EMPTY OF ITS lifeblood of people, the station seemed a melancholy place to Sisko.
After five cold restarts, Dax’s computer team still wasn’t rid of whatever type of Bynar code Satr and Leen had input into DS9’s computers, and all internal automated systems remained off-line. Even the main gravity generators hadn’t been brought back into service. As a result, the banners decorating the Promenade all hung at the same skewed angle, and the deck itself was at a slant as if, impossible though it was, the entire station were listing in space.
The litter on the carpeted sections of the deck was a sad reminder of the hasty evacuation of all nonessential station personnel into the habitat ring. And aside from the dim emergency lighting, some fixtures of which were finally beginning to flicker after having been on too long, the only signs of life that remained were the faint sounds of chanting coming from the Bajoran Temple and the opening and closing of the doors to Odo’s office.
Sisko now headed for the Security Office to join the others assembling there.
His ears still rang from the twenty minutes he had stood within the sonic shower, ridding himself of the malodorous sludge of the water-treatment facility, and every muscle in his body still felt the effects of the stun Vash had fired at him. But the physical disorientation he still suffered was not his biggest problem; it was his continued mental confusion. With the uncovering of each new piece of the puzzle—the seemingly unconnected and unexplainable events on the station, the one key element that would make sense of them all, was still missing. And that was annoying the hell out of him.
Halfway between the turbolift and the Security Office Sisko turned to see Bashir striding quickly along the corridor toward him.
“How is he?” Sisko asked. Despite every other threat to the station, O’Brien was his first priority. Worf and his security team had been beamed into the water plant the moment the transporter systems had finally been manually tuned. They’d found Sisko, just coming to, and O’Brien unconscious. Sisko had given the order to evacuate the wounded chief to the Infirmary first.
Bashir’s report offered more mystery. “Interestingly enough, there was another Andorian toxin on the dagger that hit him. Not the same one Vash used on herself, but one intended to incapacitate almost any species. But don’t worry,” the doctor said quickly, seeing the anxious look that Sisko could not keep from his face, “it’s not fatal. At least, not to Miles. He’s too stubborn.”
The doctor glanced around at the unsettling state of the Promenade as they walked towards Odo’s office. “I suppose you’ve already thought about this—but what happens if the Dominion hears about our condition?”
Sisko had thought about that, right after Worf’s team beamed the chief out to the Infirmary. “Admiral Ross has already dispatched the Bondar and the Garneau to provide us support.”
“Akira-class,” Bashir said.
Sisko nodded. “They’ll stand up to anything the Dominion can throw at us. At least for the time being.”
They’d reached the doors of the Security Office. Sisko paused before entering, gathering his strength.
“Something wrong, Captain?” Bashir asked.
Sisko shrugged. “There’s something going on here I don’t understand. And, to be honest, it makes me uneasy.”
“For what it’s worth,” the doctor offered, “when I heard Vash actually had one of the Red Orbs, I thought that explained everything. I mean, I had halfway figured out for myself that the Orbs might be real. So maybe we should look at this as just another one of Quark’s scams—albeit blown up to immense proportions because of the potential for … mind-boggling profit.”
Sisko understood, but was unconvinced. “I hope you’re right. A simple explanation is always the best.”
“Unless it’s the wrong one, of course,” Bashir added with a charming, self-deprecating smile. Then the door to the Security Office slid open and he stepped through.
Instead of following the doctor, Sisko wheeled about suddenly, aware of eyes upon him. He looked down the corridor to the right, toward the entrance of the Temple where the large, solid, unmistakable form of Prylar Obanak stood in the doorway, arms folded within bright saffron robes, watching.
Both men nodded to each other in silent acknowledgment.
Then Sisko turned and entered Odo’s office.
He instantly wished he hadn’t.
A wall of sound assaulted his still-ringing ears. Odo and Quark were heatedly arguing in the front office. Satr and Leen and Vash were shouting at each other and at anyone who was close to their holding cells. And a particularly irritating high-pitched howl that Sisko had never heard before seemed to be coming from all directions at once.
To save what was left of his hearing, Sisko issued an immediate command prerogative.
“BE QUIET! EVERYONE!”
In the sudden silence, the fluctuating siren-like howl seemed even louder.
“Is there something wrong with a wall communicator?” Sisko struggled not to sound as cross as he felt.
“That’s Base,” Odo said gruffly. “Apparently he’s claustrophobic.”
Sisko lost his battle with his nerves. “Tell him if he doesn’t stop that infernal squealing, I’ll have him hauled off to an escape module. And then he’ll know what claustrophobia really feels like.”
Odo almost smiled as he headed for the holding cells off to one side of his office area.
“All right,” Sisko said brusquely to Quark, “where’s the Orb, and where’s the map?”
Quark led Sisko and Bashir to the other side of the constable’s office, where a small doorway led to a secure storage room. The outer wall of the storage room was lined with stasis safes, and one of the safes was open.
But Sisko’s attention was on the storage room’s center scanning table. On it was a spindle-cut chunk of what appeared to be randomly faceted red glass, and a small amber cylinder.
