DISCLAIMER:  The characters used here are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc.  No
copyright infringement is intended in their use.

Jigsaw


by Gail M. Eppers


     It started the day Jadzia died.   After an incident on DS9, a space station that had once
orbited Bajor and had then shifted to guard the newly revealed Temple of the Prophets, which the
Starfleet people called 'a wormhole', the Temple had disappeared.  All of the orbs that Bajor had
in its possession had gone dark.  The orbs had been a way to consult the Prophets; their glowing
central crystal focusing mental energy to allow communication to take place.  While the average
Bajoran never saw an orb except through holographic newsreels, or behind force fields, hidden
away in their carved Arks, let alone speak with the Prophets through one, the recent changes
wreaked havoc among every Bajoran community.  Everywhere, people beseeched the Prophets to
reappear.  They pleaded with their political and religious leaders to heal the rift and reconcile
with the Prophets, who seemed too angered to reply to the lowly prayers of an average Bajoran.
     First Minister Shakaar didn't know what Kai Winn was telling them.  As the Bajoran
closest to the Prophets, the Kai must have been at a loss.  He would have liked to have seen that. 
Instead, he felt the need for solitude.  He wasn't running away from his problems.  As a former
Resistance cell leader, he just wasn't the type.  Shakaar walked away from the Council of
Ministers, away from the city, leaving the public uproar behind him.  Wearing the long gray robe
of his office, embroidered with barely visible gray-on-gray symbols and ancient Bajoran
hieroglyphics that had long since lost their meanings, and a simple pair of sandals, he carried
nothing.
     As he had done many times in the past, Shakaar walked without thinking, letting, he
hoped, the Prophets guide his steps.  It wasn't as though he had sensed their presence before, and
was now conscious of their absence at a subliminal level.  He felt no different.  No emptiness or
void existed within him because of what had happened.  As he left the city behind him, he could
almost imagine that the Prophets were still there.  Of course, in his mind, he could see the Orb of
Prophecy go dark even as he had stared into it.  There was silence, as he was cut off from his orb
experience in mid-vision.  But he'd seen enough, he hoped, to begin his journey.  So he began
walking.
     He walked long after his feet and knees began to ache, but he did not stumble or waver. 
Through Bajoran flatlands, and over rock encrusted hills he walked.  Passing through a small
village, Shakaar paid no heed to the astonished looks of the poor villagers as they paused in their
farming, left to wonder why the First Minister had come their way and where he was going.  He
hesitated only once, as he reached the edge of a large forest.  It was The Preserve.  No Bajoran
had entered it since it had been terraformed a little more than a decade ago.  There should not
have been any sign of humanoid presence, yet there in front of him, barely perceptible as if
overgrown from disuse, lay a definite footpath.  Standing there for a moment, the tips of his
sandalled toes on the very edge of the footpath, he looked down as if to command his feet to
begin moving again.  His right foot slid forward slowly.  When his foot sat entirely on the path,
he raised his eyes again and began walking as if he had never stopped.  
     Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of relief from the hot sun provided by
the thick canopy above.  The long grasses that reached across the path from both sides, and the
intrusive roots that pushed through from beneath, might have tripped anyone else.  Shakaar
stepped over each one flawlessly, although his gaze remained straight ahead.  He began to hear
the sounds of the Preserve, the huna birds whistling their mournful song, the click of the claws of
lecopi as they skittered up tree trunks, and the rustling of the leaves as the wind sighed through
them.  The early evening sun filtered down through the canopy in a cascade like golden yellow
raindrops that dappled the ground and the very air around him.  Ahead, he spotted a canaga deer
grazing.  It raised its head as he neared, picking up a scent unfamiliar to it.  The deer perked up
its ears, shredded leaves and grass falling from its mouth, then bounded away.  He walked on.
     After darkness fell, Shakaar lay down right on the overgrown path and slept.  He slept
only a few hours, waking before sunlight even returned, rose and began walking again.  The life
in the Preserve continued undisturbed around him.  Finally, his pace slowed.  Not because he had
neared his destination, but because a new sound had reached his ears.  It was faint, but it gave
him a chill.  His head turned as he tried to triangulate on the sound.  It was screaming.  They
were screaming.  There were many, some stopping for breath as others continued the effort.  At
the same time, he realized the screams were only in his head.  It was not the Prophets themselves
screaming, which may or may not be fortunate, but it was the Prophets allowing him to hear
them.  His direction changed, departing now from the footpath that also may have been imagined. 

     The sun was high in the sky when he found it.  He heard the rushing water first before
passing through a group of trees into the clearing.  A large pool of crystal clear water was being
fed by a waterfall that rose fifteen meters high.  White water rushed back up the waterfall and
down again, over and over, creating ripples upon ripples.  He could still hear the screams, even
over the crashing water.  Shakaar stood for a long time, just inside the clearing, listening to the
cacophony of sounds that refused to drown out the screams humming in his brain.  Somewhere in
that brain, he was aware of the blisters that had formed on the bottom of his feet, and the
scratches along his legs, arms and neck from the thick brush he had pushed through, too thick for
even his robe to protect him, but they were insignificant now.  
     He stepped closer to the pond, knelt and drank deeply, tossing a splattering of water over
his head and face, and down his back.  Following the edge of the pond, Shakaar, a few errant
water drops dripping from his hair and chin, walked closer to the side of the waterfall.  Rocks
embedded in the hard dirt led enticingly into the darkness behind the wall of water.  To his feet,
they seemed no different than the footpath he had originally followed.  Despite the moisture, they
were not slick or slippery.  By the third rock, he was enveloped in the misty spray at the bottom
of the waterfall.  In a few more steps, he disappeared from view.


     It was amazing how much one's life could change in a few short minutes.  Aboard the
Defiant, Sisko had led a mission into Cardassian territory to take out orbital weapon platforms
in a strategic system, allowing the deployment of ground troops.  He'd been in his quarters, still
reeling from his sudden realization that something had gone terribly wrong back on DS9, when
Kira relayed Bashir's news of Jadzia's injuries.  Arriving at the station, they hurried to the
infirmary, only to see Bashir emerge from his examination room solemnly.  "There was nothing I
could do for Jadzia."  The phrase echoed in his head.  Oh, Bashir had been able to save the
symbiont.  Jadzia's memories would live on in another Trill eventually, but that was little comfort
to Ben Sisko.  
     Knowing that Dukat was out there, with or without the pagh wraith that had possessed
him, made Sisko long to remain in Ops, to engineer yet another strike against the enemy in
exchange for this raw wound, but Bashir, seeing his captain's emotional and physical exhaustion,
had pulled regulations and ordered Sisko to his quarters to sleep.  After saying goodbye to Jadzia
privately, Sisko moped into his room, ordered the lights to three percent, then lay on his bed in
the darkness.  In the morning, he would take a leave of absence, take Jake, and go home.  He felt
completely useless here.  He'd seen the Orb of Contemplation, the only one currently housed on
the station in its Bajoran temple, knew he had failed Jadzia, and the Prophets as well.  It took
more than an hour before he drifted into sleep, but he slept only a few hours, none of them
deeply.
     Sisko wanted to wake up.  An uncomfortable feeling had come over him.  He reached for
wakefulness like a drowning man reached toward the sparkling surface of the water; a surface
that was always deceptively out of reach.  Tossing in his sleep, he became aware of a sticky,
warm, moistness encroaching on him.  At first, it was something his fingers touched and
retracted reflexively from, then there was no avoiding it.  It seeped between his back and the
mattress, then through his pajamas making him squirm.  But sleep would not let go.  His chest
heaved with effort as he tried again to open his eyes and bring his mind out of the netherworld. 
There was no dream that held him there, he thought.  I know where I am.  I'm sleeping and I want
to wake up now.
     The liquid flowed over his legs.  He could feel the edges of it rising along his thighs and
closing over them.  Panic soared through him as he tried to make his body move.  His head
turned back and forth on a pillow that sloshed.  Wake up! he shouted to himself.  Wake up before
you drown!
     The liquid covered his body now, a gentle pressure on his chest that didn't belong there at
all.  The edges of the liquid, like a mouth, clung around his face, inching upward.  His breaths
were coming in short quick bursts like a scuba diver preparing to dive without air tanks.  He
squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as his face slowly became submerged, sinking into a
thick, watery world where he was blind and deaf.  The only sensation remaining was of his own
heart beating violently against his rib cage.  
     Very suddenly, he woke and leaped from the bed in one quick motion, as if his heart
pulled him vertical with a strong beat born of desperation.  The liquid spilled from the bed to the
floor, and sprayed off of his rushing form.  "Lights," he said with what little breath he had left, as
he hurriedly wiped the moisture from his eyelids so he could open them.
     Terror struck him as the lights came up and he saw that the liquid was red.  A distinctive
shade of red.  Blood filled his bed and made his pajamas cling to his body, radiating a metallic
odor that made his stomach turn.  He knew it couldn't be his blood.  Holding his hands palms up
in front of him, he stared at the sticky residue that dripped and drizzled, leaving dark colored
lines in some morbid kind of map, turning his hands into something like a Frankensteinian
jigsaw puzzle.  Whose blood was it?  Why was it here?  What the hell is going on?   It was
difficult to even think in coherent sentences, difficult not to scream in horror and confusion.
