“You are a veritable city in space,” Garan said.
“We have to be,” Ro said. “While Bajor isn’t far, it still requires a journey to get there. As a Federation starbase, we need to be self-contained—not just for the sake of our crew and residents, but for all the visitors who’ll pass through here.”
Asarem looked away from the hologram and toward the outer ring of the Plaza. Ro peered in that direction as well and saw only a handful of people about, most of them clad in Starfleet uniforms. “For a city,” the first minister said, “you don’t seem very crowded.”
“We’ve recently reduced the amount of traffic to the station so that we can better prepare for the dedication ceremony and our elevation to full operational status,” Ro explained. The captain and her crew needed to ensure both the safety and the comfort of the numerous dignitaries who would attend the upcoming event. Invited guests included Federation President Nanietta Bacco, the leaders of allied nations—Klingon Chancellor Martok, Ferengi Grand Nagus Rom, in addition to Castellan Garan—as well as those of prospective allies—Gorn Imperator Sozzerozs and Romulan Praetor Gell Kamemor. “We’ve also restricted movement along the route of your tour today.”
Ro had been informed that Garan would arrive at DS9 several days ahead of the ceremony so that she could meet one-on-one with the first minister. Although the Bajorans had been providing aid to the battered people of Cardassia almost since the very end of the Dominion War, and although Bajor, as a member of the United Federation of Planets, found itself a de jure ally of the Cardassian Union within the framework of the Khitomer Accords, the relationship between the two governments and the two populations remained essentially at a remove. Even with nearly a decade of peace between them, enmity still existed on both worlds. The captain didn’t know with certainty the motives of the castellan and first minister in meeting with each other, but their plans called for two days of talks on DS9, then two more on Bajor, before Asarem and Garan returned to the station for the dedication. The castellan’s visit to Bajor would mark the first time that a Cardassian head of state visited the planet during peacetime.
“I’d be interested to see Deep Space Nine when it’s busy,” Garan said. “I’m sure it will have a very . . . interstellar . . . flavor to it.”
“It absolutely will,” Ro said. “And that’ll become more and more apparent over the next few days, but if you want to see the Plaza then, you’ll have to convince your security teams.” Ro peered over at the Bajoran and Cardassian officers charged with protecting the two leaders. “Before then, though, we can continue on,” Ro said, gesturing toward the wide concourse that led away from the atrium.
As Asarem and Garan voiced their desire to see more of the station, Ro heard the turbolift doors whisper open, and she looked over to see Colonel Cenn Desca emerge onto the Plaza. He immediately made eye contact with Ro as he approached the group. “Please excuse the interruption, Captain,” Cenn said, “but you wanted to be informed when Lieutenant Commander Blackmer was ready to execute his drills.” With the imminent arrival of additional dignitaries and the inauguration of the station to full operation, DS9’s chief of security had crafted a comprehensive plan for him and his staff to rigorously test their integrated security systems. Ro wanted to observe those drills herself.
“Yes, thank you,” the captain told Cenn. Turning to Asarem and Garan, she said, “I’m afraid my duties require my presence elsewhere.”
“Of course, Captain,” Asarem said.
“Completely understandable, considering the circumstances,” Garan said.
Ro held a hand out toward Cenn. “This is Colonel Cenn Desca, my first officer and the Bajoran liaison to the station,” she said. Asarem knew Ro’s exec, but Garan didn’t. “I will leave you in his capable hands.”
Asarem and Garan thanked the captain, and Ro headed for the turbolift. As its doors closed, she said, “The Hub.” The command complex of Deep Space 9 had been dubbed operations, or simply ops, by its designers, but because of its disc shape and its location at the upper intersection of the two vertical rings, the crew at some point had begun calling it the Hub. Eventually, Ro had ordered the turbolifts programmed to accept the added nomenclature.
As the lift glided down and then forward, Ro thought about what lay ahead. She strongly hoped that the security testing proved out, since the crew would have only five days in which to correct any shortcomings. The captain trusted the expertise of Blackmer and his staff, and the last year had demonstrated the high quality of the Corps of Engineers’ work in constructing the new DS9. That construction had only just been fully realized, though, and so the possibility of uncovering flaws remained. The station had been planned and built as a stronghold, but like any fortification, it would prove only as strong as its weakest defect. Fortunately, the assessments the crew had performed to that point, along with their partial operation of the station over the previous year, had revealed only minor problems, reparable with relative ease and, in any event, not compromising the safety of those aboard. For those reasons, the captain felt confident about hosting the dedication ceremony for so many important leaders.
Later, though, after everything that happened, Ro would think back to that moment in the turbolift, back to all the successful testing subsequently accomplished by Blackmer and his staff, and she would realize that it had already been too late: by the time she left First Minister Asarem and Castellan Garan with Colonel Cenn on the Plaza, Deep Space 9’s security had already been breached.
