Chapter Text
Stardate: 51958.8 | Deep Space Nine
Odo stayed in his office long into the night, occupying himself with reports and communiques that could easily have waited till morning—just as he had for the past three days.
At this rate, he was going to run out of work to keep busy. And that wasn’t something he’d previously thought possible.
Then his doors hummed open.
He looked up—and Nerys entered.
She was…smiling?
“Busy?” she asked.
“Uh…” He fumbled. “A little.”
“Well, the captain’s leaving with the task force first thing in the morning,” Kira said. “I’ll have Ops tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
He stared down at his PADD.
“And…?”
“And…” Odo winced, looking back up at her. “I’m sorry I arrested him. I only meant to do my duty—I was afraid to risk neglecting it. But I can see how it might have seemed excessive.”
Kira squinted. “What are you talking about?”
“Vedek Solis?” Odo said. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“No,” Kira said. “But now I know why you’ve been avoiding me for the past few days.”
Odo’s eyes widened. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been…helping you to avoid me!”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because…you don’t want us to be together anymore?”
Kira softened. “Is that what you’ve been thinking?”
She rounded his desk to lean against its edge. Then Odo’s entire substance froze as she took his hands in hers.
“Odo,” she murmured, “we had an argument. But I’ve known since the Reckoning that you’re the one I want to be with, forever.”
Odo blinked.
He couldn’t have drawn breath if he’d tried.
…forever…
Was he hearing things?
“Odo?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “You—you mean that?”
“Of course.”
“But…”
“But what?” she asked softly.
Odo’s eyes fluttered shut.
He might as well just say it. He’d already thought their relationship was over; the worst she could do was confirm that after all.
He sighed. “Nerys…I can’t give you children.”
He watched her, bracing himself for the realization that would cross her face, the disappointment.
But it didn’t come.
“What?” she asked.
“I can’t—”
She put up a hand. “No, I heard what you said. But—let me get this straight. You think I’d leave you because you can’t give me children?”
He looked up at her. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Why would you think that?”
Odo frowned. “Three weeks ago, on the Defiant, when you watched Kirayoshi…you said you might want a child of your own.”
Then, realization did cross her face.
But it was accompanied by softness.
“Is that what’s been bothering you the last few weeks?” she asked.
Odo sighed. Nodded.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I was…too afraid of the answer,” Odo admitted. “I suppose I just…wanted to enjoy what we had while it lasted.”
Kira’s face creased with sympathy.
“And,” Odo added, “after the Reckoning…I worried that coming to you like that all the time wouldn’t be romantic. It seemed you’d spent our entire relationship…comforting me. I couldn’t imagine you’d tolerate that for long.”
“Odo,” Kira said, squeezing his fingers, “I love it when you talk to me. And to tell you the truth, it’s wonderful to be able to hold you.”
He stared up at her in bafflement. “Why?”
“Wouldn’t you get the same satisfaction from being there for me, comforting me?”
“Without a doubt.” Odo smiled. “I…think I understand.”
“Good,” Kira said. “And on the subject of children, if we want to one day, we can adopt. Or get a surrogate. We have options.”
Her words stopped Odo in his tracks. “You…want to raise a child with me?”
She smiled. “Someday, maybe. If you do.”
Odo’s eyes blew wide.
She wanted him.
Loved him.
Was committed to him.
…you’re the one I want to be with, forever…
…I’ve known since the Reckoning…
This was, he knew, born out of his respect for her—for her faith, her beliefs, her choices, even when it had pained him. Even when it had torn him apart inside. Even when the sight of her lying in her grave was burned into his memory.
She had chosen him.
That was worth…everything.
He would gladly bear his memories of Gaia—and of the Reckoning—if it meant Kira felt respected.
“Nerys,” he murmured.
Smiling, Kira knelt before his chair, his hands still clasped in hers. “I love you, Odo.”
“And I love you.”
“And,” she said, “I’ll be tied to Ops, tomorrow, while the captain’s away…so I thought we could spend tonight together.”
Odo’s entire being loosened. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
“Then I’ll see you later,” she said softly.
“I look forward to that.”
“Good.”
Her smile brightened her entire face, captivating him. And then she leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Time stopped. The world beyond drifted behind a haze as every atom of Odo’s being shivered at the contact, as his breath stalled in his chest, savoring the feel of her lips against his.
Savoring the knowledge that he got to keep this.
That she loved him, just as he had loved her for so many years.
That she chose him, as her partner.
That this would last.
Happiness was…in the cards for him, it seemed. Something he’d never quite thought possible in the years he’d spent alone.
Kira pulled back.
“You know, Nerys…” Odo weaved their fingers together. “Observing humanoid relationships and being in one…are very different things.”
She smiled. “Like night and day.”
*
Dominion Headquarters | Cardassia
Damar studied the tactical readout. “The enemy fleet is approaching the Chin’toka system.”