     Sisko sat up in bed, the panic and terror still there.  He still felt moisture surrounding him,
but not in such volume.  "Lights," he said for what was to him the second time in as many
minutes.  Intense relief swept over him as he saw his familiar bed, the covering rumpled, but
bloodless.  Feeling himself with his hands, he noticed the cold sweat on his skin.  He crossed his
legs under the covers and ran his hands over his hairless head, slowing his rapidly beating heart
with a conscious effort, then threw the covers aside and got out of bed.  Crossing to the basin and
turning the water on ice cold, he splashed his face, then let it run as he looked at himself in the
mirror.  Rivulets of cold water ran down his cheeks, meeting at his chin before rejoining the
exiting water on its journey down the drain.  With a shaking hand, he reached to turn off the
water, then stopped and watched it flow from the faucet.  He gripped the front edge of the basin
and took a deep breath, trying to get his respiration under control, watching the water fall.


     Kira rolled from her back to her stomach, hugging the extra pillow with her right arm. 
Something was happening.  She was engulfed in smoke....no, not smoke.  It didn't burn her throat
or eyes.  It was fog.  A thick, moist fog.  Visibility was low as it swirled around her, growing
randomly thicker and thinner wherever she looked.  "Hello?"  she asked the possibly empty
space.  She took a few steps, but couldn't even tell if the ground was solid, though it was uneven,
making her second and third steps a stumble.  Looking down, she could see neither her feet, nor
the ground on which they stood.  
     Hearing a footstep that wasn't hers, she raised her head, looking sharply all around for the
source of the sound.  Another footstep, and another.  "Who are you?"
     She saw the vague shape of a humanoid coming toward her from her left.  Turning to face
it, she reached for a phaser that wasn't there.  After a brief but intense panic, she relaxed, seeing
Shakaar come toward her from the fog.  "Shakaar, where are we?"
     He stopped still two meters away, just stood there facing her.
     "Shakaar?"  Instinctively, she started to back away, but then he opened his mouth.  He
didn't speak, but simply opened his mouth and left it that way.
     Screaming.  Kira heard it, faintly.  It grew slightly louder, just so one didn't have to strain
to hear it, but that was all.  As she listened, she realized that it wasn't just a scream.  It was
dozens, at least.  She tilted her head and looked away, concentrating on the sound.  She began to
differentiate, began to hear one screamer stop for breath and start again, then another, began to
hear distinctly different tones that indicated males, females, and children.  Then she looked up at
Shakaar again, questioningly.
     With his mouth still open, Shakaar took a step backwards.
     "No.  Wait!"  Kira moved forward, trying to close the distance between them, knowing
that it was a futile effort.  "Tell me what it means!"  But Shakaar moved backwards almost
without effort, the fog moving in front of him as if to stop Kira's advance, returning to the vague
humanoid shape before disappearing completely in the fog.  The screaming faded with him.
     Kira knew she was still in her bed before she even opened her eyes.  Shakaar needs me,
she thought.  She felt certain of it.
     Throwing the covers off the bed, she set about getting dressed quickly and packing a
small bag.  She opted for Bajoran civilian clothing, brown slacks with an off-white camisole and
jacket, leaving her combadge still attached to the abandoned uniform, then threw her bag straps
over her shoulders and left her quarters.
     Moments later, she chimed Sisko's quarters, intending not to ask permission, but simply
to tell him that she was going to Bajor.  When the door slid open, she began speaking, "Captain,
I'm going to need the use of a runa--",  but cut herself off when she saw Sisko.  
     He stood before her with a similar backpack slung over one shoulder, also dressed in
civilian clothing consisting of simple tan pants, a sleeveless white tunic, and a tan jacket.  "Any
idea where we're going, Major?"
     Still staring at him in disbelief, she replied, "Not specifically, sir.  No."  
     "Then we'd better get going." Sisko joined Kira in the corridor.


     On the Ganges, the two travellers stowed their packs and took positions at the helm.  "Do
we have a heading yet?"  Sisko asked as he ran through the pre-launch checks.
     "Bajor."  At Sisko's slightly irritated look, she concentrated a moment.  "The Hall of
Ministries.  We need to find Shakaar."
     Sisko keyed in the coordinates.  A glance at Kira revealed that she was on the verge of
smiling.  "Other than finding Shakaar, you have no idea what this is about, do you?"
     "Nope."  She seemed to be revelling in whatever it was she was feeling.
     "And that doesn't frighten you?"
     Kira looked at Sisko, wiping the near smile from her face when she saw the worry on his. 
"It's something important.  And the Prophets are guiding us."  The smile returned as she
continued to explain, "I thought they were gone, but they're not.  It has to be the Prophets at work
here, don't you see?"
     Sisko sent the code to open the bay doors.  "I admire your faith, Major.  You might enjoy
the Prophets manipulating you, but I don't.  I don't really mind being their Emissary, but it's
damned irritating being their puppet."  He guided the runabout into a gentle lift and they sailed
through the bay doors, accelerating slowly until they cleared the station.
     "If you resent it so much, why don't you turn around and go back to the station?"  She
hated it when Sisko, or anyone, for that matter, rejected the benevolence of the Prophets.  Like
any gods, they sometimes worked mysteriously, or appeared to do or allow evil, but Kira had
faith that all of it was for the best.  Since the wormhole closed, it had been difficult not to have
doubts, so this little adventure was actually a relief in that it told her that Bajor had not been
abandoned.
     "You and I both know why I can't do that."  Sisko's voice, tinted with anger, rumbled like
a distant thunder.  "At this point, I'm not sure I'd even want to."
     "Why not?"
     "Because it is something important.  I feel that, too.  But my faith in the Prophets doesn't
extend as far as yours."  He set the autopilot and swivelled his seat toward her.  "What if they
don't need an Emissary anymore?"
     The hesitation with which Kira answered his question spoke volumes.  The image of Kai
Opaka crossed her mind.  When Bajor no longer needed Opaka, at least in the opinion of the
Prophets, she was given a mission by the Prophets; a mission that stranded her on a planet in the
Gamma quadrant trying to form a peace between two warring factions on a world where even
death was only temporary.  Kira's heart still ached for Opaka, whom she had revered and loved as
a caring, supportive spiritual leader.  The new Kai, a woman named Winn, was anything but
spiritual.  Yet, as a Bajoran, Kira felt obligated to give the woman the respect of the office.  She
sometimes wondered why the Prophets would want such a politically manipulative Kai as Winn. 
But then, it was not for her to question the motives of the Prophets.  She had only to accept them. 
"Don't be ridiculous," she finally told Sisko.  "Of course they still need the Emissary.  Besides, if
they are trying to get rid of you, why am I here?  And what would Shakaar have to do with it?"
     "I don't know.  But Opaka didn't know where she was going either, and look what
happened to her." Kira was surprised to discover that Sisko was also thinking about the former
Kai.  "Our shuttle crash landed and she died, only to be brought back to life by the planet's
microbes that forced her to remain behind."  He turned back to give his instruments a glance. 
"Just because I'm the Emissary, doesn't mean nothing can happen to me."
     Nothing like this had crossed Kira's mind.  The fear and dread that emanated from Sisko
infected her.  He had a point.  The Prophets sometimes caused bad things to happen, like Jadzia's
recent death.  No one was really immune from their whims.  Her elation at the knowledge that the
Prophets were instigating this dissipated.  He was right.  That fact did not ensure the safety of
either of them.  And for Shakaar, it might already be too late.  "No," she told Sisko, directing his
mind away from himself.  "It's Shakaar.  He's the key.  We have to find him."
     Sisko gave himself a mental kick.  Here he was feeling sorry for himself, worried for his
own personal safety, and Kira's former lover could be in danger, injured, or even dead.  "I'm
sorry, Major.  We'll find him.  I promise."
     A few hours later Sisko landed the runabout at an airfield not far from the Hall of
Ministries.  The two retrieved their packs from storage and Sisko paused with his hand on the
keypad that would unlock the supply of phasers.  He felt Kira's hand on his shoulder and knew
what it meant:  they didn't need weapons for this.  Pushing the container back into the storage
space, he turned to her.  "How many days of rations did you bring?"
     "Two."
     He nodded; he'd also packed two days of rations.  After helping Kira settle the pack on
her back, he hefted his own into a comfortable position.  "After you, Major."
     It was midmorning in the bustling Bajoran city.  In their civilian clothes, they got only
passing glances from the locals on the brief walk to the Hall of Ministries.  The building loomed,
like many government buildings, large and imposing.  Shallow stone steps led up to the double
front doors which opened as they approached.  In the foyer, Sisko looked to Kira.  "His office is
this way, upstairs," she said, pointing to a hallway to the right but not moving in that direction,
"but I'm not sure there's any point in going there."
     The opening door must have sent a notification of some sort, for Kai Winn, in her bright
red robes, approached.  She smiled pleasantly, recognizing her guests.  "Welcome Captain. 
Major.  Why didn't you let me know that you were coming?"
     Sisko deferred to Kira, who bowed and kissed the Kai's hand out of habit before replying,
"Forgive the intrusion, Eminence.  We didn't know we were coming either."
     Winn tilted her head, not understanding but not inclined to press it, "What brings you to
Bajor, my child?"
     Ignoring the irritating diminutive, Kira asked, "I'm looking for Shakaar.  Do you know
where he is?"
