“When I…when Dax…communed with the thoughtscape,” the lieutenant said, “it wanted to keep that connection…it cherishedthat connection.” Vaughn nodded, understanding the terrible loneliness of the Inamuri, and how desperately it craved companionship.
“What about the fragment of the clouds aboard the ship?” Vaughn wanted to know.
“It’s gone,” Dax said. “As best we can tell, it withdrew into another dimension and…rejoined…the rest of the clouds.” She paused, then asked, “What about the Prentara? How did they die?”
“I’m not sure,” Vaughn said. “But my experiences on the planet…I still don’t know if the Inamuri was trying to communicate its sense of loss to me, or if somehow the feelings of loss in my own life caused the experiences. Either way, I think that same sort of thing must have happened for every Prentara, every day. And living with that sense of loss, being faced with it all the time…I can understand how that could have driven them to their own destruction.”
Dax stood quietly for a moment, no doubt contemplating the enormity of it all. Finally, she said, “I sent your message to Starfleet Command.” Vaughn had earlier asked the lieutenant to contact Starfleet, detail what had transpired here, and request that they immediately send a scientific team in order to find a means of communicating directly with the Inamuri.
“Did you tell them the promise I made?” Vaughn asked.
“I did,” Dax said. “I also contacted the Vahni Vahltupali and explained to them as best I could what happened here. They’re going to try to make contact with the thoughtscape.”
“Good,” Vaughn said. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You did a good job up here. You took risks, but they paid off. Your actions in attempting to contact the Inamuri not only saved it, but saved the away team and the Vahni.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “It was a challenge, but…I like command.”
“I knew you would,” Vaughn said. “When we return from the Gamma Quadrant, I intend to recommend you for the Pike Medal of Valor.”
Dax smiled. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Now, unless there’s anything else, Lieutenant, I think I’d like to get some sleep.”
“Certainly, sir,” Dax said. She crossed the room to speak with the doctor for a moment, then left the medical bay, presumably headed back to the bridge.
Vaughn adjusted his position on the bed, trying to make himself more comfortable. His body still ached from everything he had been through. That ache is nothing,he thought, compared with what the Inamuri has been feeling for centuries.He did not regret the promise he had made to the strange being, despite that he had taken it upon himself to speak for the Federation. And he vowed to himself to make sure that Starfleet kept his word.
We’ll be back,Vaughn had promised. And we won’t let you be alone.
Vaughn sat in a chair in his cramped quarters, a padd in his hands. He read the last sentence that he had written— The joy of life is connection—and then erased it. It was not quite right. And he wanted to get it right.
A hundred years old,Vaughn thought, and I’m still learning.
And what he had learned now had come from those hundred years, from the immeasurable number of moments he had lived within them. What had happened to him within the thoughtscape had been both a curse and a gift. He remembered that he had somehow been conscious, all at once, in every moment of his life, and though he could no longer feel precisely what that had been like—and was thankful for that—he understood that he still carried the loneliness of that experience within himself, and that he probably always would. The curse had been sensing the extent to which he had been alone— without connection—in so many moments of his life. The gift had been in the understanding that had come with that, the realization that the moments when he had made a connection—to Ruriko, to his daughter, to his friends and coworkers, to the human race itself—had redeemed the aloneness. Each moment, he now saw, came with a choice, and too often he had not chosen to connect.
Vaughn looked at the padd again, then dropped it into his lap. Dr. Bashir had released him this morning from the medical bay, but had suggested that he not work a full shift today. Vaughn still felt tired, but the fatigue was an emotional fatigue, not a physical one, and he knew that he would simply have to bully his way through it. He would follow the doctor’s advice and work a half-shift today, but he would resume his full schedule tomorrow.
Defiant,Vaughn knew, had departed from the world of the thoughtscape, and now continued on its journey through the Gamma Quadrant. He had felt uncomfortable leaving the Inamuri, and a couple of the crew had actually volunteered to stay behind. Saganhad now been repaired, and the volunteers had suggested remaining in orbit about the thoughtscape until the science team arrived from Starfleet. Vaughn had been impressed by the offers, but there would have been little point in being here until a direct and safe method of communication could be devised, and Defiantsimply did not have the resources to be able to do that.
Vaughn picked up the padd again and started to reread what he had written, but his mind quickly wandered. He was anxious to see Prynn. He had not had any contact with his daughter since he had walked away from her on the planet’s surface, headed for the pulse. Actually,Vaughn thought, that might not be true.He remembered his feeling that the energy surrounding the planet had somehow connected everything on it. He had never sensed a direct connection with her, although he had felt some sort of a link with her through her dreams. If she was willing, he would talk with her about that, and about whatever experiences she might have had during their ordeal.
Ultimately, though, Vaughn wanted to express to Prynn his newfound understanding of how he had failed her. He hoped, now more than ever, that they could work toward a reconciliation. They would need to delve into what had happened in their lives and in their relationship, and into how and why they had become separated. It would probably not be easy, he knew, but they would have to search for answers together. For him, their circumstances had changed, and he hoped that they could be changed for her too. But in the two days he had spent in the medical bay after regaining consciousness, Prynn had not visited or contacted him once, and so he had decided not to force matters with her. Perhaps after they returned to Deep Space 9, he could—
The door chime sounded. “Come,” he said. Across the room, the door slid open to reveal his daughter.
“Prynn,” Vaughn said, stunned to see her. He stood from the chair, dropping the padd onto it. She stepped into the room, and Vaughn felt suddenly awkward, and even lost. He thought, Connect,but he could not find the right words to begin.
“Dad,” Prynn said, and he realized that she had not called him that in years. He saw tears in her eyes, and he started toward her. She raced forward too, and they threw their arms about each other, hugging tightly. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said.
Tears pooled in Vaughn’s own eyes. “Oh, Prynn, Prynn,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He meant it in a way he never had before, although he knew that she would not know that. He felt his daughter’s body shaking as she wept. He cried with her, and they held each other like that for a long time.
When they parted, he looked into her eyes in a way he had not been able to for so long. He reached up to the side of her face and brushed away a tear. “Your eye,” he said, remembering that the last time he had seen her, the white had been injured and discolored.
“Dr. Bashir,” she began, but did not finish the thought. “I couldn’t see you in the medical bay because…this…” She made a motion that seemed to include the two of them, their tears, the intensity and importance of this moment, and he understood that she had wanted this reunion to be private.