“What’s the status of our weapon platforms?” Weyoun asked.
Damar hesitated a beat.
“Still off line.”
Weyoun sighed. “It pains me to say this, but you Cardassians are proving to be quite a disappointment.”
Damar turned. “I’ll remind you that you said that.”
Weyoun chuckled lightly, shaking his head.
What was it with Cardassians and their constant need to bluster and posture? They seemed far more concerned with reputation and power than results.
And results were what the Dominion needed.
*
The doors to Damar’s quarters had barely hummed shut behind him when a voice croaked from the dark.
“Damar?”
Damar frowned. “Dukat?”
There was no answer—only labored breathing.
“Computer, lights,” Damar ordered.
The room became illuminated, revealing Dukat hunched on the couch, one elbow braced against the armrest as he white-knuckled the leather.
“Dukat?” Damar asked again. “What are you—?”
“Help me,” Dukat gritted out.
Damar’s eyes flicked over his old mentor’s form—from his tightly clenched teeth, to the tension that radiated from every muscle, to his burning red eyes.
“What’s happened to you?” Damar asked.
“I’ve been…possessed.” Dukat stood and leaned heavily on the crest of the couch. “It’s called a Pah-wraith. A demon of Bajoran…superstition.” He growled the word. “You have to help me.”
“Do they know you’re here?”
“Rivun has me on a tight leash. I’ve managed to lengthen it by being suitably…docile.” The last word, he uttered though gritted teeth. “I will not be an instrument for someone else’s purpose!”
Damar hesitated. He knew better than to defy the Dominion.
“Damar.”
Dukat’s burning glare—paired with the wild tension in his face—brooked no argument.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Damar said.
He’d barely uttered the words before Dukat spasmed. His eyes went wild as his mouth opened in a silent, agonized cry, and a haze of red energy momentarily lifted from his body before swirling violently around him. Dukat jerked and stumbled back, fingers scrabbling ineffectually at the couch crest before he collapsed to the floor.
“Dukat!”
Damar rushed to his side, only to be interrupted as the doors to his quarters slid open. Rivun entered, flanked by two Jem’Hadar.
Didn’t the Vorta have any concept of privacy?
“Step aside,” ordered Rivun.
Damar glared up at him. Dukat, meanwhile, was straining, his neck muscles bulging as he thrashed beneath the onslaught.
“I said,” Rivun ordered, “step aside.”
“What are you doing to him?” Damar demanded.
“He has brought this punishment upon himself,” Rivun said. “The Pah-wraith within him does not take kindly to disobedience. Now step aside.”
The Jem’Hadar took aim.
Damar scowled. But he would be a fool to defy a Jem’Hadar; Weyoun never ceased to remind him of his place within the Dominion.
He got to his feet and backed away from Dukat. Then he watched as the Jem’Hadar dragged his still-thrashing mentor away.
*
Stardate: 51959.2 | Deep Space Nine
“If you ask me,” the Chief said, yawning, “it’s an ungodly hour to go to war. You can quote me on that.”
Jake chuckled. “I will.”
“Oh, Jadzia,” O’Brien called over his shoulder, “will you look in on Keiko and the kids while I’m gone?”
Dax nodded. “You can count on it.”
“And try to keep Julian out of trouble.”
“Now that’s pushing,” Dax teased as he and the others ducked through the airlock to the Defiant.
Benjamin looked past her to Kira. “It’s your station, Major.”
Kira dipped her chin. “Good luck, Captain.”
Benjamin nodded.
“Benjamin,” Dax called.
He turned.
“Give ’em hell.”
A broad grin spread across Benjamin’s face before he disembarked through the airlock.
“Well,” Kira said, “I’d better get up to Ops.”
As she spoke, Worf approached the airlock.
“I’ll be right there,” Dax told Kira.
Kira smiled over her shoulder; no doubt she knew Dax wanted to see Worf off.
“Oh!” Suddenly, Kira turned. “Jadzia, I said a prayer at the shrine last night for the two of you.”
“About having a baby?” Dax asked.
“The Prophets can be helpful in such matters,” Kira said, squeezing her arm.
Dax’s heart fluttered; she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, I hope they’re listening.”
Smiling warmly, Kira headed down the corridor.
“Did you hear that?” Dax sidled up to Worf. “We have the Prophets on our side.”
*
USS Defiant
As the fleet warped into the Chin’toka system, a green-blue planet dotted with clouds filled the viewscreen—surrounded by automated defense platforms shaped like metal claws.
“Looks like we’re in luck, Captain,” the Chief reported. “The defensive grid’s still off-line.”
“There are Jem’Hadar fighters approaching,” said T’Sorra. “Bearing 059 mark 031.”
Nog’s eyes were locked on the viewscreen. “They must know they don’t stand a chance against a fleet this size.”