     Winn hesitated.  "What business do you have with him?"
     "It's personal, but important."  Kira had been ready with that.  She had not wanted the Kai
to know how uncertain the situation actually was.
     Winn motioned for them to follow her and she led them regally into her private office. 
When the door closed, she turned to them.  "Shakaar has not been seen in over a day."
     Kira's alarm and worry were clearly visible.  Sisko inched closer to the major in support. 
"When was he last seen?"  he asked.
     Moving to her desk, Winn accessed some files.  "Actually, he hasn't been seen in about a
week, to be exact, but we have evidence of his whereabouts until early yesterday.  He's been
meditating intensely."
     "That would place his disappearance about the same time the wormhole closed,"  Sisko
realized.  "What was he doing?"
     "He was consulting the Orb of Prophecy at the time.  But, as you undoubtedly know, all
the orbs have gone dark."  Utter sadness passed through her features.  "Emissary, have you come
to help us?"
     Sisko exchanged a glance with Kira, understanding also that their uncertainty should be
kept from Winn.  "I'll do what I can, Eminence.  May we see the Orb?"
     "Yes, of course, Emissary."  Winn came around from behind the desk and led them out of
the office.  The three of them walked solemnly down the corridors with Winn leading the way. 
The Ark of the Orb, a square, intricately carved box, sat on a platform at the far side of the room. 
Winn went to it without hesitation and pushed the two sides of the box apart, opening the vertical
seam.  Inside, sat a crystal, darkened as if burnt.  Winn looked as if she wanted to cry.  
     Kira and Sisko also looked sadly at the open box.  They had hoped that seeing the orb
would tell them what to do next, but there was nothing.  "You have no idea where he may have
gone?"  Sisko asked Winn, his voice low and solemn.
     "None.  It wouldn't be like him to abandon his people at such a time.  Emissary,"  Winn
closed the box quietly, not wanting to see the reminder of recent events, then turned back to her
visitors,  "I'm afraid for his safety."
     Sisko smoothly swung his pack to the floor and bent down to access it.  He extracted a
tricorder and activated it.  "With your permission?"  Kai Winn nodded and Sisko proceeded to
scan the room, starting at the Ark of the Orb.  Kira looked on hopefully.  "There are two sets of
DNA traces on the Ark.  One is yours," he pointed with the tricorder at Winn.  "We can assume
the other is Shakaar's."
     "Can we follow it?"  Kira asked.
     "We can try."  He turned to Winn, "Thank you for your help, Eminence.  We'll let you
know as soon as we find him."
     "Thank you, Emissary.  I am honored that I could help in even a small way.  If you'll
excuse me, I need to make a public statement --"  Kai Winn glided toward the doorway as she
spoke.
     "Eminence --"  Sisko interrupted.
     "Yes, Emissary?"
     "I think you should keep our mission here between us.  Keep your statement general
where Shakaar is concerned."  Sisko and Kira waited for an argument.  After all, their presence,
and the search they were undertaking would be considered good news, which had been severely
lacking of late.  How could she resist giving her people a small bit of hope?
     "As you wish, Emissary.  Our meeting just now never occurred."  She left the room.
     Sisko, tricorder still in hand, now bent to pick up his pack and remount it on his back. 
"You didn't bring a tricorder?"
     Although she had no idea why, she had to admit, "No, I didn't."  
     Sisko didn't berate her thoughtlessness.  Things were as they were on this mission.  It was
fine to establish facts, but there was no wishing things were different or arguing about apparent
mistakes. One tricorder would be sufficient.  He turned his attention to the tricorder and began to
follow the DNA trace he had decided belonged to Shakaar.  Kira walked next to him, glancing
now and then at the readout.  The trace led directly out a rear doorway, and they came to a stop
at the bottom of the back steps.  It was more difficult to isolate the DNA trace here, where more
people had passed by in the day or so since Shakaar left.  Sisko let the tricorder work for a
moment, then moved slowly forward again.
     The two searchers kept walking, heads low with their eyes glued to the readout, and soon
left the city behind.  Although they walked for hours, time went quickly for them.  They didn't
check their chronometers or secretly complain about aching feet or knees.  A sense of urgency
propelled them forward.  Once they glanced up and saw a small farming village in the distance. 
As they approached, it was late afternoon and dozens of very tired Bajoran men and women were
scattered in the fields.  The Bajorans saw the coming visitors and exchanged looks among
themselves.  The nearest one came up to Kira as they passed through his catterpod field. 
"Forgive the intrusion, please."
     "But it's we who are intruding, sir,"  Kira replied.  "Can we help you with something?"
     The farmer, a husky man with sweat glistening on his bare arms and shoulders, leaned on
his hoeing tool and pointed with his head at Sisko, making his earring jingle lightly.  "You're
looking for someone."  It wasn't a question.
     Sisko, who until now had kept his eyes on the readout, looked up.  Not "something".  The
man knew why they were here.  "Yes, we are,"  Sisko confirmed, not revealing the identity of the
object of their search.
     A worried look came over the farmer's face.  "Is the First Minister in danger?  Has he
done something wrong?"
     Kira got the sense that Shakaar's mysterious passage through here had been the talk of the
village ever since.   Too much speculation often resulted in exaggerated rumors that usually
belonged in holonovels.  She wanted to calm the man, and thereby the rest of the village, but had
nothing definite to tell him.  At the same time, she knew that hesitation would give him the
wrong impression, and that nothing said after a period of silence would sound truthful.  "We
wish to join him on his retreat.  He is a friend of ours."  Cringing inside at the lame excuse she'd
just given, Kira silently wished for the man to accept it nonetheless.  A retreat was private.  The
idea of two friends trying to join a third on such a quest, and by tracking him like an animal, was
nothing but an admission of their own rudeness and disrespect.  On top of that, it had been over a
day since Shakaar had passed through.  If he really was on some kind of retreat, most likely he
would be returning soon anyway.  
     Suspicion passed over the farmer's face.  He glanced at his friends and family, waiting out
of earshot for a full report.  "I'm glad he has such devoted friends," the man said, understanding
the true nature of their search but saying nothing specifically.  "He went northeast,"  he added,
pointing.
     "Did he say anything to you?"  Sisko asked after confirming that the tricorder agreed with
the man's directions.
     "He didn't speak to anyone."
     "Thank you.  You've been very helpful,"  Sisko said with a smile, then he and Kira
nodded their goodbyes and moved on, leaving the farmer to be swarmed by the others and
interrogated.
     They soon left the village far behind and walked again for over an hour.  It was Kira who
first realized where they were going as she saw the line of trees in the distance.  She stopped
walking and stared at them.  "Captain. . ."
     "Major?"  He looked first at her, then at the trees.  She seemed profoundly affected by
them.  "What is it?"
     Kira's stomach churned.  "I'm hungry," she replied swiftly as she turned her back to the
trees, pulled off her pack and sat on the grass, opening it and hunting eagerly for her rations. 
Slowly, Sisko pulled off his own pack and sat across from her, facing the trees.  She was already
chewing on the dried meat by the time he had found his ration pack and canteen.  But she didn't
look like she was eating out of hunger.  Her eyes were distant and unfocused, her free hand
clutching her stomach almost as if she were ill.  
     Sisko took a small bite of his ration bar and chewed slowly, studying his companion. 
Then he turned to the tricorder and for the first time switched off the tracking and zoomed out to
a map of the hemisphere.  A blinking dot showed where they were, but it meant nothing to him. 
He zoomed in slightly, then a little more until the continent filled the screen and demarcations
became legible.  The forest ahead of them was large, ten kilometers across at its narrowest part. 
Across the center of the green patch, in letters barely large enough to read, it said "The Preserve". 
That held no meaning to him either.  He glanced up, but other than getting further down on the
dried meat, Kira remained the same.  He changed the settings again and looked up "Preserve" in
the Bajoran historical archives.
     Now it made sense.  His concern grew.  A decade ago, The Preserve had been the Gallitep
labor camp.  After the Occupation had ended, the government had found that no one was willing
to live there anyway, so they had terraformed a forest where they placed some remaining wildlife
so it could thrive.  They had named the forest "The Preserve".  They didn't need to tell people to
stay out.  There was no fence, and there were no trespassing signs.  Discreetly, Sisko looked up at
his first officer and imagined what was going through her mind.  She had been in the raiding
party that had liberated Gallitep.  What had she seen that day?  "Major?"  he asked softly, then a
little louder, "Major?"
     She pulled herself back from wherever she'd been.  "Sir?"
     Indicating the tricorder, Sisko revealed his fact-finding mission.  "Are you all right?"
     Kira took a deep breath and popped the last bite of her ration bar into her mouth.  "Yes,
sir.  Fine."  She rose and reached for her pack, swinging it over her shoulders with forced
enthusiasm.  "I was hungry."  Making an about face, she confronted the image in the distance. 
She didn't look back, but waited there until Sisko had gathered his things and come to her side. 
Why does it still terrify me? she asked herself.  It's a forest.  Just a forest.  
     "Maybe he went around it,"  Sisko suggested as he readjusted the tricorder to pick up
Shakaar's trail again.
     "Maybe," she agreed, although she knew it wasn't true.  Right, and maybe he fell into a
hole in the ground somewhere between here and there.  Maybe he beamed up to a passing ship. 
