“Let me check,”Selzner said. A moment later, Selzner read off the schedule. The runabout would be returning through the wormhole in less than thirty minutes.

Kira smiled.

As she headed back into her bedroom to don her uniform—her duty uniform—she told the ensign what she intended to do, although not why.

Kira notified ops, checked her equipment a second time, then bent and pulled open the access plate. One end of the plate swung upward, revealing the control panel beneath. Kira keyed in the activation sequence, then grabbed the handle there and twisted it ninety degrees left. Her weight quickly vanished as the local gravitational mat detuned, causing a momentary flutter in her stomach. At once, the pad she stood on began to rise. She flipped the access plate closed, stood back up, and waited.

Slowly but steadily, the launch bay slipped away. Kira peered over at the bow of Euphrates,watching it until disappeared from sight. The pad stopped, and she felt a jolt as it locked into place, level with the station’s outer hull. She looked forward and saw the arc of the habitat ring sweeping away before her. The Promenade and ops rose to her left, and above, Gryphonsat moored to the station at the top of a docking pylon.

Kira turned to her right and gazed out past the docking ring. Her magnetic boots made heavy, metallic thuds against the runabout pad as she moved, the sounds traveling through her environmental suit. Unlike a few weeks ago, the space around DS9 contained no free-floating vessels; the two small ships that had delivered the Alonis and Trill delegations sat along the docking ring, as did Ambassador zh’Thane’s ship, and the shuttle that had brought Shakaar and his staff had already departed for the return trip to Bajor.

From her vantage outside the station, Kira noticed that the stars appeared brighter and sharper than when viewed from within DS9. She studied the stars, picking out constellations and orienting herself so that she faced the location of the wormhole directly. After that, she did not have to wait long. Within minutes, the Celestial Temple spiraled into existence, vibrant blue light topping a brilliant white background, with traces of purple moving inside. A sensation of warmth flooded over Kira, and a connection seemed to form, reaching from her small, insignificant body out to the majestic whirlpool of light swirling before her—and reaching back in the opposite direction as well. Kira felt unconditional love and acceptance, for the Prophets and from Them. Her vision blurred, tears pooling in her eyes, as the threshold of heaven began its normal collapse. In a second, the magnificent, churning light had compressed to a point; a flash, and then it had gone completely.

That quickly, Kira had gotten what she had come for. Still, she stood like that, motionless and looking out into space, for a long time. Finally, she went back inside the station.

57

Dax drifted—floated, swam, pushed—knowing that Ezri remained in danger. But they had chosen—as one—this course of action, and Dax would do everything possible to see that they survived this experience—as one. They had a mission, though, and that truth came first right now.

Dax pushed through—

Not the pools this time. Not the Caves of Mak’ala.

Dax pushed through a sea of clouds. A vast sea, reaching not just from pole to pole, but from world to world, and from star to star. Except that there were no worlds, and there were no stars. And yet the sea filled the universe—

And beyond.

The sense of that came to Dax somehow, and Daxknew. Knew that communication had come, from somewhere, from something. Dax sent out tendrils of thought, seeking to find the link, to enhance it. But only silence returned.

No, not onlysilence.

Something like a vibration hummed through the universe, electrified the setting. It pealed like a sound almost beyond hearing, glowed like a color almost beyond seeing. Something was there. Something wasevery where.

Dax attempted to communicate, calling to whatever lived out there. Called and waited, but received no response. Tried again and again, in all the ways Dax knew. Still nothing came back.

Time passed without meaning. Seconds might have been seconds, but they might also have been lifetimes, or any interval in between. Or perhaps time did not pass at all.

Dax struggled to exchange thoughts with the inhabitants of…what?Of another universe, Dax understood. But the tenuous connection seemed as though it might not have been an actual connection, seemed as though it might have been nothing more than a figment. Dax rested, and waited, listening to the near-silence, but haunted by the voices that faintly disrupted the quiet.

Voices?

Yes, Dax realized.Voices. Dax listened. Strained to listen, and found not only voices, but the beings behind them. The sounds became ideas, and Dax tried to discern perceptions and thoughts. At last, they came, and when they did, they surprised.

Elias Vaughn lay on the ground, arms at his sides, eyes closed. He could have been asleep or unconscious or dead. Dax understood that the beings had perceived the commander like this, doubtless down on the planet’s surface, obviously sometime within the last couple of days.

Dax strived to delve past the image of Vaughn, to contact the beings that had seen him. But communication continued to prove impossible. For Dax, access came for ideas and echoes, but not for a direct link to the minds behind them. Dax could vaguely perceive the beings, but could not apparently be perceived by them.

And so Dax searched the ideas, seeking to understand the intentions of the beings. None were revealed. Dax stumbled mentally, weakening, finding it difficult to maintain the drive to penetrate this alien society. But Dax battled on, turning to the echoes—

Memories, Dax suddenly realized.The echoes are memories.

Dax dived down, pushing into the echoes, watching, listening, perceiving. A wall rose up, infinite and impenetrable, but on this side of the wall, Daxsaw: this had all begun with the invaders…with the saviors…with the Prentara.

The Prentara had once populated the world around which the sea of clouds now circled. They had discovered the other realm, and had been astonished by it. Sights and sounds, scents and tastes, sensations and emotions, all had followed with the Prentara, carried along by technology, and all had been magnified. An avalanche of emotive and perceptual experience spread across a universe in which none of this had previously been known. A battle to push outward from the strange realm ensued, and the Prentara fought for their lives.

Just as Ezri fought for hers right now, Dax realized.

The symbiont swooped down into the echoes, hunting for memories and collecting them up. Somewhere, images of Prynn and Shar down on the planet appeared. Representations of Vaughn also arose, although they seemed confused—Vaughn at an ancient launch facility, on a battlefield, on a ship with dead Bajorans and Cardassians. There were the Prentara too, wired in to their machines, wired in to the other universe.

And then Dax pulled back. Drifted upward, floating, swimming, pushing. Again, it was time to find Ezri.

Lieutenant Bowers waited patiently for her to begin, as did Julian. Ezri lay propped up on the diagnostic bed, a glass of water raised to her lips. She sipped, finding the act of drinking both refreshing and strangely foreign, as though she had never done it before now—a consequence, she knew, of Dax’s exposure to the other universe.