Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: The Soul Key (14 page)

W
ith great reluctance, Vaughn opened his eyes, knowing that he needed to get past the identity of the messenger and focus instead on the message.

Ashalla’s been destroyed. My God, the rebels have attacked Bajor….

“Prynn, how do you know this?” Jaro asked.

For the first time since he’d met the man, Vaughn heard a tremor in Jaro’s voice.

Prynn continued to weep, a sound he so often heard in his nightmares, her anguish a knife-thrust into his heart.
She’s not your daughter,
Vaughn reminded himself.
Get hold of yourself.

He thought he’d been sufficiently prepared for this encounter. Intellectually, he’d understood what he was getting into the moment Kira had allowed him to join her on the transporter platform. And when first Opaka, and then Jaro, had recognized him, he knew the possibility of meeting Prynn’s double in this place had risen dramatically.

Still, it was all hitting him with the force of a hammer.

Ashalla’s been destroyed.

“Prynn!” Jaro repeated, more forcefully this time. “How do you know?”

“Essa, please,” Opaka said, still holding the young woman in her arms. “Give her a moment.”

Very slowly, Prynn seemed to be regaining control of herself. Vaughn thought she would turn around and face the rest of them any second now.

Vaughn stood up. For some reason, he backed away from the table.

“It’s all over the comnet,” Prynn told Jaro. “The city was bombarded from orbit. They’re estimating a death toll as high as two million people. First Minister Li and at least half the Parliament were in the capital during the bombardment. The whole planet’s in chaos.”

“O’Brien,” Winn said through gritted teeth.

Opaka seemed to sag within herself. “It was supposed to be a bluff,” she said. “He gave me his word that he would never actually—”

“A Terran’s word,” Winn said with undisguised bitterness.

Prynn opened her mouth to speak, looking as if she wanted to protest vehemently Winn’s condemnation of her entire species, but didn’t know how.

“Let it go, child,” Opaka counseled her as she shot Winn a hostile glare. “Adami is just upset, as we all are.”

“What of the fleet?” Jaro wanted to know. “What of the space station?”

Prynn swallowed. “The Alliance is confirming that the Intendant has retaken Terok Nor. She’s assuming
control over planetary affairs from the station for the duration of the current state of emergency.”

The Bajorans looked at one another, all color draining from their faces.

“Go, child,” Opaka told Prynn. “See what else you can learn.”

“But I—”

“Sshh,” Opaka said gently. “Go. I’ll call on you later.”

Prynn nodded and turned to leave while the Bajorans started arguing among themselves. Her hair was longer than his daughter’s, Vaughn noted, tied back from her face, much the way Ruriko had sometimes worn it.

Ruriko. My God, what if she’s alive here?

Suddenly Prynn noticed him. She stopped. She stared. And while Vaughn doubted she was over the devastation she’d clearly felt over Ashalla, it seemed that for those few seconds, at least, she’d forgotten it.

Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded to her.

A moment later, she nodded back, and then she proceeded out the door.

“—unconscionable!” Winn was shouting. “You heard her, Sulan! Two million people are dead! Once again, the Terrans stand revealed for what they truly are.”

“We should have done more,” Opaka muttered, shaking her head dejectedly. “If we had tried harder to turn Bajor against the Alliance sooner—”

“They might well have turned their fleet against us,” Winn said.

“How are we to go on after this?” said Opaka.

“We cannot! Our movement’s alignment with the
Terran rebellion is finished. Vekobet must be shut down immediately. If anyone learns we’ve been aiding and abetting the rebellion—”

“What of the Shards?” said Opaka.

Winn seemed buoyed, at least somewhat, by a renewed sense of purpose. “We created the emergency tunnel in the reliquary for eventualities such as this one, Sulan. Essa can take a few of the guards, escape the valley, and move the artifacts downriver to the enclave in Mylea.”

Opaka shook her head. “But we cannot simply—”

“Enough!” Jaro shouted. “It’s done!”

Both Winn and Opaka were shocked into silence. Jaro fell back into his chair, holding his head in his hands.

“It’s over,” he whispered to no one and everyone.