“That will not matter to the Jem’Hadar,” Worf said.
Meanwhile, Jake tapped his stylus idly against his PADD as he drifted closer to the viewscreen—and, unconsciously, closer to his father.
Sisko sensed his movement. “Sit down, Jake.”
“…Right,” Jake said.
The comm beeped. “Martok to Sisko.”
“Go ahead.”
“My attack wing is closest to those Jem’Hadar fighters,” said Martok. “Preparing to engage.”
“Good luck, General,” Sisko said.
Five Klingon warbirds peeled away from the fleet to meet the incoming fighters. Phasers struck—and then a Jem’Hadar fighter twirled directly into a collision course with one of the warbirds.
The warbird blew, taking the fighter with it.
Almost simultaneously, two more fighters dove into a pair of Vor’cha cruisers, tearing them apart.
A warbird scored a hit—only for the damaged fighter to tumble straight down the middle of another Vor’cha.
Nog watched with alarm. “I always thought the Jem’Hadar were crazy.”
Sisko was pleased—or was that disturbed?—to note the distinct lack of panic in the ensign’s voice. He had come a long way. But no cadet deserved to be battle-hardened so quickly.
“There’s method to their madness,” Garak said. “They’re inflicting considerable damage on the Klingons.”
“And,” Worf added, “buying time to get their weapon platforms operational.”
“Sisko to Martok,” Sisko said.
Martok opened a channel on-screen. “The Jem’Hadar have managed to cripple or destroy fifteen of my ships.”
“Do you need any assistance?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Martok said. “Commence firing on the weapon platforms.”
“You heard him,” Sisko said.
The fleet moved in.
Phasers fired; several of the platforms blew. The Defiant jolted as it cruised past one just as it exploded.
Then, as Sisko watched, the platforms ahead began to rotate to face the fleet, their claws opening up. Torpedoes launched and struck the fleet. One phaser beam drilled brutally though an Excelsior-class ship’s hull; the starship tumbled away, adrift, as one pylon blew.
*
Dominion Headquarters | Cardassia
Damar and Weyoun watched with satisfaction as the weapon platforms activated and tore through the incoming fleet.
“I believe you owe me an apology,” Damar said.
Weyoun was smiling. “I believe you’re right.”
Damar smirked.
“Imagine,” Weyoun said, his gaze still locked on the tactical readout. “As we speak, a battalion is headed for Deep Space Nine. We’ll have reinforcements through the wormhole within the hour.”
Damar shot him a side glance. “What you’re doing to Dukat—”
Weyoun glared. “—is no less than he deserves.”
Damar scowled.
“Need I remind you,” Weyoun said, “your former mentor nearly cost us the Alpha Quadrant.”
“Then this is his punishment?”
Weyoun chuckled. “How petty. This is strategic—nothing more, nothing less. Any punishment is incidental.”
Damar scoffed.
“Although,” Weyoun added, “the fact that a previously unpredictable element has not only been neutralized but engineered to service our aims…” He scanned the readout idly. “It’s quite ingenious.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Damar muttered.
*
USS Defiant
On the battlefront, the weapon platforms were tearing through the fleet. An Akira-class starship, already missing half a nacelle, was struck with three phaser beams at once; plasma caught fire on its hull and burned through its saucer.
Meanwhile, a warbird collided with a platform and lost a wing. It twirled past a Vor’cha cruiser whose neck had torn apart.
The Defiant itself shuddered under fire.
“We are unable to penetrate their forcefields,” Worf reported.
“Captain,” Garak said, swiveling. “I’ve just noted something odd about those platforms.”
He was silent for a solid second.
Damned enigmatic—
“Well, don’t keep it to yourself, Mr. Garak!” Sisko said.
“Not one of them seems to have a power generator on board.”
Oh, that could be useful.
“He’s right,” O’Brien reported. “Each one seems to be getting its power from a central source.”
“Then we must find that source,” Worf said, “and destroy it.”
“Chief?” Sisko asked.
“I’m on it!”
*
Deep Space Nine
Dax strolled the promenade upper level alongside Julian. She was due in Ops shortly, but she had a little time.
And at this very moment, work was the furthest thing from her mind.
“According to the DNA scans I did this morning,” Julian said, “the ovarian resequencing enzymes I gave you…appear to be working.”
He lifted his chin with an air of satisfaction. Dax stopped wringing her hands.
“You mean, Worf and I can have a baby?”
Julian grinned. “It certainly looks that way.”
Butterflies danced in Dax’s stomach.
“I must say,” Julian continued, “I didn’t expect such positive results so early. It’s quite amazing, actually.”
Dax threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Julian!”
She released him a moment later; he smiled, nonplussed, and squeezed her hands. “It’s all part of being a doctor.”
