Chapter Text
Stardate: 51149.3 | USS Defiant
The Defiant was dead in space—for the moment.
“Cadet?” Dax prompted.
“Continuing to emit distress signals on all frequencies, sir,” Nog reported.
“Chief?”
“We’re still venting plasma,” O’Brien said. “Any ship within a hundred million kilometers will know we’re here—and that we’re not going anywhere.”
“We have company, Captain,” Nog said. “Two Dominion ships heading this way, bearing 197 mark 135.”
“They’ll have us in weapons range in twenty-two seconds,” said the Chief.
“Shields?” Dax checked.
“Shields at thirty percent,” Nog said.
“Phaser banks?”
“The entire weapons array is off-line,” the Chief said.
Good, Dax thought. “Now we find something to hold on to.”
As she braced herself against the arms of the captain’s chair, the Defiant shuddered under phaser fire. Sparks flew; the computer bleeped alarms.
“Shields are down to twenty percent!” Nog reported.
Come on, Worf…
Not a minute too soon, the Rotarran decloaked ahead and fired. One of the Jem’Hadar ships blew.
“Now?” asked the Chief.
“Now,” Dax said. “Shields up. Engines at full impulse. Power to main phasers!”
“Target locked!” the Chief reported.
“Fire!”
The remaining Jem’Hadar ship exploded in a brilliant fireball. The Defiant peeled away.
“Cadet,” Dax checked, “are there any other Dominion ships out there?”
“None that I can see!”
Excellent.
Dax stood. “This is the captain speaking. All hands, stand down. Good job, people.”
Now that was how this was done.
“We’re being hailed by the Rotarran,” Nog reported. “Commander Worf wants to speak to you.”
“On screen.”
“Well done, Captain,” Worf said from the viewscreen. “You were a very effective decoy.”
“How about next time we switch roles?” Dax teased. “That way, I can rescue you.”
“You may have to wait a while, Captain,” O’Brien reported. “We’ve just received orders from Starfleet Command. All ships in this sector to pull back to Starbase 375.”
Dax sighed. “Fall back again.”
“Engage, retreat,” O’Brien muttered. “Engage, retreat. I tell you, that’s becoming our favorite tune.”
Julian spoke up from across the bridge. “Well, we better think of a new tune fast, or the only song we’re going to be singing is ‘Hail the Conquering Dominion’.”
“I wouldn’t start learning those lyrics just yet, Doctor,” Dax said. To the viewscreen, “Worf, we’ll see you at Starbase 375.”
“I will be waiting,” Worf answered, and ended the transmission.
Dax tapped the coordinates for Starbase 375 into the helm. “Set a course for these coordinates. Warp seven.”
She could remember the days when she had flown the Defiant under Benjamin’s command, and he hadn’t been happy to retreat then, either.
But now he was stationed behind a desk at Starbase 375, giving the orders.
What the hell was he thinking?
*
Starbase 375
Dax strode into Benjamin’s office to find him sitting behind his desk, PADD in hand. He looked up as she entered.
“I don’t know what all you brass hats in Starfleet Command are thinking,” she said, “but take it from a simple field officer—we’re not going to win this war by running away from the enemy!”
Benjamin set down his PADD. “I know that.”
“Benjamin, troop morale is at an all-time low,” Dax said. “Even the Klingons are starting to wonder if we can defeat the Dominion! We need a victory—a big victory—and we need it soon.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Then do something about it!”
“I already have,” he said. “In fact, I’m presenting a plan to Starfleet Command at 0800 tomorrow.”
“What plan?” Dax asked.
He stood and rounded his desk to approach the tactical display on his wall, where Deep Space Nine itself was displayed, overlaid with fleet movements. “We’re going to retake Deep Space Nine.”
Dax smiled.
So, planning fleet movements from a cushy office hadn’t corrupted her old friend after all.