And maybe I'll be Kai someday, Kira thought.  She waved for Sisko to take the point, then
followed closely behind him.  
     Distance was deceiving.  It had seemed so close to Kira, yet they walked for nearly
another ninety minutes before reaching the treeline.  Sisko knelt to examine Shakaar's entry point
closely and realized that what he saw there didn't match what he'd just read in the archives. 
There should not have been a foot trail at all, and yet here, though overgrown somewhat, was
exactly that.  Shakaar's trail became spotty, but still consistent on the tricorder.  Conscious of the
coming dusk, Sisko was about to suggest that they camp there and tackle the forest in the
morning, but was surprised when Kira, mumbling an "excuse me" edged past him and dove
through the underbrush, apparently driven by determination, and possibly something else.  Sisko
was beginning to feel it, too:  a subtle, but driving force that urged him to keep moving.  After
peering up at the darkening sky, he straightened quickly and followed Kira before he lost sight of
her.


     "Computer, locate Captain Sisko."
     "Captain Sisko is not on the station."
     "Damn," Jake muttered to himself.  Why would his father leave without even saying
goodbye?  Something didn't feel right.  Even if his father was going on another secret mission, he
would have let Jake know, even given some clue as to when he would return.  But to just
disappear like this?   There had been no message left for him in the system, either.  Well, he was
a reporter, wasn't he?  Getting answers was his job.  "Computer, locate Major Kira Nerys."
     "Major Kira Nerys is not on the station."
     *Somebody* has to be on the damn station, Jake thought, while he blurted out, "Well,
who's in charge, then?"
     "Commander Worf is in temporary command of the station."
     Ah.  Progress.  Sort of.  Jake heaved a frustrated sigh.  Okay, so Worf was intimidating. 
Klingons couldn't avoid it.  That was just an emotional reaction to Worf's physical appearance
and meant nothing.  He was just a Starfleet officer.  With his father in Starfleet, Jake had been
dealing with officers most of his life.  If he kept thinking of Worf as just another officer, it should
go fine.  Determined, he headed for the turbolift and said, "Ops".
     His eyes met Worf's as soon as they rose above floor level at Ops.  Worf was at the
science station, Jake realized, just where Jadzia normally sat.  That made Jake even more
nervous.  Not only was he facing a Klingon, he was facing a grieving Klingon.  *Don't mention
Jadzia*, he told himself.  Stick to the subject.  Jake suppressed the urge to bite his lips as Worf's
face adopted an unhappy scowl at Jake's appearance.  As soon as he stepped off the lift, Jake
dove in.  "Commander Worf, do you know where my father went?"
     Worf tilted his head, as if considering whether to answer Jake or challenge him with some
barely pronounceable Klingon oath.  "Captain Sisko,"  Worf began finally, "and Major Kira left
for Bajor early this morning.  I was awakened by the computer as per Captain Sisko's orders and
told to report to Ops."
     Jake really had not expected such a helpful reply.  He could not control his grin as he
added, "Did he say when he would be back?"
     "No.  He did not."
     "I see."  Jake controlled his disappointment no better than his grin of success.  "Thanks,
Worf."  He turned toward the turbolift.
     "Mr. Sisko."  
     Sensing trouble, Jake turned back.
     "You've committed a breach of protocol by coming to Ops unannounced.  If I had not
been facing the lift, I would have drawn my phaser and fired on you."  He didn't sound angry,
although his booming voice held a sting all its own.
     "I'm sorry, sir, I --"
     "I realize you were concerned about your father's whereabouts.  Try not to let it happen
again."
     "Yes, sir!"  Jake wanted nothing more than to leave Ops and moved backwards towards
the lift.  "Sorry, sir!"  Inside, he was kicking himself.  Of course he should have called ahead and
told Worf he was coming.  What had he been thinking?  They were in a war, after all, and an
unannounced intrusion to the command center of the station was an egregious error.  Had his
worry knocked all the common sense out of him?
     "I will not include this intrusion in my report to the Captain, Mr. Sisko.  You are
dismissed."  Worf watched young Jake Sisko disappear from view and felt uneasy.  It had been
true, what he'd told the young man.  But even facing the lift, shouldn't he have pulled his phaser
out?  He probably would have holstered it before Jake would have seen anything, recognizing the
visitor immediately, but it occurred to Worf that the phaser should have been drawn.  He rested
one hand on it as he wondered why it had never left the holster.  Set on stun, it wouldn't have
done Jake, or any intruder, serious harm, but that wasn't the point.  Were his reflexes, or worse,
his judgement, failing?  He made a mental note, once Captain Sisko returned, to up the skill level
on his exercise routine in the holosuite.
     Jake, now given permission to more or less run away, whirled, throwing a "Thank you,
sir!" over his shoulder as he stepped onto the turbolift.  "Promenade."  As he sank below floor
level, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, which allowed his brain to process what he'd just heard. 
They'd gone to Bajor.  At least it was neutral ground.  He couldn't be in danger there, could he? 
He was the Emissary, after all.  Still, something kept stirring in Jake's stomach.  The lift
deposited him on the Promenade, and he didn't hesitate in heading directly to Quark's.
     Trying to appear casual, he took a seat at the bar and waited for Quark to approach him. 
"Hey, Jake,"  Quark said, rubbing a glass with a dingy bar rag.  
     Jake had wondered from time to time why Quark bothered with things like washing
glasses.  Perfectly clean ones could be replicated easily enough, and in actuality, replicated drinks
of course appeared in their glassware.  He supposed it made certain drinks special, or made
Quark feel busy taking care of the display of odd-shaped drinking receptacles behind the bar, but
Jake didn't really understand Quark's reasons.  At the moment, however, it wouldn't have
mattered if Quark had been polishing utensils or had pulled out an old-fashioned cash register to
do business.  "I need your help, Quark," Jake said quietly, keeping his head down and hoping no
one overheard him.
     Quark flipped the rag over his shoulder and hid the cleaned glass under the bar.  "What
can I do for you?"
     Shifting his eyes from side to side, Jake whispered, "I need to know if a Bajoran transport
is leaving soon."
     "There's always a Bajoran transport leaving soon," quipped Quark.  "I take it, you mean
one going back to Bajor."
     "That's right."
     Quark leaned over the bar discreetly. "May I ask why?"
     "I really wish you wouldn't."  Jake couldn't look the Ferengi in the eye.  Some instinct
warned him about giving away any information, as if he actually had any to give.  All he knew
was that his father had gone there, and he needed to find him.  Find them, if what Worf had said
about the Major was also true.  
     Humoring the boy, Quark also shifted his gaze from side to side.  "Docking port six.  But
you didn't hear it from me."  He then walked away, rolling his eyes as if to say, "Kids!"
     

     The fire crackled, sending up sparks and tiny spots of ash when Sisko prodded it with the
stick.  They had walked until darkness had fallen, even a little after, but finally agreed that setting
up camp was called for.  Not that there was much to set up.  The packs did not include sleeping
bags, or any kind of shelter like a tent.  Setting the packs on the ground for a time felt good, and
it wasn't hard to find enough dry wood and kindling to start a fire against the evening chill.  They
sat cross-legged on opposite sides of the fire, nibbling on another ration bar and sipping water. 
Staring at the fire, they both avoided conversation for a time.  Then Sisko, placing the cap on his
canteen and setting it aside, spoke up, "I don't know what I'm looking for, Major, but I need more
information or I'll go insane."  His gaze moved upward to indicate the trees and their current
surroundings.  "Maybe Gallitep has something to do with all this."  He reached for the tricorder
and adjusted the settings until he once again had a topical map of their location, then rose into a
stoop to hand it to Kira over the flames.  "If this were still Gallitep, where would we be?"
     Kira studied the readout, her eyes clouding over with memory.  He could see that the
subject made her uncomfortable.  In addition to whatever had happened when she helped liberate
the labor camp, there was the more recent development regarding the man she thought was Gul
Darhe'el who had come to DS9 for medical treatment.  It turned out he was merely a file clerk
named Aamin Marritza who had felt guilty enough about the matter to attempt to take the blame
on himself.  Kira had come to terms with the man, accepting him for the troubled soul he was,
only to see him murdered as he stood at her side on the promenade by a Bajoran who was not so
enlightened.  That incident had brought Kira back from the brink of outright bigotism regarding
Cardassians, and it served as a reminder to everyone that race did not define personality.  Sisko
saw Kira's eyes clear a bit as she looked up.  "We're still in the outer courtyard, heading west
toward the Bajoran quarters.  Past those would be the Cardassian quarters, with the Gul's
office in the middle of the compound.  West of that were the entrances to the mines."
     Sisko was about to comment, but Kira continued, her eyes glazing once again, "We broke
in just south of here.  About half of us were killed in the first minute.  I remember the sound of
the disrupter fire, although at the time I think I blocked it out.  That's what they told us to do, you
see.  Block out everything from your mind except your objective -- the Cardassians.  Ignore your
friends and what was happening to them.  Ignore the people you were rescuing.  Just move
forward and shoot Cardassians.  And that's what I did.  And when the shooting stopped and the
last few Cardassians were out of range, it was like waking up to a nightmare.  All the things I'd
been ignoring were suddenly crystal clear.  The silence, first.  Then the bodies, or what was left
of them.  Then the Bajorans came creeping out from the bunkers where they'd taken refuge.  Not
far from me, was a little boy about eight years old.  He couldn't walk, his legs were so thin.  I
reached for him, and he was smiling, reaching back.  'Thank you' he said.  And then he died." 