“That doesn’t look like an Orb,” he said, referring to the red glass-like object. All the Orbs of the Prophets Sisko had seen resembled shimmering hourglass shapes of solid light. They were so breathtakingly compelling, so disorienting, that ages ago Bajoran monks had fashioned jewelled arks to shield and hold them so that they could be carried among the faithful.
“Word has it, it’s only supposed to glow when it’s close to the next Orb,” Quark explained.
Sisko picked up the faceted artifact to examine it more closely. “The next Orb?”
“Actually, there’re supposed to be three,” Quark said. “You use one to find the next one, then use those two to find the third.”
Sisko touched the edge of the artifact, felt nothing, sensed no trace of the Prophets. “I see.” He put the artifact down with a sigh. “And how much were you going to make by allowing this travesty of the Bajoran religion to take place?”
“Captain Sisko,” Quark said emphatically, “I swear I had no idea the Orb was real. I thought I was going to be selling a map. This thing!” He picked up the amber cylinder from the screening table and held it out to Sisko. “That’s all. I make my living from the Bajorans. Do you really think I’d risk my livelihood by insulting them?”
Sisko took the cylinder from Quark, turned it over in his fingers, still skeptical.
So, apparently, was Bashir. “Vash told Dax and me that an Orb could fetch the kind of money that can buy and sell planets.”
Quark’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “Really?” Then he recovered. “But I wasn’t selling an Orb! Just the map! A treasure map! I must sell a half-dozen of them every year!” He faltered, then quickly added, “Not for Orbs, of course. But for the lost planet of Atlantis, missing ships, T’Kon portals, Qui’Tu and Vorta Vor. Classic stuff. Nothing more.”
Bashir seemed to be convinced. “I believe him, sir. Especially since the penalties for dealing in Orbs cannot be plea-bargained.”
“Exactly,” Quark said with a shiver. “Why risk getting involved with a criminal-justice system that has such a rigid view of wrong and right when they’re so many other ways to … uh, that doesn’t sound right either, does it?”
“Quit while you’re ahead, Quark.” Sisko held up the amber map cylinder. “Tell me about this.”
Quark shrugged. “I never saw it till Dal Nortron brought it to the bar the day he arrived. And I told that whole story to Odo just like you told me to.”
“That’s right,” Odo said, making his appearance in the storage room just as Sisko noticed thankfully that Base’s squealing had finally stopped. “According to Quark, the Andorian contacted him to arrange an auction for the map.”
“Where did Nortron say he got it?” Sisko asked.
“He didn’t tell,” Quark answered. “And I didn’t ask. There are some traditions in trade, you know.”
“What’s it a map of, Quark? Or did traditions prevent you from asking about that, too?”
“Captain, really. I had to write the promotional copy, didn’t I?”
“And?” Sisko prompted.
Quark sighed dramatically. “According to the Jalbador legend, the three Red Orbs were scattered so they could never be brought together.”
“Why not?” Sisko asked.
“It’s a legend,” Quark said testily. “Why three wishes? Why a magic greeworm? Someone told a bedtime story once and it got taken way too seriously, if you ask me.”
Sisko waved a hand, realizing it was probably unrealistic to demand much more depth from Quark’s explanation. “Continue.”
“So—whoever hid them made a map of where they were hidden. End of mystery.”
“Well, that makes no sense,” Bashir complained. “If the Orbs aren’t supposed to ever be found, why make maps? Why not just launch them into the sun?”
Quark rolled his eyes. “Bajorans didn’t have space travel back then, all right? Now, do you want to hear this story or not?”
“It gets better,” Odo pointed out.
“Thank you,” Quark said. “So, the point is, the map Dal Nortron obtained—from whatever source—apparently reveals the world on which the second Red Orb is hidden.”
“A world’s a large place to hide something so small,” Sisko said.
“Exactly, Captain. Which means, you need the first Orb to find the second. They react to each other, like a … a location beacon or something. And the thing is, I didn’t know Vash had the first Orb.”
Sisko handed the map cylinder to Odo. “Constable, is there any way we can see what’s on this?”
Odo studied the transparent amber rod. “Looks like a standard Cardassian memory rod….” He walked over to a wall display, pressed a control and a rod holder slid out.
“Quark,” Sisko warned the Ferengi barkeep, “no games now. I’ll accept that you’re too smart to risk alienating the entire Bajoran population. But I need an honest answer.” Sisko tried not to react to Quark’s sudden look of panic at his use of the word ‘honest.’ “Who else—smuggler or collector or buyer—is on this station who might have been responsible for Dal Nortron’s murder?”
Only Quark could look contrite, worried, and embarrassed all at the same time. “Captain, I don’t know. The Andorian sisters. Base, of course. Vash. Those are the only ones my inform—I mean, they’re the only ones I’ve seen.”
“Here it is,” the constable said from his position by the display screen.
Sisko left Quark, who likely had nothing more to offer, and walked over to join Odo and Bashir.
The amber cylinder did contain a map, but not of an entire planet. Instead, it outlined a city layout, of streets and dwelling blocks.
And nothing was labeled.
“That’s not going to do anyone any good,” Sisko said.