“The
kosst
it is,” Kira said, suddenly grabbing the edge of the table with both hands and toppling it over. The other Bajorans jumped back as food and furniture crashed. But at least she had their full attention.

“How
dare
you?” Jaro said through his teeth.

“No. How dare
you?”
the captain shot back, accusing all three of them in one sweeping arm gesture. “After all your talk about the risk to your
pagh
if you did nothing to further your cause, you’re ready to shrivel up and fade away.”

“I see what you are trying to do, Captain,” Jaro said. “You think you can shame us into moving beyond our grief…that we can somehow convince ourselves that those two million deaths can be made to mean something. But nothing we do will bring those people back.
Nothing we do will make their sacrifice worthwhile. It’s too much. It’s too much!”

Kira grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and shook him roughly. “Listen to me. I understand what you’re feeling now.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“I
do,
” Kira said. “I’ve known death and devastation on a scale that I, too, thought was incomprehensible. But it was during those times, when things were at their darkest, that I clung most fiercely to my faith—when I sought out the virtues the Prophets revealed to us. Qualities that empowered me to keep on fighting, to keep trying to do whatever good I could accomplish for my people.

“We can’t help the poor souls of Ashalla now,” the captain continued. “But you people were in this because you wanted to bring about the renewal of Bajor. Well, there are billions of still-living Bajorans out there who need something to believe in, now more than ever, and your time to step up and offer them the strength and wisdom and hope to change their world is
now.
It’s time for the enclaves to do what the Bajoran faith was
meant
to do: bring the people together and guide them closer to the Prophets.”

“If that were enough, Captain, then I would shepherd this flock myself,” Jaro said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But our hope of stopping this madwoman from your continuum is gone now. Even if our so-called contingency plan to reach Terok Nor were still an option, I do not believe the Intendant will be viewed
as anything but a hero after this. And when she opens the Temple Gates, and is recognized as the Emissary…Bajor will follow her on whatever ruinous path she sets, and no rabble of outlaw religious scholars will be able to stand in her way.”

“What if someone else beats her to it?” Vaughn asked. They all looked at him, and he continued, “If the mantle of Emissary is defined by the discovery of the wormhole, then it seems to me the matter is pretty straightforward. Captain Kira and I should be able to find the wormhole of this universe, based on the knowledge we have of ours. If we can get off planet quickly and into the Denorios Belt, then someone else can claim the title before the Intendant does.”

Opaka exchanged an uneasy glance with her fellow enclave leaders. “It was our hope from the start that someone would have already done so by now,” she admitted.

“So where is he?” Vaughn demanded.

Opaka frowned.
“She.
You left her behind in your continuum.”

What?

“Wait a second,” Kira said. “You’re telling us you expected
Ghemor
to become your Emissary?”

“I can’t say it comes as a surprise that she didn’t tell you, Captain,” Winn said. “Iliana rejected most of the revelation that was imparted to her by the Shard of Prophecy and Change, fixating instead on what she learned about her counterpart—the threat that the other Iliana presented. She thought she could stop her without claiming her rightful destiny.”

Kira looked as if she was still trying to process what she was hearing. “You chose
her—?”

“We chose no one,” Opaka said emphatically. “But when she came to us, we each felt her
pagh.
We recognized her for who she is meant to be, despite her protests to the contrary.” She gazed into the middle distance, her eyes glazing with memory. “Ironic. One who did not wish to be among us was to be the Emissary.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kira said quietly. “If I had only known—”

“You’re not at fault, Captain,” Jaro said.

“There must be someone else,” Vaughn prompted.

“This is not a political election, Commander,” Winn said. “This is fate. We cannot simply turn to the next most favorable candidate—”

“Then why are we all worried about the other Iliana opening the Temple Gates? Why was
your
Iliana able to refuse her so-called fate?” Vaughn asked. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because free will
does
make a difference.”

He looked at Jaro and continued. “Look, I can’t pretend to be an expert on the Bajoran religion, but you said it yourself: This isn’t about guarantees. It’s about choices. If the new Intendant is the one to open the wormhole in this universe, then it’s
Bajor
that will anoint her, and it’s
Bajor
that will follow her—no matter
what
the Prophets may have really intended.”