“Oh, no, it’s more than that,” Dax insisted. “You’re a good friend. You always have been.”
“And I always will be,” Julian said.
She knew it was the truth.
“Well,” she said, composing herself, “I’d better get back to work.” She nodded to herself, making a decision. “But first I’m going to stop by the Bajoran shrine.”
Julian’s brows furrowed. “What for?”
“Kira said a prayer for me and Worf last night,” Dax said, smiling brightly. “She told the Prophets how much we wanted a baby.”
“Well, I’d say they’ve been listening,” Julian said. “That is, if you believe in the Prophets.”
Dax laughed, grinning. “Oh, well, I do today!”
She squeezed his shoulder. But she had barely stepped past him when her combadge chirped.
“Kira to Dax.”
She sobered. “Dax here.”
“Report to Ops immediately.”
A cold weight settled in Dax’s stomach. “Is there a problem?”
“There’s a Jem’Hadar battalion approaching.”
She and Julian shared a dark look.
“On my way,” Dax said.
*
The station shuddered under phaser fire as Dax rode the turbolift up to Ops.
“Incoming transmission,” reported tactical, just as Dax assumed her science station.
“On screen,” Kira ordered.
An unfamiliar Vorta appeared on the viewscreen. “I am Rivun. The first shot was a warning. I don’t suppose you’d care to lower your shields and make this easier on all of us?”
“I don’t think so, Rivun,” Kira said.
Rivun smiled. “If you insist.”
The comm line severed, reverting to a view of the attacking ships. It was a small fleet—fifty registering on sensors—but still more than enough to take on Deep Space Nine.
“I sure wish the Ninth Fleet were here,” Dax muttered.
The deck jolted; Kira caught herself on the situation table. “We’ll have to manage without them.”
The Jem’Hadar fighters swarmed in toward the station.
“They’re firing phasers,” reported tactical.
“Return fire,” Kira ordered.
The station shuddered beneath Dax’s feet. On the viewscreen, several phaser beams struck home; the disabled fighters tumbled beyond the docking ring.
Then Dax’s console beeped an alert. She frowned at the display.
“Sir,” tactical reported, “it appears they’re only targeting the shield generators.”
“Divert auxiliary power,” Kira said.
“Strange,” Dax said. “Rivun specifically asked us to lower our shields. Not surrender.”
Kira’s eyes flashed to hers.
Then Dax’s console beeped again—and her brows furrowed as she registered the data.
“Major,” she said, “I’m detecting unusual readings from the wormhole.”
Ops shuddered again; sparks flew.
“What kind of unusual readings?” Kira asked.
“Neutrino emissions are off the scale.” Dax frowned. “These readings are almost identical to—”
Suddenly, the station jolted hard—sending Dax flying back into the console behind her. She hauled herself back upright, ignoring the pain in her neck.
“Report!” Kira ordered.
“A compressed tachyon beam just struck the docking ring,” said tactical. “Shields have failed!”
Kira braced herself against the situation table.
“Major,” Dax said, fingers flying across her readouts, “I’m detecting a transporter beam on—”
“Odo to Kira.”
Kira tapped her combadge. “Report, Constable.”
“Dukat has just beamed onto the promenade.”
“Dukat?”
Kira and Dax exchanged a glance.
“Major, he looks the way Jake did when the Pah-wraith possessed him.”
Kira sucked in a sharp breath. Dax watched a myriad of emotions flash across her face—running the gamut of alarm, fear, and a flicker of awed dread before settling on steely determination.
“Any sign of a Prophet?” she asked.
“Negative, Major.”
Kira nodded once, decisively.
“Toryes,” Kira ordered tactical, “status of the Jem’Hadar ships?”
“Still concentrating fire on the docking ring.” Toryes frowned. “They don’t seem to be making any attempt to destroy the station. They’re just keeping our shields disabled.”
“Try to raise them,” Kira ordered. “Dax, can you activate the chroniton generator?”
“On it,” Dax said.
“Odo,” Kira ordered, “status?”
“Dukat appears to be headed for the Bajoran shrine.” Odo paused. “He’s made no attempt to attack or interact with my deputies.”
“Don’t let him reach the shrine,” Kira said. “Whatever it takes!”
“Understood, Major.”
“Major,” Dax said, “I have the chroniton generator ready.”
Kira nodded. “Now.”
Dax pressed the activation key. All around them, a strange whine emitted from the bulkheads—but, of course, there was no effect on any corporeal entity.
“Major,” Odo reported, “there’s something wrong.”
“Report!”
“Dukat doesn’t seem to be affected.” He hesitated; Dax could hear the generator as a distant whine over the comm. “He seems to be…displaced, somehow. As if he’s in two places at once.”
Kira spun to Dax. “Dax, go see what’s going on.”
Immediately, Dax grabbed a tricorder and made a beeline for the turbolift.