Star Trek: The Fall: Revelation and Dust

by David R. George III

  “Well, one of them’s right here,” Kasidy said.

  To Sisko’s left, in the near corner of the large living area, Kasidy leaned over their dining table, setting down napkins and utensils. She wore a fetching outfit of a dark ankle-length skirt and a sleeveless cinnamon-red blouse. Sisko quickly sidled in the other direction, to where his desk sat against the inner bulkhead, and tossed down his padd. The device skittered to a stop beside the computer interface, where an indicator light flashed, signaling that he’d received an incoming transmission. The ship’s security chief, Lieutenant Commander Uteln, had informed him of the message a few minutes before, when Sisko had been down in engineering, conducting an inspection.

  Ignoring the communication for the moment, Sisko headed over to the dining table and cozied up behind Kasidy. He curled his arms around her midsection, pulled her toward him, and nuzzled his face against her neck. Kasidy softened her body and pressed back against him, offering a small purr of approval.

  “Here’s my old girl,” Sisko said, breathing warmly against his wife’s flesh.

  Kasidy stiffened. “Excuse me, Captain?” she said, her tone playful despite the challenge in her words. “Would you like a second chance to deliver that line?”

  Sisko realized his faux pas and tried to explain. “I meant old only in comparison to our eight-, soon to be nine-year-old daughter,” he said. In just a couple of weeks, they would celebrate Rebecca’s birthday.

  “Uh huh,” Kasidy said, obviously unconvinced. “I don’t really care what you meant.” She began to turn, and Sisko loosened his arms about her so that she could move freely. When she faced him, she threw her arms over his shoulders. “You might try woman and girl, or even girl and baby girl, but I’d stay away from the word old if I were you.”

  “Message received,” Sisko said. “But for the record, even though it’s been almost fourteen years, you look younger than the day I met you.”

  “Better,” Kasidy said.

  Sisko lowered his head and pressed his lips against Kasidy’s. They shared a soft, slow kiss. When they parted, he said, “My favorite part of completing my duty shift.”

  “Mine too,” Kasidy said. They kissed again. When they gazed at each other once more, Kasidy reached up and ran her hand across Sisko’s bare pate. “Very nice,” she said. “You’ve got that sleek, sexy look again.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Just a few days prior, Sisko had decided to shave his head for the first time in several years—for the first time since he’d left Kasidy. He’d also thought about regrowing his goatee, though he’d chosen not to, at least for the time being.

  Sisko glanced over Kasidy’s shoulder at the table. “Only two place settings?”

  “Rebecca spent the afternoon after school over at the Dorsons’ cabin, and they invited her to stay for dinner.” Kasidy stepped away from Sisko, circled the table, and headed toward the replicator. “Rebecca’s class has been assigned a report on any domesticated animal in the Federation, and she and Elent are working together on theirs.” In the year that Sisko’s wife and daughter had lived full time aboard Robinson, Rebecca had made only a few friends, none of them closer than Elent Dorson. The child of two unjoined Trill who served in the crew, Elent had already turned ten. Though sweet and adorable in her own way, she had a boisterous and even forceful disposition, and so seemed to Sisko an unlikely companion for his daughter. Even back on Bajor, Rebecca had kept only a small circle of friends, and she’d typically gravitated to a leadership role among them, which seemed incompatible with Elent’s inflated personality. In addition, Rebecca, small even for her own age, had been promoted from second grade to fourth, making her a full year younger than her classmates; as a result, Elent, a tall girl, towered over her. Still, the two had become fast friends when they’d attended fourth grade together aboard Robinson, and that evidently continued as they began the fifth.

  “What animal are they doing their report on?” Sisko asked.

  “The last I heard, they’d narrowed it down to a pylchyk and a Denebian slime devil.”

  “A Denebian slime devil?” Sisko said. “Since when are they domesticated?”

  “Elent apparently found an example of somebody, somewhere, keeping one as a pet,” Kasidy said. “I don’t think it’s going to matter, though. I think Rebecca has them leaning toward studying the pylchyk.”

  “Of course she does,” Sisko said. Rebecca had first encountered the Bajoran draft animals a few years earlier. She’d taken an immediate liking to them, and she’d never lost that affinity.

