung around to the Klingon. “Where are you going?”
“It does not concern you, Ferengi.”
Ezri smiled and
patted Worf’s enormous hand. “Worf’s been made Federation Ambassador to Kronos!”
“You?” Quark swung around again. “A diplomat?”
Worf scowled, then decided to admit, “That was my first reaction.”
Ben Sisko beamed at his favorite hunk of granite and raised his glass. “But Admiral Ross and Chancellor Martok wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Quark bothered to fill all their glasses as long as they weren’t really paying attention, and distracted them by asking, “Anybody else leaving that I should know about?”
O’Brien reeled back and proclaimed, “I didn’t know you cared, Quark.”
“I don’t. If you want to spend the rest of your life on that rotating ball of boredom called Earth, that’s fine with me. I just don’t like change, that’s all.”
Bashir laughed aloud, as if that meant something.
“Well,” Sisko said, “you better get used to it, because things are going to be pretty different around here.”
Perhaps he hadn’t meant it heavily, but his words threw a pall over the occasion. Suddenly they all seemed to realize they were celebrating the breakup of long-time acquaintances. Quick—pour more drinks before they all get depressed!
Odo broke the threatening mood. “What ever were we talking about before Quark showed up?”
Kasidy caught the ball. “How much Julian loves San Francisco.”
“That’s right” Bashir plowed on. “The Bay, the bridge, the restaurants, the painted-lady houses, Big Sur, Monterey, the antique street cars, all that history … you’re going to love it, Miles.”
“I sure will,” O’Brien said. “But it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment at first—”
“Nonsense!” Bashir cut off. “You’ll have your students, your family—think of all the quality time you can spend with Molly and Kirayoshi … the long, romantic walks with Keiko through Golden Gate Park….”
Kasidy gazed at Sisko. “Sounds wonderful,” she uttered.
“It is wonderful!” Bashir proclaimed. He pressed a hand to O’Brien’s shoulder. “You lucky devil. Bartender! Another round for my friends here!”
When the bartender didn’t respond right away, Bashir drifted off down the bar to hail the service in person.
O’Brien watched him go, appearing happy and content about the break-up.
“He’s taking it better than I thought,” he mentioned, knowing he was probably about to jinx the whole attitude. “My leaving and all….”
Ezri, typically, found the truth much more comforting than a fluffy deception. “Are you kidding? He’s dying inside.”
Sadness pressed in on O’Brien no matter how he tried to pretend it wasn’t there.
“I know how he feels,” he said.
But did he? He was going off on a new adventure. Teaching, Earth, home life, safety … yes, these had their kind of adventurous nature. They had their attractive wonderment. There was challenge in making things work, showing young minds how to make things happen, in raising a contented child, providing security for his wife and kids. He was starting to feel a whole other kind of intimidation and anticipation: stare down the barrel of a thirty-year mortgage and say that guy’s not a hero. A good honest job, leaving the glory-mongering to the young upstarts. He did like the idea. There was a challenge there and he was looking forward to it. He knew the captain and Ezri Dax and the others would be all right without him, despite the fact that he’d been taking care of them all these years, making sure they had air to breathe and propulsion when they needed it … only Bashir worried him.
Julian was hiding something, burying his real feelings—Ezri was right about that. Even a new love couldn’t replace the security of old friends. O’Brien knew he’d been wrong to hope so. He knew, and felt awful, that Bashir was determined to be happy for him and not make him feel bad.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Vic Fontaine raised his hands and gained everyone’s attention from where he stood at the front of the jazz band.
“This is a very special night for some friends of mine,” he began. “They’ve been together a long time, but like the man said, nothing lasts forever. Gang,” he added, looking over to them, “this one’s from the heart. One … two….”
The tune was jazzy, cheery, yet the words gripped O’Brien and most likely all of them with the firm hand of melancholy. They really were breaking up. Until now, it hadn’t seemed so imminent.
Well, this couldn’t go on.
He pushed away from his seat, went around Ezri to where Julian Bashir was watching the band play.
“Julian? All right?”
“Oh, Miles … it’s good music, isn’t it? I think it was written in the fifties, though. It’s got that little swing about it—”
“I’m not talking about the song, mate.”