Two
The beating of Kira’s heart drummed unrelentingly in her ears. She stood awkwardly on the beach, her footing on the sand uneven, her presence there disconcerting. She peered from where the Emissary stood in a swimsuit and a sleeveless pullover shirt to the woman lying on a purple blanket. The woman’s straight, dark hair hung down to the tops of her shoulder blades, and she wore a two-piece bathing suit that exposed much of her caramel-colored skin. Kira recognized her, partly from having seen photographs of her in Benjamin’s quarters aboard Deep Space 9, but also from some inner sense that corroborated her identity: Jennifer Sisko. It didn’t matter that Benjamin’s first wife had died more than fifteen years earlier aboard the starship on which he served, a casualty of an attack by the Borg. It didn’t matter because even though the image of the woman belonged to Jennifer, her substance did not; she was a Prophet.
“It is corporeal,” Jennifer said. “A physical entity.”
“What?” Benjamin said, visibly puzzled. The captain did not seem to embody a Prophet, but only himself. He stared directly ahead, as though he saw neither Jennifer nor Kira—nor even the beach itself. “What did you say?”
Benjamin’s apparent confusion left Kira herself uncertain. When she had first entered the Celestial Temple years earlier, she had encountered the Emissary—or at least some fragment of him that still existed with the Prophets—but his questions at the current moment belied that interpretation of the man she saw before her. Nor did it seem as though she stood on the beach with the Ben Sisko who had resided for a time in the Celestial Temple and then returned to Bajor.
Unsure of what she could conclude about the version of the Emissary she saw, Kira studied him. She noticed that he did not wear the casual beach attire she’d first seen him in, but a Starfleet uniform, and in the next moment, she realized that they no longer stood on a long stretch of oceanfront sand, but in a conference room aboard a Federation starship. Kira staggered, then caught herself. She focused on her new environs, which no longer included Jennifer. Instead, she watched Captain Jean-Luc Picard—no doubt a representation employed by another Prophet—pace in front of Benjamin and come to a stop. “It is responding to visual and auditory stimuli,” Picard said. “Linguistic communication.”
“Yes, linguistic communication,” Benjamin said, his eyes tracking with the Enterprise captain, evidently at last aware of his own surroundings. “Are you capable of communicating with me?”
What? Kira thought. But Benjamin has spok
en with the Prophets. He is Their Emissary. Kira wondered if perhaps he did not recognize Them in Their human guises.
A hand reached between the two men and up to Benjamin’s cheek, where it gently guided his head so that he looked in another direction. Kira turned her head as well and somehow peered not at another part of the Enterprise conference room, but into a section of a Bajoran monastery. The unexpected change in location once more caused a wave of dizziness to spill over her, but she fought to maintain her balance, and she quickly righted herself.
The guiding hand, Kira saw, belonged to Opaka Sulan. It seemed perfectly appropriate for a Prophet to assume the likeness of the Bajoran spiritual leader, a former kai and a woman whom Kira revered. Captain Picard had gone, leaving only the Emissary and the kai facing each other. Numerous candles flickered around the tableau, sending patterns of orange light wavering across Opaka’s sallow features and Benjamin’s rich brown flesh.
“What . . . are you?” the kai asked. The question made no sense to Kira. The Prophets knew Benjamin, had selected him as Their Emissary, had ensured his birth so that he could fulfill that role. Surely They must know his origin.
“My species is known as human,” Benjamin said. “I come from a planet called Earth.”
“Earth?” asked another Prophet in the form of Benjamin’s son, Jake. The boy—for the Jake Sisko before Kira had yet to grow into a man—sat in a pastoral setting, above a pond, his legs dangling from the edge of a covered plank bridge. Kira had anticipated more transitions to new locations, and so the latest felt less jarring to her. She could still hear the pulse of her heart.
“This is what my planet looks like,” Benjamin said, sitting beside Jake with his back to one of the bridge’s support posts. Opaka had gone; apparently only Kira and Benjamin conveyed from one scene to the next. “You and I are very different species. It will take time for us to understand one another.”
The exchange continued to perplex Kira. She opened her mouth to speak with Benjamin, as she had the first time she’d visited the Celestial Temple, but then she realized that he did not wear the current uniform of Starfleet—gray shoulders on a black shirt—but an older pattern, with red shoulders. She also saw only three rank pips at his neck rather than four, distinguishing him not as a captain but as a commander. It all seemed consistent with Jake’s recaptured youth.
And does Benjamin also look younger? Kira asked herself. She hadn’t thought so, perhaps because his close-cropped hair and clean-shaven face matched his appearance when she’d most recently seen him just fifteen days earlier. As she studied his aspect, though, she discerned that he hadn’t yet accrued all the years since last he’d worn a red-shouldered uniform.
Kira looked down and took stock of her own apparel. She expected to find herself in old Bajoran Militia regalia, but instead did not see a uniform at all—not anything she’d worn while serving in the Militia or in Starfleet—or even the vestments of a vedek, but simple civilian clothing. She wore brown slacks and a textured crimson blouse, with a yellowish-green knit vest—precisely the outfit she’d dressed in that morning, although the memory of that time seemed very distant.