  Kasidy opened the cabinet beside the replicator and retrieved a tall, slender bottle of curved, translucent glass. It contained a pale blue liquid. “Since it’s just us for dinner tonight,” she said, holding up the bottle, “I thought we could open this.”

  “Springwine?” Sisko said. “Is that one of ours?” When he and Kasidy had made a home with their daughter on Bajor upon his return from the Celestial Temple, they’d talked about harvesting the kava fruit they grew on their land, fermenting its juices, and bottling their own springwine. They never actually got around to doing that, though, but they did find a small local winery—Adarak Cellars—whose vintage they thoroughly enjoyed. The vintner never produced much, but Sisko and Kasidy acquired what they could. Between the amount the couple gave away as gifts and what they consumed themselves, a single year’s procurement never lasted them even as long as the subsequent year’s press. After Sisko reenlisted in Starfleet and left Kendra Province to serve as captain of Robinson, Kasidy stopped getting the wine. As far as he knew, they had no bottles of it left.

  “It’s not exactly one of ours, but it is from Adarak Cellars,” Kasidy said. “Remember the last time I was on Bajor, I ate lunch with Jasmine?” When Rebecca had been abducted at the age of three by an Ohalu extremist, Jasmine Tey, a former member of the first minister’s security team, had played a pivotal role in rescuing her and bringing her safely back home. Afterward, Sisko and Kasidy had retained the highly skilled operative. Rebecca loved “Auntie” Jasmine, who had ostensibly helped around the house a few times per week, but who’d actually served as a bodyguard.

  “I remember,” Sisko said. The assignment of the Robinson crew to take on some of the tasks of the destroyed Deep Space 9 during the construction of the replacement station had allowed their family to continue visiting Bajor regularly, which they did mostly to see friends; Jake and his wife, Azeni Korena, remained on Earth, in New Zealand, while he studied writing at the Pennington School. Kasidy had been on Bajor herself a couple of weeks earlier, though, meeting with an agent of the Diplomatic Corps regarding her relatively new position as a Federation envoy.

  “We’ve given Jasmine quite a few bottles over the years, and she still had a few left,” Kasidy said. “She knew we didn’t have any ourselves anymore, so she thought we’d appreciate getting one back as a going-away present.”

  Kasidy walked back over to Sisko and handed him the bottle. He read the date carved into the top of its cork: 2377, one of the very best vintages. “That was very thoughtful of Jasmine,” he said.

  “I know.” Kasidy took the bottle back and set it down on the table. “I’ve got the replicator programmed. We can have dinner whenever you’re ready.”

  “I want to get out of my uniform, and I’ve got an incoming transmission I need to look at,” Sisko said. “Five minutes, maybe ten, depending on the message.”

  “Great,” Kasidy said. “I’ll uncork the wine and finish getting ready.”

  Sisko leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips, then padded around the table and through the single-paneled door in the side bulkhead. He quickly ducked right, through another door and into his and Kasidy’s refresher, where he washed up. He then crossed the width of the short corridor into their closet, where he picked out dark brown slacks and a red-and-yellow dashiki. He carried the clothes down the hall to their bedroom.

  Sisko tossed his civilian togs onto the bed, then turned to the companel set into t
he inner bulkhead. As he pulled off his uniform shirt, he said, “Computer, play my incoming message.” Uteln had told him that the transmission had originated on U.S.S. Aventine—Dax’s ship—and so he anticipated that it had been sent by his old friend. He’d known Dax for more than thirty years, through three permanent hosts: Curzon Antrani, Jadzia Idaris, and Ezri Tigan. All of them had surprised him many times during their friendships, but perhaps none more so than Ezri, whose petite frame, gentle nature, and chosen profession as a counselor had ultimately transformed into a strong and capable woman taking on the responsibilities of a starship captain. He wondered why she’d sent him a message, and whether she’d done so on a personal level or as a matter of Starfleet business.