*
Terok Nor
Kira strode clear of the turbolift, just behind Quark. They marched down the corridor of the habitat ring.
“I keep telling myself that Odo never meant to have Rom arrested,” Quark said. “It was all a mistake—bad timing, bad luck.”
“I thought that too at first,” Kira said.
“I have known Odo a long time,” Quark said. “He’s not a collaborator.”
“Then why is your brother still in a holding cell?”
Quark’s silence was answer enough.
Months ago—before the Dominion had taken the station, when she was still reeling from the events of Gaia—she’d wondered how separate Odo really was from his counterpart. Wondered if he was capable of the same horror.
Capable of erasing eight thousand lives in a heartbeat.
She’d denied it. Chosen to believe he was the same man she’d known since the days of the Cardassian occupation, the man she’d trusted with her life on countless occasions, the man she came to when her head was spinning. The firm wall at her back. Her rock. Her best friend.
But now, it seemed, she had her answer.
Eight thousand lives were a drop in a bucket—no irony intended—compared to the entire Alpha Quadrant.
They rounded the corner, bringing Odo’s door into view—as well as two security officers, one Bajoran and one Jem’Hadar, who stood guard.
Here goes nothing.
“We’re here to see Odo,” Quark said.
“The Founders are not to be disturbed,” the Jem’Hadar intoned.
Founders.
Plural.
Including Odo.
“Odo will make an exception for us,” Quark said.
“There are no exceptions.”
Kira lifted her chin. “I’d like to hear that from Odo.”
“I’m sorry, Major, but you’re wasting your time,” the Bajoran deputy said. “His orders were quite clear. He doesn’t want to see anyone—not until his guest has left.”
Kira’s mind reeled back to the time, three years ago, when Odo had first moved into his own quarters on the station. When he had, in his usual dour way, discouraged company from most of the senior staff—but he had, as always, made an exception for her. He’d been warm.
“You’re always welcome here, Major.”
Not anymore, apparently.
Now, as she faced down his deputy, those three years may as well have been a lifetime.
“And how long has his guest been visiting?” she asked.
“As far as I know,” the deputy said, “the female Changeling has not left his quarters for three days.”
Three days.
Ever since the morning of Rom’s arrest.
The morning Odo had told her, in no uncertain terms, just how little she mattered to him.
“I wish I could make you understand. But you can’t. You’re not a Changeling.”
“You’re right. I’m a Solid.”
His serene, detached nod was burned into her memory.
Suddenly, Quark tried to rush the door—only for the Jem’Hadar guard to grab him. “Step away from the door, Ferengi!”
Kira stepped in, shouting, but the deputy stopped her.
“Perhaps it would be best if you left,” he said. “My…colleague here takes his duties very seriously. I…promise to tell Odo you were here.”
Not that it would do any good.
“Let’s go, Quark,” Kira said quietly.
They had their answer.
*
Odo’s matrix felt like it was frozen solid.
Not tense, but glacial.
Cold.
Empty.
“So,” the Founder said, “that is how the Solids experience intimacy.”
He sat with his back to her on the other side of the bed.
The bed.
He hadn’t even had a bed in his quarters before tonight. He’d had to have it beamed in.
She had asked him to show her what he knew of intimacy, from the Solid world. To help her understand him, meet him on familiar ground.
It had been terrible.
“Not all Solids,” he heard himself say. “Humans…Bajorans…”
Kira…
“I really must thank you, Odo,” the Founder said, drawing him from his thoughts.
“For what?”
“For giving me new insight into the Solids,” she said.
“And what have you learned?”
“That what they consider intimacy,” she said, slipping off the bed to walk toward him, “is only a shadow of what we experience in the Great Link.”
He couldn’t look at her.
He’d enjoyed this before, with Arissa—and it had seemed perfectly fulfilling, then.
With the Founder, it had been empty.
Wrong.
If he ever were to experience this again, it should’ve been with—
“You don’t agree?” the Founder asked.