Kira stopped in her story and looked at Sisko, the clouds in her eyes becoming misty bubbles that
popped to her cheek, sliding down to accumulate on her jawline.  She wiped the mess of water
and clouds away with the back of her hand and came back to the present.  "I never found out that
boy's name.  He was technically free for all of five seconds, and he thanked me."  She cleared her
throat.  "How's that for information?"
     "I'll let you know when I finish the puzzle."  Sisko absent-mindedly poked the fire with
his stick again as he let the story Kira had just told sink into his mind like a wild animal in
quicksand.
     "Sir?"
     Sisko hugged his knees, keeping the stick somewhat maneuverable.  "Everything that's
happened since we left the station, possibly even before, is a piece to a puzzle.  We're gathering
pieces, Major.  But we're not ready to put them together yet."
     "A puzzle?"
     "Yes.  Ever heard of a jigsaw puzzle?  The pieces are all different shapes that interlock to
make a coherent, two-dimensional picture."  His brow furrowed.  "But that's not a perfect
analogy, either.  With a regular jigsaw puzzle, you can put together some of the pieces and get an
idea of what the picture is, but none of this is going together.  More like a holo-jig."  At Kira's
questioning look, he explained, "My father had a holo-jig.  Worked a lot like a jigsaw, but you
couldn't put the pieces together even if you tried.  Instead you arranged them on a flat grid.  You
had to get them all in the right order, with the right orientation, and then they would fly together
and complete the two-dimensional picture, which became a short three-dimensional holoplay.  I
spent a whole week on one once when I was fourteen."
     "Okay,"  Kira agreed, noting how difficult such a puzzle would be, "so we have an
analogy.  Is that another piece?"
     "Probably."  Setting the stick down near the fire, he stretched out into a supine position
and crossed his arms behind his head.  "I don't think we need to take watches here, Major, do
you?"
     The change of subject caught her off guard, but Kira had to agree.  After examining her
own feelings, she realized that there was no sense of danger.  Even more, despite their strange
situation, she felt completely safe.  She knew the Preserve housed all manner of animals,
herbivore and carnivore alike, yet no wild canines howled, or felines roared.  She listened,
amazed at the peace she was feeling, at the steady click of the ginza beetles, and the intermittent
low-throated call of the m'lara frog, and grew sleepy.  She curled up near the fire, not worrying
about that either, and slipped smoothly into blissful sleep.
     But her sleep didn't remain blissful.  She suddenly saw Bashir dragging Opaka's body
from the runabout's wreckage and pronouncing her dead.  Her heart twisted and her body
produced wracking sobs as Kira threw herself on the body of Opaka in despair.  Then Opaka sat
in front of her, listening calmly to her pleading for acceptance.  She even felt the former Kai's
hand on her ear as Opaka sensed her pagh.  Her deep rooted shame for the lifestyle she'd been
forced to lead brought more sobs that finally brought her back to the forest floor.  Self-conscious,
she wiped her eyes, then twisted her neck around to see if Sisko had heard her crying.  His back
was to her, and he didn't appear to have been disturbed.  She calmed herself, told herself not to
dream again, and tried to sleep.
     Across the fire, Sisko's quiet sleep was also interrupted.  He heard Bashir's quiet
proclamation under phaser fire that none of them could afford to die on that planet.  Not even
once.  And knowing even as he heard it, that Opaka already had.  He came to the awful
realization, that she would not be able to leave when their rescue team came.  Then time reversed
itself and they were all on the runabout having just come through the wormhole.  Opaka sat
calmly, directing their flight path as if on a whim, her faith in the Prophets masking any
confusion about her coming fate.  Then the runabout hit trouble, buffeting about in turbulence,
and crashed, landing him on the forest floor near a dying fire with a jerk.  His heart was
pounding, but slowed quickly to its normal rate.  With his eyes wide open, Sisko stared into the
darkness for awhile, refusing to answer the urge to check on Kira.  How many pieces did they
have, he wondered, and how many more were they to find?  


     A feeling of urgency made it very difficult to lay back in the shadows and watch the
airlock.  Jake still wasn't sure how he was going to get aboard, but he hoped something would
come to him.  He heard voices coming down the corridor, then saw about a dozen Bajorans,
some male, some female, coming around the curve, chatting as they walked.  He pushed himself
flat against the wall, one hand on the tricorder to prevent it from bumping against the wall and
giving away his presence.
     "What if the Eye of the Prophets doesn't come back?" asked one of the women.  "They
said the Orbs have gone dark.  We've been abandoned, I tell you."
     The man walking nearest her placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort.  "Now, Zarkin,
you must have faith.  The Prophets have tested our faith before --"
     "But they've never left before, Tylep," Zarkin interrupted.  "The First Minister has
disappeared.  You heard the news reports.  And now DS9 tells us the Emissary is gone, too."  She
shook her head sadly, "It's over.  No one can help us now."  
     Another Bajoran male doubled his pace and came up behind her just before the group
reached the airlock.  "That's why we're going home.  This is a time of crisis.  Bajorans need to be
on Bajor.  Things look bad, but what do you think the Prophets will think if we just give up all
hope?  What are we to do then?  We've come much too far for that."  The rest nodded and some
voiced agreement.  The first man opened the airlock and motioned for the rest to precede him
into the ship.
     The man called Tylep turned to follow the last of them, but just then Jake stepped
forward.  "Excuse me," he said.
     Tylep spun back, surprised by the voice.  "Do I know you?"  His eyes looked Jake up and
down.
     "Not by name,"  Jake replied.  He hesitated, trying to think of something to say that would
make the man allow him passage onto the transport.  So far, the direct approach had worked well
for him, and he was uncomfortable lying, so he continued, "I'm the Emissary's son."
     Tylep bowed low in sudden recognition.  "Forgive my suspicions!  How can I be of
service to the Emissary's family?"
     The kowtowing obviously made Jake uncomfortable, but he didn't feel he had the time to
convince the man to dispense with the formalities.  "I need passage to Bajor.  I'm sorry, I can't
pay you, but --"
     "Oh, anything you wish, son of the Emissary!"  Tylep replied, bowing again, and
motioning for Jake to board ahead of him.
     Feeling a little like the White Rabbit in Alice's Wonderland, Jake's sense of being late
eliminated any hesitation and he stepped into the airlock.  "Thank you, very much."
     Three hours and several hundred bows later, it seemed to Jake, the transport set down on
the airfield in Bajor's capital city, which Jake had specified as his destination, assuming his
father's starting point would have been there.   The hatch opened and the Bajorans, who were in
fact heading onward to a different airfield to rejoin their families in another Province, all wished
him well on his journey.  A woman, whom Jake remembered as the worried Zarkin, stepped up
to him.  She placed her hands out, palm outward, indicating his appearance.  "Wait.  You have no
supplies and you don't know how long you will be here.  Allow us to give you some food and
water for your journey, please."   
     Taking their cue, several of the Bajorans quickly gathered bread and meat from their
stores.  A woman took the scarf from her shoulders, shook it out politely, then spread it out and
placed the supplies in its center.  A man filled another container with water and placed it also on
the scarf, then expertly folded and tied it into a bag shape which Jake could carry by the knot.  He
accepted it with another "Thank you," nodded to all of them, and left the transport.
     For a moment, he stood on the airfield and looked around.  In one direction, several
hundred meters in the distance, he could see the large buildings of the major city that the airfield
supported, and in the foreground, the Federation runabout his father and the major had used to
bring them to Bajor.  In another direction, there seemed to be endless fields, heavy with the early
morning dew.  Opening the tricorder, he turned slowly in place as it collected readings. 
Checking the position of the sun in the sky, and again feeling that internal push to move, he
turned toward the city and walked.  Before he'd gone a few steps, he doubled his pace, then
doubled it again, the tricorder now flying behind him and one hand grasping his bundle tightly.


     At the first dim sign of light, Sisko and Kira independently gave up their attempts to force
dozing into sleep and began putting themselves together.  Sisko threw handfuls of loose dirt over
the smoldering fire pit.  "Did you sleep well, Major?" he asked, sounding as if he already knew
the answer.
     Kira, rolling to her feet, froze for a split second, then tried to hide her reaction as she
answered, "As a matter of fact, no.  But I don't feel like it." She bounced to her feet.
     "I know what you mean."  He stretched his arms to the sky, then to each side.  "I feel very
rested.  No sore necks, no backaches?"  
     The major shook her head, considering, then bent to feel the ground with the flat of her
hand.  "Cold and hard.  So why do I feel like I could run a marathon?"  Her head whirled around
to Sisko at a sudden thought, "Maybe this isn't real.  Some kind of holographic simulation . . . ?"
     "No.  A hologram would produce all the normal physiological responses.  A cold, hard
bed would still be a cold, hard bed."  He placed one hand on a nearby tree trunk and traced one of
the grooves in the bark.  A tiny insect crawled away rapidly from the invading finger.  Fear.  Fear
gave you energy, made adrenaline pump.  But, despite the urgency that continued to gnaw at his
stomach, he felt peaceful, not fearful.  "It's something else."  Brushing dirt from his pants in a
dusty cloud and the speculation away with it, Sisko said, "Well, Gretel, time to find the candy
house."