  When the companel activated, though, the image of the person that appeared in place of the Starfleet emblem did not belong to Ezri Dax. Still, Sisko recognized the face immediately. He had picked up his dashiki and begun to pull it on, but he stopped at once, freezing in place. The woman on the display wore her white hair pulled back behind her head, and deep lines creased her features, particularly around her eyes and mouth. He thought she looked much older than when last he’d had personal contact with her, adding credence to the common notion that her position rapidly aged whoever held it.

  “Captain Sisko,” she said, “this is Nan Bacco.” The voice of the Federation president had a husky quality to it, whether from fatigue or her advanced years—she had to be closing in on a hundred—or some other cause, Sisko didn’t know. “I am currently aboard the Starfleet vessel Aventine, on my way to Deep Space Nine for the dedication ceremony. I will be arriving tomorrow, a day ahead of the festivities. In that time, I would like to meet with Odo. Since you are better acquainted with Mister Odo than any other Starfleet officer, I would like you to arrange this meeting aboard the new star-base. I’d like you to attend the meeting as well.”

  The request—or order, really—surprised Sisko. When Odo had first arrived back in the Alpha Quadrant, coincident with the collapse of the Bajoran wormhole, members of both Starfleet Command and the Federation government had arranged to speak with him on several occasions. Sisko had learned from Odo himself, as well as from Admiral Akaar—Starfleet’s commander in chief—that the UFP had sought information about the current state of the Dominion and the Founders. Odo had declined to provide any such information, other than to state categorically that his people and their empire posed no threat to the Federation.

  “Please convey to Mister Odo that I would like only a few minutes of his time, but that I believe he will find it of import to him,” Bacco continued. “Also, please inform him that I will be asking nothing about his people or the Dominion. This is not an intelligence or a defense matter.”

  Sisko had no idea what President Bacco wanted to discuss with Odo, but he thought her shrewd. She had characterized her request for a meeting in just about the only way he believed Odo would ever agree to meet with her. For Odo’s sake, Sisko hoped that the president, in doing so, did not dissemble.

  “Please contact me aboard the Aventine when you have made the arrangements, Captain,” Bacco concluded. She reached forward to the companel at which she sat and tapped a control, ending the transmission. The Starfleet insignia appeared on the display. Sisko pulled his dashiki over his head, then deactivated his own companel with a touch.

  “Captain to bridge,” he said.

  “Bridge,” came the immediate response. “Lieutenant Radickey here.”

  “Lieutenant, I need you to attempt to contact Odo,” Sisko said.

  “On Bajor, sir?” Radickey asked.

  “Yes,” Sisko said. “You know where he stays when he’s on the planet. If he’s there, I’d like to speak with him. If not, leave word that I’d like him to contact me as soon as he’s able.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Sisko out.” The captain hadn’t spoken to Odo for perhaps two months, just as the Changeling had been preparing to depart Bajor again. Sisko knew that, back then, Captain Ro had asked Odo to the DS9 dedication, and he thought that the first minister had also extended an invitation to him. Before leaving Bajor, Odo had indicated that he would return in time to attend the ceremony.

  The captain finished changing out of his uniform, then headed back out into the living area. The door to Rebecca’s bedroom stood closed on the other side of the compartment. Sisko saw a glowpane hanging on the panel, but he couldn’t read the words on it from that distance. “Did Rebecca put up a new sign?”

  “She did,” Kasidy replied. “It says, Authorized Personnel Prohibited.”

  Sisko barked out a laugh at the oxymoronic statement. Rebecca had first put up a glowpane on her door half a year or so earlier, after mounting an argument about having to clean her room. Her first pane had read, in her curiously meticulous hand, Parents Stay Out! When she’d soon discovered that her parents approved of neither the sign nor the sentiment, she’d changed it to, Who’s There? which had the peculiar effect of causing Sisko and Kasidy to announce themselves at Rebecca’s door even before touching the signal or knocking. Shortly after that, Rebecca had altered the pane to read, When is a door not a door? Disappointed that her parents knew the answer to the riddle at once—Rebecca revealed that, once Sisko and Kasidy had read but couldn’t answer the question, she planned to leave her door half open—she began rewriting the panel frequently. Her next had asserted, You are what you read. That had elicited high marks from her parents, which had pleased Rebecca. It seemed as though she sought a reaction—any reaction—to what she posted. She’d alternately attempted humor, wisdom, provocation, even mere silliness. Sisko and Kasidy enjoyed her creativity.