Silence fell over the table, broken a few moments later by Kira. “It has to be one of you.”

“Blasphemy,” Winn said.

Jaro reached out to take his wife’s hand. “Adami…”

“I will not be silent about this, Essa!” Winn said, pull
ing away from him. “Nor will I be party to the arrogance and folly of claiming that holiest of responsibilities for one of us!”

“Overseer Winn,” Kira said gently, “consider the alternative.”

Yes, do that, please,
Vaughn thought. But while their hosts might not be willing to speak about it openly, Vaughn already knew the alternative.
What I don’t understand is why they seem to be protecting him.

“Can you get us off this planet?” Kira pressed Opaka.

“It may be possible,” Opaka said. “I’ll need to contact some friends.”

“Captain,” Vaughn said. “With your permission, I’d like to accompany the Lady Opaka while you and the others sort the rest of this out.”

“Why?” Winn asked.

“Because, respectfully, Chief Overseer, emotions on your world are running pretty high right now, and I want to be there in the event a calmer voice is needed.” Vaughn consoled himself with the thought that the reason he’d given was at least partly true.

“It’s all right, Adami,” Opaka said as she left the table. “Commander Vaughn may keep me company, if that is his wish.”

“Captain?” Vaughn asked.

Kira nodded her assent. “Good luck.”

Vaughn followed Opaka out the refectory’s back door. The sky outside had turned overcast, but Vaughn welcomed the fresher air after having been cooped up for so long in the dining hall. Opaka led him along a
narrow alley between the refectory and another building, and he decided that there might be no better time to pose the question he had been waiting to ask her.

“Lady Opaka, wait.”

She stopped and faced him. “‘Lady Opaka,’” she echoed with grim amusement. “Tell me, Commander, did you come up with that yourself, or are all the Terrans on your side as extravagant in their courtesies?”

Vaughn resisted the impulse to point out that in his universe, only humans from Earth—as opposed to those born on, say, Berengaria VII—referred to themselves as “Terrans.”

“I know that Benjamin Sisko is here,” he said without preamble. “I need you to take me to him.”

Opaka looked startled. “How did you—?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Vaughn said. “You said that you and he fought together before you came to Vekobet, and I know he’s the one who’s supposed to be your Emissary. If you take me to him, I may be able to persuade him to do what he was supposed to have done a long time ago, for all your sakes.”

Opaka stared at him what for seemed like an eternity before saying, “You cannot persuade him, Commander.”

“Let me try,” he implored her. “Please. This is what I was sent here to do.”

Opaka’s eyes narrowed. “Sent? By whom?”

Vaughn sighed. “By his counterpart. The Emissary of
my
Bajor.”

“I see,” Opaka said, her frown deepening. “Very well, then. Follow me.”

They continued down the alley, past a door in the other building. The door was marked with a glyph Vaughn recognized as the Bajoran symbol for healing. They passed it and the roof-access ladder beside it before coming to a stop at another door, whose Bajoran signage read
MEDICAL REFUSE.
Opaka gained them entrance with a thumbscan, and once they were both inside she resealed the door behind them and turned on a light.

Biohazard containers of various sizes were stacked all around the small chamber, which had little space in which to move except for a large open area at the room’s far end.

But other than Vaughn and Opaka, the place was deserted.

He was about to demand an explanation when she drew a small device from her pocket and aimed it at the open area. The bare fusionstone floor immediately faded into nonexistence, allowing a narrow stairwell to emerge from holographic concealment.

Vaughn’s brow furrowed in puzzlement as he followed Opaka down the steps. Going to such elaborate lengths to hide from one’s responsibilities seemed a bit over the top to his mind, but it wasn’t until the musty smell accosted his senses that he realized he wasn’t going to find the object of his quest—at least, not in the manner he had expected.

Opaka paused to light several candles on the shelves that lined the walls, and the room gradually revealed itself: it was the enclave’s reliquary. He saw several icon paintings on the walls, hooks from which hung a num
ber of elaborate Bajoran earrings, stacks of ancient books and scrolls, even some broken statuary.