Bashir glanced at him. “No … I suppose not. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my work cut out for me … we’re going to be helping to rebuild Cardassia, after all, and—”
O’Brien put a hand on his arm. “Julian, stop. No job is going to come between us. Not yours, and not even mine. Is that perfectly clear? You get leaves, I get leaves—there’s only so much that distance can do to keep us apart, and we’re in charge of that. This is the age of warp speed. Understand?”
Realizing perhaps for the first time that his looming loneliness wasn’t going to dominate their lives, Bashir met O’Brien’s gaze with a glint of genuine—not pretend—hope and gratitude.
“I understand,” he said.
O’Brien nodded. “You know the first thing I’m going to do when I get to Earth?”
“Take a trip to Texas.”
“And visit the Alamo.”
Bashir smiled. “You’ll send me a souvenir?”
Shaking his head, O’Brien did his best to look offended. “What do you think?”
A round of applause broke their conversation, and they realized the song was over. Thank God.
Captain Sisko’s glass was held high. O’Brien and Bashir turned to meet their commander’s toast.
“To the best crew any captain every had,” Sisko offered. When they had all lifted their glasses, he continued. “This may be our last night together, but I know one thing. No matter what the future may hold, no matter how far we travel or where we end up, a part of us, a very large part, will always remain here … on Deep Space Nine.”
Neither the most poetic nor the most profound speech ever made, but there wasn’t a one of them who didn’t believe every word. It was a promise between them, an extension of Bashir and O’Brien’s, that even those they would never see again would remain with them somehow.
O’Brien raised his glass to Sisko, then, before actually drinking, made sure that he and Bashir were looking at each other and had a private moment amid the public farewell.
Yes. It was time to move on—together.
* * *
“Are you sure you want to leave without saying goodbye?”
Kira Nerys walked beside Odo to the airlock, where the runabouts were stationed, fueled, and ready. Odo seemed pensive as he walked at her side, but he seemed also serene and in control. There wasn’t a bit of doubt in him.
“Quite sure,” he said. “I’m not very good at goodbyes.”
No, he wasn’t, she had to agree, and there was some sense to his refusal. If a goodbye was focused upon too much, then that would be all anyone would ever remember.
He was smart.
She beamed at him. “A lot of people are going to be disappointed.”
“If they don’t know how I feel about them now,” he pointed out quite rightly, “a few parting words won’t make any difference.”
At the threshold of the airlock, they had almost gone in together when a voice cracked at them from back in the corridor.
“I knew it!”
They turned—first mistake.
Quark was rushing toward them.
“When I saw the two of you slip out of the holosuite, I said to myself,
‘That no-good misanthropic cantankerous Changeling is trying to sneak off the station without anyone’s noticing!’”
Kira smiled.
“That was the idea,” Odo confirmed.
Quark rushed up to them and wheedled around between them and the airlock. “Well, it’s not going to happen!”
“Apparently not.”
“So now that I’m here, isn’t there something you want to say to me?”
Odo peered down at him. “Such as?”
“Such as, ‘Goodbye, you certainly were a worthy adversary,’ or maybe something with the words ‘mutual respect’ in it—”
“No.” Odo straightened sharply.
“No? What do you mean ‘no’”
“There’s nothing I want to say to you.”
Quark huffed, insulted. “You’re telling me that after all these years, after all we’ve been thorugh, you’re not even going to say goodbye to me?”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Odo raised his chin. “That’s right.”
Kira held her breath while the two men stared at each other for a long—and longer—time.
When that snapped, Odo looked at her. “Nerys, I’ll be on the runabout.”
With a final dismissive glare, he disappeared around Quark and into the airlock.
Quark shifted his weight a couple of times. “I guess that’s it, then.”
Kira nodded. “Don’t take it so hard, Quark.”
“Hard? What are you talking about? That man loves me! Couldn’t you see? It was written all over his—back!”
The Ferengi turned on a heel and wheeled down the corridor without turning even once to look this way again.
Of course! It wasn’t over! Kira smiled, then let herself actually laugh. Nothing was over, not at all. They were the kind of friends who could see each other every twenty years and it would be as if nothing had changed! Why hadn’t she realized that before?
And a lot could still happen, couldn’t it?
Sure it could. The future was big. She was looking forward to it.
* * *
The Fire Caves roared their full-fledged hellfire. Winn slowly regained control over her eyes, her arms. She looked and finally saw.
At the edge of the abyss, standing strong and straight, Dukat had been transformed back into a Cardassian—his born form, his birthright—and he seemed thrilled with himself.
