ODO STOOD AT the door of his office in Security, gazing out at the empty Promenade. The station was on its night cycle, so the lighting was subdued, and the only indication of activity was coming from Quark’s across the way.
It was peaceful, Odo thought, and he liked Deep Space 9 this way. The station was, in a very real sense, his adopted home. And he knew from the time display on his desk that in less than a week it would be gone, destroyed by the red wormhole.
Unless he took action in the next thirty minutes. But what action?
His brief peace vanished suddenly as a small cloaked figure stepped out from a turbolift, looked both ways, then quickly ran for Security.
Odo felt a momentary twinge of panic. Right now, he knew, the Odo of this time was in Kira’s quarters but would soon receive an urgent call from his second-in-command, delivering the preliminary findings on the cause of Dal Nortron’s death. Odo remembered that only minutes after that, he had come up to check on his ‘prisoner,’ Quark.
The Ferengi barkeep, for now under protective custody, was in a holding cell behind him. But before morning came, he would be under legitimate arrest for Nortron’s murder. Odo’s specialists had just not been able to identify the Pah-wraith energy Dukat had used on the Andorian for what it actually was. So Quark had been left as the only likely suspect in the murder.
Odo knew it would be simple enough to make a similar call to his other self this evening, to rouse his other self out of Kira’s bed and tell the whole story of the Red Orbs, one of which, even now, was hidden in Quark’s, awaiting its discovery by Sisko in just a few days.
But just where would that leave Vic, Odo asked himself, and all the others stranded in the wormhole pocket?
For their sakes, at least until he had had more time to consider all the possibilities, he did not want to make that call and set in motion an alternate timeline. And for the same reason, right now, he didn’t want to be caught in Security by whoever was running toward it. Since the other Odo had not been in the office at this time, history might change if he were found here now.
With nowhere to run without drawing attention to himself, Odo stepped back against the textured security wall and spread himself over it, careful to duplicate every feature and still leave openings through which the security scan lights could continue to shine. Only the most observant eye would notice that the texture on one wall was a centimeter thicker than that on the others.
The small cloaked figure raced up the steps to Security doors, pressed his face against a transparent section, hands cupped to either side.
Then the figure whispered a single word: “Odo?”
Odo was puzzled. Whoever this was seemed to be in urgent need to find him. Yet the changeling had no memory of anyone having sought him out at this time. As he recalled it, Dal Nortron’s murder investigation had been the only business of concern that he had undertaken that final week.
“Odo,” the figure said more loudly, barely muffled through the doors. “It’s me!”
With that, the figure pulled back his hood for just a moment.
But the moment was long enough.
Odo poured from the wall and re-formed into his humanoid shape, swiftly opening the doors and hauling Quark inside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the changeling said harshly. He began dragging Quark toward the holding cells. “You’re supposed to be under protective custody.”
But Quark struggled and slapped both hands against Odo. “You moron! That was a month ago! I’m me!” He pointed ahead through the door leading to the cells. “Not him!”
And Odo stopped abruptly, one hand still gripping Quark’s arm, as six meters away another Quark slept in his holding cell.
“Why did they send you?” Odo said in disgust, letting go of Quark’s arm.
The Ferengi backed off at once, indignantly straightening his cloak. “Garak’s at another version of the station, six years back, trying to get Sisko and Kira and everyone from the Defiant back to this time.”
Odo stared at Quark, as if having to translate from the original Ferengi traders’ tongue himself, and not rely on a universal translator. Quite clearly, other things had been going on while he had been swinging back and forth through time.
“Are you able to explain any of this?” Odo demanded, not really expecting a useful answer from the Ferengi.
But just then, from across the holding room, the other Quark suddenly cried out, “Moogie!” and sat up in his Cardassian sleeping ledge so suddenly he slammed his head against a utility shelf.
Odo started as he heard the dull thump echo in the bulkheads. From his experiences when he had been imprisoned in solid form, he knew that had to have hurt.