     "Excuse me?"  Kira hefted her pack and looked at her Captain quizzically.
     I should know better than to use Terran references around a non-Terran by now, Sisko
thought.  They just aren't the same when you have to explain them.  "There's a children's story
about two kids named Hansel and Gretel who get lost in the forest and find a house made out of
candy."
     "Sounds like a children's story, all right," Kira commented.  "What happened?  They eat
the house and bounce their way out of the forest?"
     The image produced a huge grin on Sisko's face.  "No.  But I think I'd like that ending
better."  They began walking again and Sisko began telling the story from the beginning.  
     It never occurred to either of them to consult the tricorder.  Sometimes Kira led the way;
other times Sisko moved ahead for awhile. When Sisko told the part about how the children used
bread crumbs to mark their trail and how birds had eaten them, Kira interrupted solemnly, "No
one ate Shakaar's breadcrumbs.  This way," she added certainly as she changed direction through
the trees.  The closer they got, the faster they walked, as if the rubber band holding them to
Shakaar were retracting.
     Some time later, Sisko concluded his story with the traditional ending he'd always used
when telling the same story to his son.  "And they lived happily ever after." 
     "Happily ever after," Kira muttered and stopped walking.  "Give me the tricorder."
     Pulling the strap over his head, Sisko did as she asked.  She took it, and studied the
readout.  "We're in the Cardassian bunkhouses.  Gul Darhe'el's office was about two hundred
meters that way."  She pointed and looked up as if she could see the building.  The knot in her
stomach grew tighter.  That was their destination.
     "Do you hear that?"  Sisko asked her suddenly.
     "What?"
     "Shhhh."
     They were both completely silent for a moment.  "I hear water," Kira said, turning
questioningly to Sisko.
     "Water.  A waterfall!"  He moved ahead of Kira, pushing branches aside, remembering
how the water falling from his faucet had entranced him.  Kira followed quickly, not really
understanding why Sisko felt a waterfall was important, dodging the catapulting branches behind
him, but knowing, nevertheless, that he was right.  It seemed to be a journey in itself, those two
hundred meters, but she had to come to a quick stop when Sisko burst into the clearing and stood
still.  She edged around him.
     The clearing was oval in shape, about fifty meters across at its longest point.  On the far
side from where they stood, a leafy hillside ended in a cliff about fifteen meters high from which
a sheet of water fell endlessly.  The waterfall fed a small pond, edged by various sized rocks. 
And
at the side of the waterfall, just out of reach of the flying droplets of mist, stood a man in a long
white robe.
     "Shakaar!"  Kira cried and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms and squeezing him
tightly.  "I was afraid you were --"  She interrupted herself when she noticed Shakaar's lack of
response.  He had not returned her hug, nor had he pushed her away, but merely rested one arm
around her shoulders. "Shakaar?"
     Sisko approached the two respectfully.  "Are you injured?"
     The robed man shook his head.  "I've been waiting for you."
     "Do you know what's going on?"  Sisko asked him directly.
     Again, he shook his head.  "But I have something to show you.  It's .... unsettling."
     Kira exchanged a look with Sisko.  "We've seen a lot of unsettling things." 
     "You haven't seen this."  He moved back, letting his hand slide down Kira's right shoulder
and arm until he held her hand.  Checking her footing, she followed him onto the rocks, knowing
Sisko was right behind her.  She felt the pinpricks of the fine mist on her face as she stepped
carefully from one rock to the next, the sound of the rushing water filling her ears, as they slid
behind the waterfall as if it were a sheet hanging on a clothesline to dry.
     Behind the waterfall was a cavern.  Sisko, checking the layout before noticing his
immediate surroundings, noticed a bend in the cavern.  Tunnels? he wondered.  The sound of
Kira's gasp brought his attention closer.  Only a meter or so from the waterfall, lay a skeleton, it's
right leg and left arm outstretched.  Sisko took the tricorder from the stunned Major, who
surprisingly hadn't dropped it, and directed it to the skeletal remains.  "A thirty-seven year old
Bajoran male."  Sisko told them.  "Died almost twenty years ago.  I'm not certain about the
cause."
     Crouching next to the body, Kira reached in toward the skull and pulled out a Bajoran
earring.  She examined it in the palm of her hand.  The astonishment she felt was broadcast like a
politician's speech.  "The Nevari clan?"  She lay the earring solemnly back where she found it,
rose and backed off.  Without waiting for Sisko to prod her, she explained in a mystified voice,
"After the occupation, there were several clans....eighteen of them....for which no surviving
members could be found.  They were called The Lost Clans.  Nevari was one of them."  Shaking
her head to clear it, she turned to Shakaar, "What does this mean?"
     "I'm not sure, Nerys.  There's more back there," he said, throwing one thumb over his
shoulder to indicate the rear of the cavern.  "Twenty-six more, to be exact.  Men, women, even
children."  
     Kira fell back against one dirt wall and slid to the floor in shock. 
     "Are you telling me all of this," Sisko waved the tricorder he still held to indicate the
cavern in which they stood, "was terraformed and no one found the bodies?"
     Shakaar blinked.  "Most of the terraforming was by remote.  People didn't want to set foot
within the boundaries of Gallitep.  They checked for life signs, but for obvious reasons," he
glanced down at the skeleton at his feet, "they found none.  All that surprises me is that they
weren't disturbed at all."  He walked toward the rear, motioning with one hand toward the
collection of bodies that had been concealed.  Sisko was shocked.  Twenty-six was a lot of
bodies.  They lay in a fairly organized fashion, in rows along the rear, side, and inside wall.  A
couple of skeletons were propped up on outcroppings of rock.  Curled into one corner was a large
skeleton huddled around a smaller one.  Sisko stepped to the center of the room, scanning all
around with his eyes.  "I wouldn't expect robbers," Shakaar continued, "but the ground certainly
wasn't stable during the terraforming.  They should be completely scattered."
     In the joint of the L-shaped cavern, five open tunnels could be seen; two toward the front
and three on the back wall.  "What about those tunnels?"  Sisko asked.
     Looking embarrassed, Shakaar admitted, "They all lead back here.  Eventually."
     Considering what he saw, Sisko returned to the front area and moved next to Kira,
placing one hand on her shoulder.  He looked up at Shakaar.  "Okay.  So we have something to
figure out here.  I think the first thing is to make sure we all know the story so far.  It started with
you Shakaar.  Tell us what happened to bring you here."  He made a point of setting the tricorder
to record, and sat at a right angle to Kira.  
     Shakaar sat opposite him, legs crossing easily.  "A smart idea, Captain Sisko.  I'd been
very preoccupied with the way the war was going, so I went into seclusion and meditated.  After
several days of meditation, I decided to consult the Orb of Prophecy, trying to find a sign I could
use to give our people hope of a good outcome.  The Prophets didn't show me what I'd asked for. 
They showed me Gallitep, when it was at its height as a mining camp.  There was...."  he blinked
tears from his eyes, "... well, I'm sure you have some idea what it must have been like.  Then,
very suddenly, I was back in the Orb Room."
     "Shakaar, there's something you need to know," Sisko said quietly.  "Your Prophets
have...taken a vacation.  The wormhole has closed."
     "Yes, I know."  His voice was rough with emotion.  He cleared his throat.  "Just before I
was pushed out, I received a flash of information.  It took me most of my journey here to sort
through it.  I'm sorry about Jadzia,"  his eyes met both of theirs as he said this, knowing that her
death was like an open wound to both of them.  Did they, like him, comfort themselves by
imagining her sitting in Ops, watching the station in their absence?   "But I don't think this has
anything to do with the wormhole or what happened on your station.  In fact, I think that just
made our job more difficult."
     "I'm sorry to hear you say that,"  Kira spoke up.  The men were both surprised to realize
that she'd heard them.  "Go on, Shakaar.  Why did you come here?"  With visible effort she tore
her eyes from the unfortunate Bajoran's remains and set them on Shakaar.
     "I started walking as a way to clear my head, originally, sorting through the burst of
information.  I saw Dukat shoot Jadzia.  I saw the pagh wraith move from him into the Orb of
Contemplation.  I saw the Eye of the Prophets close.  But I just kept walking.  It must have been
a long time.  I dimly remember passing through a village.  Then I reached the edge of the
Preserve."  Shakaar looked at the floor in front and to his right as he carefully reconstructed his
actions.  "I didn't want to enter it.  Then I had to.  Once I was in, though, the walking became
easier.  After awhile, I heard the screams."
     "Screams?"  Kira and Sisko both questioned him.
     "You don't hear them?"  The two new arrivals shook their heads.  "It's faint, but definitely
there.  Dozens of people, screaming on and on.  I've heard it for nearly two full days now." 
Shakaar said it calmly, as if it were no more than a buzzing insect he had to keep shooing away. 
But Sisko knew even a buzzing insect, if relentless enough, could drive a man insane.  Having to
listen to constant screaming could not have been easy for him.  Perhaps his mediations had
served their purpose.   "It helps that I know who it is."  He motioned with his head to the rear of
the cavern.  "It's them.  They're screaming.  After we've done what we came here to do, I suppose
they'll stop.  I guess it was the screams that led me here.  Like a beacon.  Maybe they led you,
too, even though you didn't hear them."