“What is this . . . time?” Jake asked. He could have been responding to Kira’s thoughts, but he still peered at Benjamin, who had just said that it would take time for him and the Prophets to understand each other. Clearly the Prophet did not question the word but rather the concept. However Kira perceived the dialogue unspooling before her, the reality of the interaction between Benjamin and the Prophets must be transpiring on a deeper level.
And what about time? Kira thought. According to the Emissary, the Prophets did not live a linear existence. They had no past and no future, only a present that encompassed the totality of Their lives. They transcended time.
But if Their past and future are one and the same as Their present, Kira pondered, then how can They not know the Emissary? How could there ever have been a time when They didn’t know him?
Kira didn’t understand, but that didn’t trouble her. She accepted her incomprehension with equanimity. Throughout her life, she’d read the sacred texts, but she hadn’t always gleaned their meaning. She’d consulted the Orbs of the Prophets and had been swept away by the visions that they sometimes imparted to her, but almost always without her divining just how those experiences related to her own life. Even in the face of not knowing, though, Kira’s faith in the Prophets sustained her.
The vedek noticed Benjamin wearing a bewildered expression. She didn’t know if she could communicate with him—she didn’t even know if he could see her, and if he could, whether he recognized her for herself—but she decided again to try. Before she could say a word, though, Benjamin jerked his head around to one side. When Kira looked where he did, she saw Captain Picard in the Enterprise conference room again.
“The creature must be destroyed before it destroys us,” Picard said, urgency clearly driving his words. Kira trusted in the Prophets, but it did not sound right to her ear for Them to refer to Benjamin as a creature, much less for Them to assert that he should be destroyed, or that he would—or even could—destroy Them. It occurred to her that the Pah-wraiths might be attempting to deceive her, but she dismissed the idea: Kira knew, she could feel, the presence of the Prophets.
Again without warning, the location shifted. On the crowded bridge of a starship—U.S.S. Saratoga, Kira somehow knew—she beheld on the main viewscreen the image of Jean-Luc Picard transformed into a Borg drone. “It is malevolent,” announced the altered captain, continuing to sound the Prophets’ alarm against Benjamin.
On a baseball diamond, players uniformed in white prepared to play. One man stood at home plate and swung a wooden bat at a pitched ball. “Aggressive,” he declared. “Adversarial.”
Back on Enterprise, in the conference room, Captain Picard said, “It must be destroyed.”
“I am not your enemy,” Benjamin contended. “I was sent here by the people you contacted.”
Picard circled around Benjamin. “Contacted?”
“With your devices. Your Orbs.” The Bajoran faith held that the Orbs provided indirect physical links to the Prophets.
“We seek contact with other life-forms,” said Picard, “not corporeal creatures who annihilate us.” The fearful words gave Kira pause.
“I have not come to annihilate anyone,” Benjamin insisted.
On the main viewscreen on the Saratoga bridge, the Borg-modified Picard said, “Destroy it now.”
From among the crew, Benjamin walked out from behind a freestanding control console and into the center of the compartment. “My species respects life above all else,” he said, addressing the Borg-altered Picard on the main screen. “Can you say the same?” When he received no reply, he turned and regarded the other personnel on the bridge. “I do not understand the threat I bring to you—”
Neither do I, Kira thought.
“—but I am not your enemy,” Benjamin finished. Saratoga’s Vulcan captain—another Prophet—looked to the other officers, but their attention remained on Benjamin. “Allow me to prove it.”
“Prove it?” asked Opaka in the monastery.
“It can be argued that a human is ultimately the sum of his experiences,” Benjamin told the kai.
“Experiences?” asked Jake from where he sat on the covered bridge that crossed the pond. “What is this?”
“Memories,” Benjamin said. “Events from my past, like this one.” He gestured to take in the setting.
“Past?” Jake asked.
“Things that happened before now,” Benjamin said. Jake responded with only a look of bafflement. “You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about.”
“What comes before now is no different than what is now, or what is to come,” averred Jake. “It is one’s existence.”
“Then for you,” Benjamin reckoned, “there is no linear time.”
Walking along the beach beside Benjamin, Jennifer asked, “Linear time . . . what is this?”
“My species lives in one point in time,” Benjamin said, “and once we move beyond that point, it becomes the past. The future, all that is still to come, does not exist yet for us.”
“Does not exist yet?” Jennifer asked.
“That is the nature of our linear existence,” Benjamin asserted, “and if you examine it more closely, you will see that you do not need to fear me.”
Look at who I’ve been, at what I’ve done, and You’ll see who I will be, the types of actions I will take, Kira thought, following Benjamin’s reasoning, though she could not fathom why he would need to make such an argument to the Prophets. He is Their Emissary, she thought. Why would They—
And then Kira understood. She didn’t know the true location of her body, whether she actually moved from place to place with each apparent change of scene, or whether she physically remained in the Celestial Temple and only her mind traveled. Nor did she know whether all that she saw and heard simply comprised images and sounds playing across her consciousness, but regardless, she realized that what she observed had already occurred fourteen years earlier. I’m seeing the first meeting of the Emissary with the Prophets, she thought, feeling a deep reverence. I’m witnessing history.
Star Trek: The Fall: Revelation and Dust Page 3