The Quark of the past sat up on the side of his ledge, rubbing his head, cursing colorfully to himself.
The current Quark tugged on Odo’s arm. “Unless you want to ask yourself what’s new, let’s go!”
Quickly comprehending their situation, Odo grabbed Quark’s arm and pushed the Ferengi out of Security onto the Promenade. The changeling understood that his own past self must already be on his way up here. He remembered walking in on Quark as the Ferengi stood in front of the replicator slot.
At the same moment as the doors closed behind him and Quark, Odo heard the hum of a turbolift arriving. Though he could not recall having seen anyone suspicious that night as he returned to his office, the changeling took no chances on untimely discovery. Slightly changing his form to something more feminine, he slipped an arm around Quark and strolled onto the quieter half of the Promenade without looking back.
As soon as he and Quark had passed by Garak’s shop, closed for the evening, and were beyond the Shipping Office, out of sight of Security, Odo felt Quark twist out of his grip. The Ferengi stared at him in equal parts fascination and horror as Odo returned his body to its usual male form.
“Odo, sometimes you frighten me.”
“I assure you,” Odo said, “the feeling is mutual. Now, how much time has passed since I left the Boreth?”
“An hour, maybe. Garak was all set to beam over and help you out with Dukat—” Quark suddenly looked up and down the Promenade. “Where is Dukat, by the way?”
Odo scanned the Promenade as well. The last thing he needed was for one of his security officers to come across him talking with Quark here, while he was also talking with Quark in his office. He pointed over toward the barber shop. “This way. And I don’t know what happened to Dukat. He beamed over with me, tried to put me back in an illusion of Pah-wraith hell, then murdered Dal Nortron.”
“Ah ha!” Quark exclaimed. “I told you so!” The indignant Ferengi jabbed a finger into Odo’s chest for emphasis.
Reflexively, Odo lessened his molecular cohesion in reaction to violent contact and Quark’s finger sank deep within the changeling’s torso.
“Ewww, I keep forgetting,” the Ferengi said, cringing at the sucking sound that accompanied the reemergence of his finger.
Odo pulled the barkeep into the entrance of the barber shop and punched in his security override code on the doorplate. “Keep it down, Quark.”
“Anyway. Told you so,” Quark said sulkily as he needlessly shook his finger to cleanse it. “Arresting me for murder …”
The door to the barber shop slipped open, and Odo shoved Quark inside. As a general rule, there was little in the station’s barber shop and beauty salon that was worth stealing, so it had one of the simplest security setups on the Promenade. Most important, Odo knew it had no interior sensors that would record his presence.
“Then what happened?” Quark demanded. “After you found out that I was innocent—just like I told you.”
“Look,” Odo said, “I don’t have much time in this … timeframe, and I’m guessing you don’t, either.”
The Ferengi scowled. “Oh, right. Sisko’s radio message talked about that, all of us jumping back and forth in time whenever one of those waves goes over the ship. I think O’Brien’s just about figured out what the captain was talking about.”
“What do you mean, ‘figured out’?”
“Figured out whether or not we’ll be yanked back to the Boreth when the last wave hits or left where we are in the past.” Confusion twisted Quark’s face. “I mean, in the present. Or … or … oh, wherever it is we are when it—”
“Quark, just tell me what O’Brien thinks will happen.”
“Well, supposedly, we’ll be okay if no one changes the timeline for the places we’re in. The Chief mentioned something about more ‘temporal inertia’ or something … I don’t know. But the important thing, Odo, is if we change anything and an alternate timeline splits off, we’re in trouble. O’Brien says we won’t stay with the new timeline.”
Odo frowned. “We’ll go back to the ship?”
“Not exactly. I mean, we do, but we get there just in time to … to evaporate into nothingness. No, it’s even worse than that. The Chief says if we somehow cause that new timeline, there won’t even be any more nothingness. Talk about the story of my life.”