“I…didn’t say that.”
Maybe that was what was wrong. Maybe it had felt so empty because it wasn’t the Link.
The Link…
The Founder sat down next to him. “You have done this before?”
“Not often.”
“But when you have, you enjoyed it?”
“…Yes.”
“And you regret not having experienced it with Major Kira?”
Kira.
Her name sent a sudden, sharp pang through his matrix. “I’d…rather not discuss Major Kira.”
“I don’t see why not,” the Founder replied. “When we Link, your feelings for her are made very clear.”
“Then…why do you insist that we talk about it?”
She hadn’t Linked with him in…how long? He wasn’t sure. But it felt like an eternity. The euphoria of the Link had long since slipped away, leaving emptiness in its wake. His matrix felt so slow and sluggish, like he’d become molasses. But he was still in humanoid form.
“Because talking is still very important to you,” the Founder said. “But one day it won’t be. One day, the Link will be all that you need. And that day is coming soon.”
Something leaped within his substance; his eyes found hers. “Is it?”
“It’s amazing that you have survived this long without it,” the Founder said. “It’s only now, after I’ve been away from the Great Link myself, that I understand how painful it must have been for you!”
“It hasn’t always been easy,” Odo admitted.
“Odo,” the Founder said softly, “you never have to be alone again.”
Then why did he feel more alone now than ever?
“Well,” he said, pushing to his feet, “I’d better be going. There’s a meeting of the station’s ruling council. Dukat and Weyoun are expecting me.”
“That meeting was held three days ago,” the Founder said.
Odo whirled.
“Three days?” He consulted a PADD; it agreed with the Founder. “Three days…” He paced toward his window. “How could I have lost track of that much time?”
“Does that bother you?”
He hesitated.
Felt the way his matrix coiled with anxiety.
“Yes!” he hissed. “It does!”
He wandered toward his window, drawn again by those distant stars—even though one of his people was here, standing behind him, and by all rights, he should want for little else.
“Well, don’t let it,” the Founder soothed. “You’ve been living with the Solids’ concept of time for too long.”
She walked up behind him.
“Let them worry about their meetings, their schedules, their obligations,” she said. “None of that has anything to do with you. You are a Changeling.”
Gently, she took his hand.
“You are timeless,” she said softly.
He turned, his gaze drawn to the hand that held his. She offered her other.
“As am I,” she murmured.
Slowly, sluggishly, he placed his other hand in hers.
Maybe the Link could relieve his sluggishness, his cold emptiness.
He only knew one thing: there was nothing left for him in the Solid world.
He’d abandoned it all.
“If you could experience the Link, you’d know why nothing else matters…”
“…your life here, our friendship—none of that matters?”
“…I wish I could make you understand. But you can’t. You’re not a Changeling…”
“You’re right. I’m a Solid.”
His only hope rested with the Link. With that perfect euphoria he hadn’t felt in far too long.
The Founder lifted their hands between them; he was captivated, his gaze locked on their joined fingers. On his only chance at washing the emptiness away.
Then her fingers liquefied against his, and he was lost.
*
“A week?” Kira hissed. “Are you sure about that?”
“That’s what he said,” Quark said. He poured a drink, studiously not looking at her lest they draw attention. “Believe me, this was no idle boast.”
A week.
One week before the minefield detonated.
Before Dominion reinforcements came pouring through the wormhole.
Before the Alpha Quadrant was as good as doomed.
“We have to stop them,” Kira said.
“And end up in a holding cell like my brother?” Quark asked. “No thanks.” He set another drink down on the counter. “If we could only get to Odo…make him see what’s going on…then maybe he could help us.”
“Forget about Odo.” His betrayal ached, and that was not a wound Kira was willing to prod. “First, we can’t get to him. Second, even if we did, he wouldn’t help us.”
“Then what we have to do,” Quark said, leaning down and lowering his voice, “is warn Starfleet.”
