Vaughn stood back up, leaving the explosives and the beacon there. Then he strode back toward the vortex, thinking once more about Michael Collins, the astronaut who had circled the moon alone. He also thought about the tendril from the clouds that had struck down Chaffee.Vaughn wondered if the Inamuri had been trying to communicate with them all along. He did not know for sure, but he understood that all of this was true, that in some rudimentary way, he and Dax, and maybe even Prynn and ch’Thane, had been in contact with the Inamuri through the energy that now covered this planet and permeated its atmosphere. Dax had touched the fragment on Defiant,and Vaughn had experienced the matter that been reorganized for him here, and he had also walked through the mist around the vortex.
After disarming the devices, he made his way back outside, past the beam and over the pile of debris. Outside once more, he strode directly over to the edge of the vortex. Vaughn checked the tricorder again, and saw that the interdimensional devices would detonate in two minutes. He looked up and watched as many of the devices faded out of sight, slipping into subspace or some other dimension.
If Vaughn had started away from here as soon as he had finished deploying all of the devices, he might have been able to escape the effects of the explosions. But after having come to understand the monstrous loneliness of the Inamuri, he had found himself unwilling to consign the creature to a lifetime of such an existence. As he had been reminded so vividly in the last day, Vaughn had known his own moments of loss and abandonment; he could not imagine a life in which such moments occurred unendingly, with not the slightest reprieve.
From his contact with the Inamuri, however tenuous, Vaughn had gained an understanding of what would happen once the interface was thrown wide: the planet would be transformed, and then the Inamuri would emerge into this universe. Once here, it could contact other beings, putting an end to its isolated reality.
Prynn and ch’Thane would be put at risk, he knew, but with the interface expanded, there would be no pulse, and Defiantand the Vahni would be safe. And with the Inamuri in this universe, there would never be another pulse. Vaughn’s own life, he thought, was a small cost for all of that.
He checked the chronometer again. Thirty seconds. He tossed the tricorder aside, then peered down into the churning gray depths of the vortex.
Vaughn spread his arms wide, breathed in deeply, and then dived into the twilight maelstrom.
63
Kira looked up when the door signal sounded. Admiral Akaar waited outside. “Come in,” she said, and the office doors parted to allow him entry.
Kira remained seated and looked up at the admiral, his enormous size still noteworthy even after all the weeks that he had been on the station. “Good evening, Colonel,” he said.
“Good evening, Admiral,” she said. “I imagine the summit has been adjourned for the day.”
“No,” he said. “We are taking a break at the moment, but we will meet for a few more hours later tonight.” He paused, and then added, “And of course, we will be here for at least several more weeks.”
Kira could not tell, but she thought Akaar might be attempting to bait her with this information. He clearly must have perceived the coolness between them—he had been the source of it—and he would have known that his continued presence on the station did not particularly please her. He can’t even use the wordhospitality without me suspecting his motives.Right now, though, she decided not to allow him to bother her.
“Well, you’ve got important work to do,” she said. “What can I do for you this evening, Admiral?”
“Nothing,” Akaar said. “I came here to inform you of the break in our session.” At first, Kira thought that he must have been joking—why would she need to know about that?—but then he went on. “During the interim, First Minister Shakaar will be addressing the people of Bajor.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Kira said. Shakaar had mentioned the address to her at the reception last night, and she had ensured that he had been provided access to a dedicated comm channel today. “He wanted to announce the summit and its purpose to all of Bajor.”
“The first minister will be on the Bajoran communications network five minutes from now,” Akaar told her. “I suggest that you watch him.” As had been the case since the admiral had first arrived on the station, what he claimed to be a suggestion seemed to carry the weight of an order. In this case, it also sounded rather ominous.
“All right, I will,” Kira said. She considered asking Akaar why he wanted her to watch Shakaar’s address, measuring her curiosity against the difficulty of extracting even basic information from him. Before she had even decided, though, the admiral bowed his head and started to leave.
Kira watched him go. She waited a moment after the doors had closed behind him, and then said, “Kira to ops.”
“Ops, Selzner here.”
“Ensign, First Minister Shakaar will be addressing the Bajoran people on the comnet in a couple of minutes,” Kira said. “I’d like you to patch it into the station’s comm system.”
“Yes, Colonel,”Selzner said. “I’ll tie us in right now.”
“Thank you. Kira out.” She stood up and walked over to the replicator. “Tarkalean tea,” she ordered. “One-half measure of kava.”She preferred her tea not nearly as sweet as she liked her raktajino.The replicator hummed, and a cup of the hot beverage materialized on the pad. She picked it up and walked over to a companel set into the bulkhead. She activated it with a touch, and saw the elliptical symbol of Bajor hovering in the center of the screen. She backed up and sat down on a padded seat along the wall, then sipped at her tea and waited. Shortly, the companel blinked, and the image of Shakaar appeared on the display. He wore a formal, dark brown Bajoran jacket over a white shirt. He was seated, with his forearms at right angles to his body and resting on the table in front of him. A padd sat between his arms. Kira recognized the wardroom behind him.
“Good day to all of Bajor,”he began. “For years now, since the first days after the end of the Occupation, many of us have discussed the possibility of our people joining the United Federation of Planets. Opinion has long been divided on the matter, and likely always will be, but in recent years, a large majority of Bajorans have come to favor aligning with the member worlds of the Federation, and becoming a part of a larger community. As we embark…”
How far he’s come,Kira thought, her attention wandering from the speech. Shakaar had never lacked for confidence or charm, but he had never cared much for politics, even after being elected first minister. Only his love for their people, and his sense of responsibility to them, had caused him to seek his office, and then to sustain it. For a long time, though, Shakaar had practiced his public service in a homespun sort of way, and although he had not entirely lost that simplicity and lack of pretension, Kira had seen a sophistication grow in him—particularly in the last few months, as he had been dealing with the Federation.
“…three years ago, the Federation approved Bajor’s petition for membership, but at the counsel of the Emissary of the Prophets…”
Kira sipped at her tea again, thinking back to her days in the resistance. Shakaar had always been such a strong and effective leader, never wavering from his purpose to free their people. As a girl, Kira had been awestruck by the man, and as a young woman, absolutely dedicated to his command. Only later, as an adult, when she and Shakaar had become romantically involved, had she truly learned how sensitive and solitary he actually was, and how much of a price he had paid—and continued to pay—by choosing to lead their people.