Odo checked out the silent, darkened shop. Past the hair dryers, scale buffers, and cosmetic replicators, the narrow windows offered a restricted view of the still-deserted Promenade. “Does the Chief have a plan?”
“He thinks he does.” Quark sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, my idiot brother is helping him with it, so—”
“Quark, what is the plan?”
“Okay, see if this makes sense to you.” The Ferengi reached under his cloak and brought out a padd. As Quark rattled off his explanation, Odo listened carefully, trying to find the pattern in the events.
“When the Boreth fell into one of the wormholes, just before they merged, it somehow established a link with that moment just when the wormhole opened on the station. In my bar, I might add. And from what the Chief got out of the captain’s message, he says it looks like the Defiant’s also got a timelink to DS9, back around the time when the Cardassians withdrew from Bajor.”
“Terrell must have been conducting experiments with her Red Orb back then,” Odo said.
“Whatever,” Quark said, hurrying on with his account. “Anyway, Sisko and Kira have to deal with Weyoun, so O’Brien sent Garak to the timeframe they’re in to help them out.”
“Are you saying O’Brien can beam us back to another time?”
“Not us, Quark said in a tone suggesting the changeling was a Pakled. “Anyone on the Boreth. The Chief … triangular … ized the hyper-something-or-other radio whatsit from Sisko. And that let O’Brien lock onto … another DS9. The one that’s linked to the Defiant.”
Inwardly, Odo marveled at O’Brien’s ingenuity. Outwardly, in the interests of time, he confined himself to a simple question of Quark: “So what happens next?”
Quark rechecked his padd, ran a black-nailed finger over the text until—“Here it is. Garak gets word to Sisko and Kira. Sisko and Kira transmit messages to the Defiant.” Quark looked up. “We can only communicate in one direction, y’see.”
“Believe me, I get the point, Quark. Go on.”
“So everyone from the Defiant beams to this station, the one that the Boreth’s linked to, and—”
Odo interrupted the Ferengi. “What about Sisko, Kira, and Garak?”
“And Weyoun,” Quark said, picking up where he left off.
“Well? What happens to them in the past?”
“O’Brien’s still working on that. I believe that if all else fails, they turn themselves into the Department of Temporal Investigations and … sit out the next six years. Which, I don’t mind telling you, is a real waste of an opportunity in the interplanetary futures market. I mean—”
“That’s enough, Quark. Now, specifically, what are you and I supposed to do?”
“Well, the first thing is, you and I don’t change a thing. We have to stay linked to this timeframe.”
“Up to what point?”
“Uh, O’Brien’s still working on that, too.”
“And then what?”
Quark looked down at his padd again. “Second thing … second thing … oh, here—make sure Dukat doesn’t change anything, either.”
Odo turned away from the Ferengi, looked around the shop for a time readout, concerned that he didn’t have much more time here. “That might be difficult. Dukat doesn’t seem to be affected by the equalization waves. I can’t be sure what he’s been doing here while I’ve been bouncing back and forth.”
Quark looked at him anxiously. “Is anything different from what you remember?”
“Not so far.”
“Then … maybe … maybe he’s gone off to Cardassia or something.”
“Two Gul Dukats,” Odo said darkly. “I’m sure that won’t affect the timeline.”
“I’m just the messenger,” Quark said, self-pity etched on his broad face. “None of this would have happened if—”
A flash of red light blinded Odo. By now, the changeling knew what it was and what had happened.
When his vision returned a few moments later, he was still standing in the barber shop, which now appeared to have been abandoned during business hours. All of its lights were on, Bajoran music played softly in the background, and the strong, acrid aroma of overbrewed raktajino cut sharply through the shop’s varied chemical scents and perfumes.
Odo stepped out of the barber shop onto the Promenade, looked up, and saw the blazing cauldron of red wormhole energy beyond the viewports. Once again, he had jumped forward to a timeframe after the station’s destruction. The changeling hesitated, tempted to go to the other side of the Promenade to see if Quark’s had been completely restored by this time, but just as quickly thought better of the idea. It wouldn’t do to encounter Vic before the moment the holographic singer met this timeframe’s Odo for the first time.