  “Your daughter’s too clever by half,” the captain told Kasidy with a smile.

  “My daughter?” Kasidy said. “You’re the one who’s in charge of the personnel on this ship.”

  “Yes, but we all know who’s in charge in these quarters,” Sisko pointed out, still smiling.

  Kasidy walked over and placed the tip of one finger in the middle of Sisko’s chest. “And don’t you forget it,” she said. “Are you ready for dinner?”

  “Yes, and I’m hungry.” He noticed that Kasidy had placed candles on the table and lighted them. “Everything looks lovely.”

  “Since we don’t often get to enjoy dinner alone, I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity. Why don’t you pour and I’ll get our food?”

  “All right.” As Kasidy went to the replicator, Sisko picked up the bottle of springwine. The cork had already been removed, and so he filled a pair of fluted glasses with the light blue liquid.

  Kasidy touched a control on the replicator, and two plates appeared, one of them larger and one smaller. She carried them to the table. “We’ve got a spinach salad with strawberries and toasted almonds,” she said, setting the smaller dish down. “And grilled seitan with smoky paprika, roasted potatoes, and Argelian sweet corn.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Sisko said. He loved seitan, particularly the way Kasidy prepared it—or when she used a replicator, the way she had it prepared. She placed the larger dish beside the first, then went back to the replicator and summoned up a second meal. Once she’d set those two plates on the table, Sisko pulled out a chair for her.

  “My, aren’t we gallant this evening?” Kasidy said, smiling widely.

  Sisko leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Since we don’t get to enjoy dinner alone that often, I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity,” repeating the words she’d used a moment earlier.

  Kasidy looked up at him over her shoulder. “I like the way you think, Captain,” she said. He kissed her again, gently and easily, but not without passion. It amazed Sisko how far back they had come from the precipice.

  When they ended the kiss, Sisko sat down opposite Kasidy. “Computer, lights down one-half,” he said, and the room immediately dimmed, giving more life to the candles. “Play some light jazz,” he added. “Something romantic.” The slow, tuneful notes of a horn began to float th
rough their cabin.

  “Well done, Ben.”

  “And to you, Kas,” Sisko said, gesturing toward their dinner. He lifted his glass and tilted it in Kasidy’s direction. “To my beautiful, talented, and young wife.”

  Kasidy raised her own glass. “And to my handsome, talented, and wise husband,” she said. They touched their glasses together with a clink.

  “To us,” Sisko added, and as they both sampled the springwine they had acquired together eight years prior, he marveled again at the journey they’d taken—at the fact that they’d ended up back in each other’s arms after all of the terrible events through which they’d suffered.

  It’s not just the journey that awes me, Sisko thought. It’s Kasidy. More than four years ago, he’d essentially abandoned her. That he’d done so for the best of reasons—to ensure the safety of their family—did not detract from the pain he had caused her. It had taken a shared vision of Kira Nerys releasing Sisko from his obligations to the Prophets for him to return to Kasidy, and for her to accept him back.

  The two years since they’d resumed their relationship hadn’t always been easy. Sisko had lost his wife’s trust—had mangled it and thrown it away—and he could only hope that he would, through his renewed commitment to her, earn it back one day. As much as he loved and respected Kasidy, though, he had underestimated her capacity for forgiveness. While she felt it vital that Sisko understand precisely how his actions had impacted her and Rebecca, she also sought to comprehend, on an emotional level, just what he had gone through. Her willingness and ability to do that, the depth of her compassion, had given them both a solid foundation on which to rebuild their marriage.

  In addition, Kasidy had been willing to examine and change a belief she had held for a long time. She’d always felt strongly that parents needed to provide their children with a safe, consistent, suitable environment in which to grow up, and that a list of such places did not include the inside of a starship. In his time away from Kasidy and Rebecca, though, Sisko had returned to Starfleet as the commander of U.S.S. Robinson. When he and Kasidy reunited, he offered to resign his commission. To his surprise, Kasidy didn’t immediately accept his proposal.