     "I was asleep on DS9,"  Kira volunteered, "and I dreamed of a thick fog, and then you
came out of it.  You opened your mouth, and ... those screams came out.  I don't hear them now,
but I did in that dream.  I tried to talk to you, but you went back into the fog."  She squeezed his
hand, remembering how worried she'd been.  "When I woke up, I knew I had to find you."
     After a moment, they both turned to Sisko, waiting for his version.  At his hesitation,
Shakaar prompted, "Captain?  This *was* your idea."
     He took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip.  "Okay. But it's vastly different than what
happened to either of you."  Carefully, he described his dream in detail.  The two listened politely
all the way through.  "I'm still not sure if I was pulled out or pushed out," he commented, trying
to relive the sensation.  "Obviously it wasn't either one since there was no one else in the room,
but I'm reasonably sure I didn't leave that bed under my own power.  I remember looking at my
hands, then I woke up in a cold sweat.  I found myself entranced at the water falling from the
faucet when I washed up.  When I heard the waterfall, I made the connection.  But that wasn't
part of the dream.  The dream itself ....?  I don't know what to think."  He had developed some
conclusions since then, but he wasn't sure if he was prepared to share them just yet.  "Is dream
even the right word for what we experienced?"
     After a few moments of stunned silence, Kira offered, "Gallitep was a bloodbath, you
could say."
     "That's possible,"  Sisko agreed.  He kept thinking about how he had stared at the blood
on his hands.  Blood on His Hands.  The blood of Bajor?  The war....the blood of Jadzia?  It had
been nagging at him ever since.  Had the Prophets been trying to make him feel guilty for
ignoring their warning to stay on DS9 instead of commanding the mission into
Dominion-controlled space?  As difficult as it was to admit all of this, he found himself voicing
all these feelings to Kira and Shakaar.  There were far too many interpretations to this vision, and
he wasn't comfortable with any of them.
     "I told you before, Captain," Kira admonished him, "the Prophets would not want you to
feel that way.  You're the Emissary."
     "Have you heard the story of Judas, Major?"
     "Another children's story?"
     "Not really,"  Sisko explained.  "He was a religious figure on Earth about twenty-five
hundred years ago.  He was a follower of a man named Jesus, who was believed to be the son of
God.  According to the religious literature, it was Judas' purpose to betray Jesus and send him to
his death, which would cleanse believers of their sins.  After doing so, Judas felt so guilty he
went out and hung himself from a tree."
     "Your point is...?"  Shakaar asked.
     Sisko turned his head to face Shakaar, "The point is that Judas only did what his God
wanted him to.  Yet he ended up killing himself."
     "You're not Judas,"  Kira said flat out.  In her head, she added, "and you're not going to
hang yourself from a tree."
     The worry, guilt and rage burst from Sisko and he rose and walked away, then turned
back and spoke from a distance, "You don't know that!  Maybe I've betrayed the Prophets in
some way and I don't even know it, or didn't until now.  I led the first mission into the Gamma
Quadrant, the mission that made the Vorta take notice of us.  I angered Dukat into allying with
them.  *I* released the pagh wraiths from the Bajoran artifact."  He paused from his tirade to
catch his breath.  "Possibly including the pagh wraith that invaded Dukat and killed Jadzia."
     "Captain..."  Kira didn't know what to say.
     But Sisko wasn't finished.  "I'm the Emissary.  Shakaar, you're the First Minister.  And
Kira, you're our go-between.  If the three of us are out of the picture, that changes everything." 
He paused for effect before putting his conclusion into words.  "Maybe we're here to join the Lost
Clans, Major."
     That brought Kira to her feet and she approached Sisko, put a hand on each of his
shoulders and held him at arms' length.  "Captain, listen to me.  We are not here to die."  She
spoke each word slowly and clearly, paused, then added, "If the Prophets want us dead there are
plenty of other ways to do it.  Look at me, sir."  Sisko met her gaze reluctantly.  "I have faith in
the Prophets.  Something is happening here, but it can't be that.  If this is a cave for Lost Clans,
then they're missing a lot of people.  My *family* is back on DS9 waiting for me.  And for you."
     Not convinced, Sisko muttered, "Yes.  Jake.  At least the clan of Sisko won't be entirely
lost."  Even as he said it, he felt the challenge it voiced, and wanted to take it back.  Please,
whatever this is, leave Jake out of it, he pleaded with whatever power may be listening.  Take
me, if you want, but let the boy alone.  
     In the depressing silence that followed Sisko's assumption, they all heard it.  The
pounding of the waterfall that had become as second nature as the feel of DS9's engines, was
interrupted briefly.  The three of them, Sisko, Kira, still holding Sisko by the shoulders, and
Shakaar, still sitting cross-legged several feet away, looked at the waterfall.
     With a big dripping grin, Jake Sisko, breathing heavily from having run most of the way
through the Preserve, said, "Hi, Dad!"
     A look from Sisko warned Shakaar and Kira not to return to their current topic of
conversation.  "Jake, what are you doing here?"  He moved away from Kira and approached his
son, prepared to accompany him back to the station immediately, no matter what the Prophets did
to him.
     "To tell you the truth, Dad, I don't know."  Jake looked around in confusion.
     "Captain,"  Shakaar interrupted, now rising to his feet, his head tilted as if he were
listening intently.  "The screams have stopped."
     Shakaar's notion that they would stop when their mission was completed was wrong. 
When does one turn off a beacon?  When there is no one else to be guided by it.  "All the pieces
are here,"  he muttered, looking at his son sadly.  


     Stepping forward, Jake came up short, nearly tripping over the obstacle in his path. 
Giving it a wide berth, he crossed to his father, glancing uneasily back at the skeleton.  "Dad? 
What's going on?"
     "I'll fill you in, Jake." Swinging one arm around his son's shoulders, he pulled him aside. 
He could have ordered Kira to explain things to Jake, but Sisko wanted his son to receive an
edited version.  There was no reason Jake needed to know that his own father was consumed by
guilt, and had had a vision of drowning in blood.
     As Sisko moved off with his son, Shakaar rose and came up behind Kira.  "What if he's
right," he whispered.  
     "He's not right,"  Kira insisted.  After a pause, she looked him in the eyes, "We aren't
trapped here.  Even if we accomplish nothing, we can always leave and go back to our lives. 
Maybe all we're supposed to do is report what we've found."  She sighed heavily, knowing that
wasn't the case.  "Maybe the four of us are only here to back up each other when we report to
Winn."
     Shakaar put a hand on Kira's right shoulder.  "You know that's not it," he said.  "We can
all feel it."  He glanced around the cavern as if looking for the Prophets, "There's something
more."
     Hugging herself, Kira moved away a bit.  "I ... "  She licked her lips, looking for words. 
"I hate this!  I hate not knowing!  Why can't they just tell us what they want?"
     Again, Shakaar approached her, keeping his voice low.  "Maybe that's just it.  They can't. 
I keep thinking I was supposed to get more information from the Orb of Prophecy.  But now it's
like...," he paused, searching for an analogy, "their com system is down.  All they can do is send
a code and hope we can interpret it."
     After considering it in those terms, terms she could comprehend, the nervousness in Kira's
stomach calmed itself.  Her arms dropped to her sides and she welcomed Shakaar's hug.  "Of
course," she admitted.  "Thank you."
     "All right, people, let's get to work."  Sisko, Jake looking curious at his side, announced
his approach.  "We need to find out what happened here.  Jake and I are going to scan the
remains.  Kira, I want you to take the supplies we have," he handed over Jake's pack, somewhat
smaller than when he'd received it, "and take inventory.  Set up a rationing system --"
     "For how many days?"
     Sisko paused.  He'd originally thought this wouldn't take long, since he and Kira both had
brought two days rations, had used one on the way.  They'd need the other for the way back.  That
didn't really leave time for eating here.  But he couldn't be sure.  "As many as possible."  His gaze
moved to Shakaar, "Shakaar, you've been here two days and you told us you brought nothing. 
What have you been living on?"
     "Well, as you can see, there's an abundance of fresh water," he said, pointing at the
waterfall, "and I've been out a few times.  There's a field of wild tulaberries not far from here. 
And I've found some edible roots as well.  We won't starve."
     "Nevertheless, I'd like to be prepared."  No hint of Sisko's worry, fear, or guilt remained
as he took charge as usual.  "Find a container and gather some extra supplies.  Is there another
way out of the cavern?"
     "No, Captain.  As I told you, all the tunnels start and end here.  I've been through them a
dozen times."
     "Go again."  He swung his own tricorder off his shoulder, "Take this and map them.  Be
thorough.  But the supplies first."  Kira had already begun to spread out what they had.  She
consolidated the ration bars into one container, and handed the empty one to Shakaar.  He took it
wordlessly, nodded to them, and slipped out of the cavern.
     Sisko and Jake moved to the far side of the cavern to begin their scans. No one spoke
while they each completed their assigned tasks.  Twenty minutes later, Shakaar returned, having
filled his container with a mixture of berries and roots.  He gave it to Kira, then moved on into
the tunnels, activating the tricorder, only to emerge minutes later from another doorway. 
Obediently, he entered the next doorway, continuing to weave in and out in search of a new path
he might have missed.