Instead, the changeling sought out the nearest turbolift and selected his next destination: Ops. As the turbolift rose to the deck of Ops, Odo discovered that it, too, was abandoned, though every piece of equipment appeared to be in perfect working order.
Odo stepped out of the turbolift and headed for Jadzia’s science station. Its sensor display was frozen at the moment the first gravitational anomalies were recorded in Quark’s. Seated before the console, Odo studied the fixed display for a moment, then decided that the sensor’s readings described DS9 as the station had existed the moment before it had begun to deform. But why that should be, Odo had no answer. During his earlier conversation with Vic, which would actually take place later, the changeling recalled concluding that there was an underlying reality to this destroyed version—this illusion of destruction—of the station. But who or what had created that illusion, Odo did not know.
It took a few minutes more of silent contemplation before the changeling abruptly remembered that in twenty minutes or so, he’d swing back through time again and reappear at this spot before the station’s destruction. The realization spurred him on to setting his next priority: finding an out-of-the-way place to wait, so that when he reappeared in the past, he would do so without witnesses who could then ask bothersome, perhaps potentially history-changing questions.
Returning to the turbolift, the changeling reviewed what Quark had told him, and he felt inordinately pleased that his own purely emotional reluctance to change the timeline had been backed up by O’Brien’s careful consideration.
He halted before entering the turbolift again, remembering something else Quark had mentioned: Sisko and Kira had used radio to communicate with the Defiant, and it was those signals O’Brien had intercepted.
Odo turned back into Ops, approached the equipment replicator, and entered his security codes to order a Bajoran militia ground-to-ground radio communicator. The replicator obediently produced and delivered a device the size of a padd, though about twice as thick. Included with the device was an equipment belt and holster. Odo retrieved the radio and its accessories and carried them back to a library terminal, where he called up the setting for a Starfleet emergency-channel radio frequency. He adjusted the communicator accordingly.
Two minutes later, the changeling was safely ensconced in a dead-end Jefferies tube above the main habitat ring, waiting for the next wave to strike. Only then did Odo begin his transmittal to tell his story.
He wondered who might be listening—not just in space but in time.
On the bridge of the Defiant, Jake turned to Jadzia, and though they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, Worf beat them to it.
“That’s Odo!”
At once, the Klingon was out of his command chair, heading for Jadzia’s communication console. Since receiving Sisko’s first message, the Trill had made refinements to the Defiant’s antenna simulators, and the message Jake heard was the clearest one yet, with far less static and interference than the first.
“… right now, I am in … as it exists after being swallowed by the red … I have been here once … later time. I have also been in the station prior to its … first visit, Dukat killed Dal Nortron, but … not seen him since. In my last visit to … Quark, who told me Sisko and … on the station around the time of the Day of Withdrawal. From what they’ve said and from … O’Brien has concluded that as long as we do not change the timeline, we … on the station when the final equalization waves destroy what pockets of space-time remain in the wormhole pocket …. Garak back to Sisko and Kira’s time, … wants everyone from … Boreth to beam over to the station of this time at once.
“This is Odo. Right now, I am …”
The speakers went dead. A moment later, the Defiant shuddered as another equalization wave passed over it.
Jake saw Jadzia and Worf exchange a glance.
“I think we got the whole message,” Jadzia said.
“Does that mean everyone else is all right?” Jake asked her. “I mean, everyone on the Boreth?”
“Sounds like it,” the Trill said. She made further adjustments to her console. “And it sounds as if O’Brien’s making more headway than I am.”
“Does his hypothesis sound reasonable?” Worf asked.
“That we not change the timeline?” Jadzia said. “I’m not sure. I mean, if we do absolutely nothing to change the past, then the future will unfold as we saw it, and everything will come back into this same endless loop. So, assuming that we can all get back to the station before it was destroyed, we’re going to have to do something.”