Odo studied the schematics on the display screen. “Maybe the legend was wrong. Instead of showing a world, the map shows a place on a world.”
“But, Odo,” Bashir said, “there are millions of worlds in the galaxy.”
“Maybe there’s another map that goes with this one,” Odo suggested.
Sisko tried a different approach. “How old is that cylinder?”
Odo tapped a few controls, read a line of Cardassian script. “According to the manufacturer’s code, five years.”
“So this is a copy,” Bashir concluded.
“Of a copy of a copy of a copy,” Sisko added. “And if this truly dates back to ten thousand years ago, when the first Orbs started to appear, then the first version of the map would probably have been carved into rock or—” He stopped and then smiled broadly. “No. It can’t be hidden on any one of millions of worlds.” He turned to the Ferengi and exclaimed, “Quark! You’re right!”
“I am?”
“You said it yourself. Ten millennia ago, Bajorans didn’t have space travel. So the Orbs had to have been hidden on Bajor itself.”
This time it was Bashir who seemed unconvinced. “But if the hiding-place is Bajor, then why all the interest in a map that supposedly shows some world on which the orbs can be found?”
Sisko wasn’t certain about that, himself, but he didn’t think it was important. “The old Bajoran ideograms can be difficult to translate. They have so many meanings that change according to context. It could be as simple as the phrase ‘the world,’ meaning the known world of Bajor, having been translated as ‘a world,’ a few thousand years ago.”
Sisko shook his head to ward off any other questions that could sidetrack them again. “In any case, the mystery that should concern us right now is who killed Dal Nortron.”
“Hey, Dad.”
Sisko turned, automatically smiling at the sound of his son’s voice.
Jake and Jadzia stepped cautiously into the storage room of Odo’s security office, neither of them comfortable with the sharply slanting deck.
“Jake-O, Old Man—who’s minding the store?”
“Worf,” Jadzia said with a playful smile. “We’re running another diagnostic on the computer and I had to get away from those screens for a few minutes.”
Under current conditions, Sisko could accept Jadzia’s presence. But not Jake’s.
“You know you shouldn’t be here,” he told his son. “The whole station’s on gravity alert and I want you back at our quarters to look after Kasidy.”
Jake looked at him as if he were hearing a deliberately bad joke. “Like I’m supposed to look after the captain of an interstellar freighter. Sure, that’s just the sort of job for a helpless female.”
Sisko smiled but made his request again. “You know what I mean. I want my family out of harm’s way.”
Jake grinned. “Really? Family? Does Kasidy know about this?”
“Don’t start,” Sisko warned. “Now get moving, and don’t use the turbolifts.”
Jake hesitated, looked at Jadzia, and Jadzia coughed.
Something was obviously going on between them. “All right, you two,” Sisko said. “I know a conspiracy when I see one.”
“Benjamin,” Jadzia said, “just before the computer was compromised, when you had just beamed out to the Defiant, Jake and I were having a … talk.”
“You were in Ops?” Sisko frowned at his son.
Jadzia answered before Jake could. “He’s been helping out with the computer restarts, copying files, shutting down subsystems.”
Sisko relaxed, reminded of what he sometimes forgot these days, of all the time Jake used to spend with O’Brien. He gave his son the benefit of the doubt. “I take it this ‘talk’ was important?”
Jadzia exchanged glances with Jake. “Well, the budding novelist here figured out on his own that someone was trying to sell an Orb, and that the Orb was real. He had a few other interesting conclusions, too, so I thought maybe you could use his input while you’re trying to put all this together.”
Sisko sighed. “Okay. But let’s do that tonight, Jake. Right now, things are still too much up in the air.” He could see the disappointment in his son’s eyes, understood how the boy felt, but for now, the station had to come first.
Jake nodded without protest. He wasn’t the only one who was disappointed, though.
“Don’t give me that look, Old Man.”
“A good commander makes full use of all his assets.”
“I see. The conspiracy is turning into a mutiny.” Not for the first time, Sisko observed that Jadzia and Jake were alike in that they both knew exactly how far they could push him, and when they reached that point without success, they backed off without recrimination.
Almost without recrimination.
Jadzia leaned closer and whispered into Sisko’s ear, “I’d watch out, Benjamin. Someday Jake’s going to write a book about you and you do want to come off as one of the good guys, don’t you?”
“Tonight,” Sisko repeated firmly.
Jake said his good-byes to Odo, the doctor, and Quark and then, just before stepping out of the storage room, he glanced up at the display screen with a bright smile. “Hey, you got the interface going!”
Everyone looked at him in surprise, including his father.
“What interface?” Sisko asked.
“With the Cardassian holosuite.” Jake pointed to the display screen. “Isn’t what that is? It sure looks like the layout of the village Nog and I saw.”
“What village?” Odo asked sharply.
“The one on the Bajoran moon.”
Just for a moment, Sisko felt Deep Space 9 wheel crazily around him. And the effect had nothing to do with the canted slant of the deck or with failing gravity.
Without any logic or hard data, he suddenly was certain that the last piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.
And the truly maddening thing was, it had been there all along.