“And how do you suggest we get a message to them?”
“You’re asking me?” Quark said. “You’re the terrorist. I’m just a bartender.”
“There you are,” Jake suddenly said, walking up behind her.
Kira barely glanced his way.
Jake leaned into their huddle. “From the look on your faces, I can see you haven’t had much luck getting Rom out of jail.”
“And the news just keeps getting worse,” Quark muttered.
“It’s not all bad,” Jake said.
“Trust us, Jake,” Kira said, “it is.”
“Not for me,” Jake said, smiling. “I’m getting a message out to my dad.”
Kira exchanged a look with Quark.
Was this her chance?
*
Starbase 375
“Are you sure this is reliable?”
Sisko studied the tactical display in his office; Admiral Ross, behind him, scanned the message Morn had delivered from Deep Space Nine.
“I’ve known the courier for five years,” Sisko said. “I trust him.”
“Then we have a problem,” Ross said. “According to this, the minefield’s coming down in three days. The Ninth Fleet won’t be here for at least four.”
Sisko turned. “Then I suggest we go without them.”
“What about the Klingons?”
“Looks like we go without them, too,” Sisko said. “We’ve run out of time, Admiral.”
“If those Dominion reinforcements come through the wormhole,” Ross said, “we’ll have lost everything.”
“Then we take the ships we have,” Sisko said, “fight our way to Deep Space Nine, and destroy the anti-graviton emitter. It’s our only hope.”
“Do it.”
*
In his office, Ross called up the Enterprise on his viewer.
“Admiral,” Picard greeted, standing from the captain’s chair and tugging his uniform hem.
Benjamin Sisko was an excellent strategist and a daring risk-taker—qualities that Starfleet desperately needed right now. But even so, the math just didn’t add up.
The Dominion would send a large fleet to Bajor.
Starfleet didn’t have enough ships.
But Ross did have one potential ace in the hole: the Federation flagship. The most advanced starship in the fleet, and brand-new—capable of pushing its engines, and maybe, just maybe making it in time. Not to mention, helmed by an android.
If there was any way to flip the odds in their favor, Ross had no doubt that Lt. Commander Data could find it.
“Captain,” Ross addressed Picard, “you still want to join us on the front lines?”
Picard exchanged a glance with Riker. “I take it you no longer want the Enterprise defending the home front?”
“Circumstances have changed,” Ross said. “We need the Enterprise, and we need her now. I need you at Deep Space Nine in three days. Can you do it?”
“Commander?” Picard prompted.
Data glanced over his shoulder. “It will require some engine modifications, but—”
“Data,” Picard pressed.
Data’s brows twitched up. “We will make it happen.”
“Good,” Ross said. “I’ll transmit a situation briefing within the hour. Ross out.”
*
Terok Nor
The promenade looked…different.
Odo couldn’t explain it. As he stood on one of the crossover bridges of the second level, it was as if he were detached from the world, a specter, the activity below registering on his senses just a moment too slow.
That glacial cold still spread through his matrix, curling its icy fingers around him.
“It’s odd,” he mused. “I’ve stood here countless times and yet, somehow it all looks different.”
“It’s the Solids,” the Founder said. “They look small, don’t they? Insignificant.”
“It’s not their fault,” Odo murmured.
The Founder glanced at him. “I’m not placing blame.”
“They’re trapped,” Odo said.
“Confined to a single shape.”
“A single…perspective.”
She shuddered. “It’s so limiting.”
Odo tilted his head slightly as he observed the people below. “I feel sorry for them.”
“They need our guidance, Odo,” the Founder said. “Not our pity.”
She wandered around him, trailed her hand along the balustrade.
“They cherish their freedom,” Odo said.
“We’ll have to break them of that.”
Odo startled. For the first time in—was it three days now? Four?—something in his matrix jolted.
“Break them?” he repeated.