To Jake, it was as if a small photon torpedo had burst in front of him. The answer was that clear to him. At least, it seemed to be. “This is the same thing that Nog and Admiral Picard faced!” he said excitedly.
Jake’s sudden assurance wilted in the blast of intense scrutiny that Worf and Jadzia now directed at him.
“Uh, you know,” Jake faltered. “Time traveling to the past to make a change that won’t show up until after the point at which the journey to the past took place. So the past won’t be changed, only the future.”
Jadzia and Worf turned their attention from Jake to each other.
“He’s right, Worf,” Jadzia said. “If we can do something that results in history unfolding just as it did up to the point at which we traveled into the future, and then see to it that we return to that timeline even an instant later, we won’t have changed anything in the past. So if Chief O’Brien is right—and he usually is—we’ll stay in 2375, and not in the wormhole.”
“But the station will still be destroyed?” Worf asked.
Jadzia nodded reluctantly. “We can’t press the reset button on that one, I’m afraid. If we change the past, we die.”
Worf looked as dejected as his mate but for a different reason. “But if we do not change the past, then the universe dies.”
“Which is why,” Jadzia concluded, “we’ll have to choose the moment we change something with … great precision.”
“You know …” Jake suddenly said aloud without thinking, then stopped as quickly as he had begun.
“Continue,” Worf said, the suggestion issued Klingon-fashion, as an order.
But Jake only shook his head, feeling foolish, struck by the ridiculousness of what he had been about to say. “It’s nothing. Really.”
Jadzia gave him an encouraging look. “Jake, this isn’t the time to hold back. The worst that can happen is that we’ll listen to you, then go on to another idea.”
Jake sighed and steeled himself for ridicule. The Trill scientist was right. How could a minute’s worth of embarrassment compare to the end of the universe? “Okay. Before … before any of this happened, the Orbs and …” He saw Worf’s brow begin to furrow, and he picked up the pace. “I was working on a new novel. The Ferengi Connection?”
“Time is of the essence,” Jadzia advised calmly, even as Worf grunted his impatience.
“The point is, for the heist to work and Quark and Morn—uh, for Higgs and Fermion, the bad guys—to get away, they had to set up a diversion. So what they did was, they rigged a runabout to take off into the wormhole, so that Odo—uh, Eno—would chase after them, but they actually hid under the runabout pad and didn’t go anywhere until after Eno had gone into the wormhole, too.”
“And your point would be?” Worf asked.
“We do the same thing. Get back to the station just before it’s destroyed, then hide.” Jake held up his hand to cut off Worf’s almost immediate rejection of his idea. “Not on the station, Commander Worf. On a ship. And we don’t come out until after the station’s been destroyed. That way, the timeline we’re connected to now doesn’t change, but we’ll be in a position to stop the future we saw by warning Starfleet about the Ascendancy.”
Jadzia and Worf looked at each other once more, and again Jake sensed the strange current of unspoken communication between the two.
“Check our logs to see if you can find a suitable ship in range of DS9 on the day it was destroyed,” Worf said.
Jadzia nodded, then glanced up at Jake. “A fallback plan,” she explained.
Not being privy to the secret mode of communication Jadzia and Worf appeared to share, Jake didn’t understand. “Why a fallback?”
“If it is in our best interests not to change the past,” Worf said, “then we must assume that it will be Dukat’s and Weyoun’s intention to do the opposite.”
“Which means,” Jadzia said as she completed Worf’s assessment, “we have to be prepared for making drastic changes of our own. Assuming we can actually figure out how to get ourselves into the Boreth’s timeframe.”
Jake felt Worf’s and Jadzia’s eyes upon him, measuring, wondering if he truly understood now.
He did. He met their gazes unflinchingly. If the only way to save the universe was to change the timeline, then change the timeline they must. Even if the result would be their own deaths.
Jadzia had already faced that decision when she had chosen to remain aboard the Defiant.
Jake hoped he could face his own decision as bravely.