“In a manner of speaking,” the Founder said as she walked along the second level. “Oh, this language of the Solids—it’s so imprecise!”
Odo followed her, frowning.
Had her words been imprecise?
“What exactly do you plan to do?” he asked.
“The Solids are no longer your concern, Odo.” She turned, facing him. “What must be done, will be done. It’s as simple as that.”
That wasn’t an answer. But before he could press the issue, Weyoun approached, hands spread in deference.
“Forgive me for intruding,” he said, “but I have important news about the war.”
“Why don’t you return to your quarters, Odo?” the Founder said. “I’ll join you there shortly.”
He hesitated.
And then, gently, she touched his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “Everything will be fine.”
His eyes searched hers.
“I promise,” she said.
Odo gave her a short nod before walking away.
He had to trust her, didn’t he?
She was one of his own. A Changeling. The only entity in this Solid world who could understand him, accept him, wash away his pain.
But what about the chill that had taken its place?
Could she wash that away, too?
Lost in his thoughts, he descended to the first level. He had just made for the nearest turbolift when something caught his eye through the promenade throng.
A flash of red.
Kira.
He didn’t think. His substance lurched, and his feet moved of their own accord. He pushed past Cardassians and Jem’Hadar, chased her to a turbolift—
“Major!” he called.
The doors closed in his face.
No matter.
He darted for the next turbolift.
*
“Kira!” Odo caught her just around the corner of a corridor. “Kira, wait, please!”
She didn’t even slow down. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“I understand that you’re angry.”
“Oh, you bet I am angry.” She turned, only to catch him in that fierce Kira Nerys gaze. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“Yes…somewhat,” he managed. “I’ve been…occupied.”
“Ah. Dukat is bringing down the minefield, the Federation is about to be overrun by the Dominion reinforcements, and Weyoun has ordered Rom’s execution—and you have been occupied!”
She stormed off, but Odo followed her. “This is so difficult to explain—”
“If you’re gonna talk to me about the Link, don’t bother. I’m a Solid, remember? I won’t understand!”
“Nerys!”
Desperate, he caught her arm. She tore it away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Sorry?” Kira repeated. “That’s what you wanted to tell me? You’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let me tell you something, Odo,” Kira said. “We are way, way past ‘sorry’.”
She stalked away. This time, Odo didn’t follow her.
What had he expected?
What had possessed him to believe that Kira, of all people—someone he loved for her fire as much as her heart—would let him apologize?
If he’d ever had a place in the Solid world, it was gone now.
He’d destroyed it himself.
His people—the Link—were all he had left. Which made returning to the Founder all the more appealing.
She had washed away this pain before.
She could do it again.
*
Stardate: 51156.2 | USS Enterprise-E
The Dominion fleet filled the screen.
Twelve hundred and fifty-four ships. Twice the size of the Federation fleet.
In the space of a second, thousands of permutations of events flitted through Data’s neural net. Automatically, he calculated the odds.
A thirteen percent chance of destroying the anti-graviton beam.
A seventeen percent chance they would survive this fight—only to be annihilated when the Dominion reinforcements arrived.
An eighty-four percent chance of heavy casualties, a crippled fleet, and the fall of the Alpha Quadrant.
It wasn’t Data’s first time in combat. He’d fought the Borg just last year. And, unlike his friends, he had an advantage: he could carry out programmed battle tactics much more accurately with far less direct experience.
Still, the sight of the fleet produced an odd sensation. Was this what humans called “a shiver down one’s spine?”
He could temporarily deactivate the chip. But his friends couldn’t just turn off their emotions.
He’d be missing out on human experience.
"Shields up," Riker ordered. "Red alert!"
The light on the bridge dimmed, flashed red.
“To all ships,” sounded the comm, “this is Captain Sisko. Assume attack formation delta-two.”
The helm complied.
“There’s an old saying,” Sisko said. “Fortune favors the bold. Well…I guess we’re about to find out.”