     Jake and Sisko soon moved next to each other, quietly discussing their findings for a
moment before coming to where Kira sat.  "Major?"  Captain Sisko inquired.
     "If we eat the bare minimum, starting with the berries which won't keep long, the supplies
can last a day and a half.  That's if we don't reserve anything for the trip back, or go out for more
roots and berries."  She didn't sound like she considered that last part a good idea.  "Anything
less, we risk losing strength and stamina.  We can stave off starvation and eat less, but we might
need energy for ...well, for whatever we're here for."
     "Understood, Major.  You're in charge of rations."  Kira nodded, accepting the
responsibility.
     Just then, Shakaar emerged from the tunnels for a fourth time.  "All right, Captain.  I've
been through them all again.  There are no new pathways, unless you brought some weapons to
shoot our way out.  I even felt the walls.  They are all very solid.  Did you and Jake come up with
anything?"  He handed the borrowed tricorder back to Sisko.
     Sisko took the tricorder and began studying the map, deferring to Jake, who had been
examining the results while they talked.  "They all died from starvation, within days of each
other,"  Jake said.
     Shakaar disagreed.  "That can't be right. There's lots of --"  He stopped himself, realizing
that their deaths would have been before the luscious Preserve had been terraformed.  When they
had been alive, he reminded himself, this was Gallitep, where people died everyday from
starvation, torture, any number of things.  
     "Except for him,"  Jake interrupted, indicating the lone remains of the Bajoran male
pointing to the exit.  "His DNA is traceable several centimeters into the ground.  He bled to
death,
months earlier.  From the location of the traces and scrapes on the jaw and upper vertebrae, I'd
say his throat had been cut open."
     Sisko took over, "Good work, Jake.  I'm guessing, of course, but it looks like he tried to
leave, and was used as an example to keep the others here."
     "By whom?"  Kira asked.  "And why?"  She looked like she was going to be ill as she
gazed at their doorman with a new understanding.  "Cardassians," she muttered angrily,
answering her first question.  
     "Perhaps," Sisko agreed, "but I wouldn't jump to conclusions."
     "Jump to conclusions?!"  Kira nearly shouted.  "This was Gallitep!  Who else would it
be?  We've uncovered yet another atrocity here and we have to take this information back with
us!"
     Shakaar pulled Kira back, "Darhe'el is dead, Nerys.  It won't change anything,"  he said
calmly.  
     "No, it won't,"  Sisko admitted.  "But I think she is right.  We have to report this
immediately.  The Lost Clans have been found.  Anybody disagree?"  He waited, watching as
each of them nodded.  "It's settled then.  Let's pack up."
     They all bent to gather their things, then froze when the noise of the waterfall stopped.  It
wasn't merely interrupted, as it had been when Jake entered, but stopped completely.  It also grew
noticeably dimmer in the cavern, although not pitch black.  As one, they all stood and turned to
see their exit completely blocked off.  The waterfall was gone!  In it's place, stood a solid stone
wall, bumpy and craggy, blending perfectly with the other walls of the cavern.
     Jake rushed forward, first touching the wall hesitantly, then pounding on it with the flat of
his hands.  Sisko tilted his head, his intelligence quelching the sudden panic that threatened to
engulf him.  He could see that same panic in the faces of the rest, including his son, who now
backed away from the wall and stared at it in horror.  "We're trapped."
     "Looks like we're not going anywhere.  We aren't finished yet.  Anybody disagree?" 
Sisko asked, watching the wall.
     "No,"  the other three replied in unison.
     There was a blinding flash of light that caused them all to throw an arm over their eyes. 
Momentarily blinded, the sound of the water returning was music, then the sight of the waterfall
was like a symphony.  Sisko took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the relief, like the panic,
showing on everyone's face.  The idea of all of this as an adventure vanished, and a new
seriousness pervaded the cavern.  They bent to their work, searching, examining, discussing with
an earnestness that had been lacking before.  No longer was going home the priority.  The
priority was now finding the answer.


     When night fell on Bajor, the group felt no closer to a solution.  Instead, they were tired,
hungry, dirty, and frustrated.  When Sisko suggested they try to get some sleep, it won by
unanimous vote.  Each of them picked a spot and tried to get comfortable.  Before he settled
down, Jake cast one more look at their lifeless roommate.  "Dad?"  he asked, a little embarrassed
at how uncomfortable it made him feel.  "Do you think we could...?"  
     Sisko got Shakaar's attention with a gesture.  "I think it's time he joins his friends." 
Normally, Sisko would be loathe to disturb the dead, but he admitted that it would be easier on
all of them if there were a space free of remains.
     Shakaar nodded.  "We'll need a litter.  The bones will be loose."
     Moving to the rear room, Jake puttered in the dim light for a moment before returning
with the cloth in which his food and water had been wrapped.  Unfolding it completely, it
stretched to just short of the length required.  Carefully, Sisko pushed the extended leg in while
Shakaar did likewise for the arm, and they could see that it would fit on the cloth. Positioning the
cloth closely parallel to the skeleton, the two men slid the skeleton onto the cloth, then each
picked up his respective corners and on Sisko's count of three they moved the body to the rear
and placed it near the others.  
     A bit of a chill in the air, though slight, encouraged the three to huddle in the middle of
the room, slowly stretching away to recline as drowsiness overtook them.  It may have been the
chill that awoke Jake some time later.  Even he couldn't be sure.  He opened his eyes to the
glistening downpour, the sound barely registering anymore.  Remembering how it had vanished
when they had suggested leaving, Jake grew nervous.  What if it kept doing that?  Maybe he
should run out quickly, before anyone knew what he was doing.  He could make it.  He could run
fast, and he wasn't afraid of getting wet.  The pond outside was shallow.  Then he glanced at the
dimly lit bodies sleeping peacefully around him and knew that he couldn't abandon them.  Still,
he was beginning to feel a little shut in.  Quietly, he rose and moved to the wall, inching slowly
closer to the waterfall.  He stopped just inside the dry zone, then sat, leaning against the wall, and
resting his head, facing the fresh air, on his knees.  From there, he could see a slice of the night
sky, a spattering of stars, and the gently swaying dark shape of a tree or two. 
     Paternal instinct made Sisko stir.  Seeing that Jake was not where he had been when they
settled down, he immediately looked for him, relaxing when he found the boy hugging his knees
near the entrance.  Without moving, Sisko settled back again, but instead of sleeping he found
himself watching his son.  It had been a long time since he'd watched his son sleep.  He found it a
little unnerving that Jake *could* sleep, given the circumstances.  When he'd been Jake's age, he
hadn't had to deal with anything this disturbing.  He thought about how times had changed, and
how much more the boy had to deal with, come to terms with.  There was pride that Jake seemed
to be handling all these things, his mother's death, the war, Jadzia's death, his own combat
experiences, with maturity and aplomb.  At the same time, there was a bittersweet sadness that
Jake had to experience these things at all.  How strange.  Everyone grew up.  But no parent ever
wants it to happen to their child.  Not this way.  How he would have liked to take Jake back to
Earth and live with his father at the restaurant.  A simple life.  A safe life.  Yet Sisko knew that
Jake felt at home on DS9, and probably wouldn't want to leave even for that.  
     As Sisko mused to himself, Kira turned in her sleep, bumping an elbow on the hard
ground.  "Ow," she murmured, waking instantly.  She looked around to see if she had disturbed
anyone and noticed Sisko, his eyes glistening in the dim light.  Following his gaze, she saw Jake,
and realized what must be going through her captain's mind.  "He'll be all right,"  she whispered.
     A startled Sisko turned his gaze away from his son and saw Kira, now with her head
propped up on one elbow.  "You may not see it, but he's terrified."  He inched closer to Kira so
he wouldn't have to raise his voice, and to avoid disturbing Shakaar who was sleeping soundly. 
"He's confused, and for the first time in his life, I can't explain it to him because I'm confused
too."
     "We'll figure it out, Captain," Kira comforted him.  "Trust the Prophets."
     There was a moment of silence from Sisko.  Then he turned to her, started to say "I can't",
but changed it to "I'll try."  Then he pointedly curled back up and closed his eyes.


     Although he had been the only one to sleep uninterrupted, Shakaar was last to waken the
next morning.  He had no more than stirred when Kira held a container of tulaberries and roots
out to him.  Smiling, he quipped, "Ah, breakfast in bed.  How romantic."  Sitting up, he noticed
that the other three were also hungrily munching on the berries and roots he had gathered
yesterday.  "Good morning."
     After everyone had eaten and drunk, Shakaar wiped his hands against each other, "Well,
Captain, what next?  I confess I'm at a complete loss to suggest a new approach to all of this."
     "I was hoping a good night's sleep would give us a fresh look, but I'm afraid nothing's
coming to me, either,"  Sisko replied.
     With some mild hesitation, Shakaar slowly suggested, "Perhaps we should go back to the
beginning.  Talk out everything we have so far and see if it takes us somewhere."  
     "The beginning?"  Sisko asked, reluctant to take that route.
     "The visions."
     "We've done that.  I don't think rehashing it is a good idea."
     Jake, helping Kira store the remaining food, sensed his father's unease.  It wasn't like his
father to dismiss an idea so abruptly.  "Why not, Dad?  I think it's a good idea.  Maybe there was
something in the visions that they forgot about before." 
     "It was the visions that got us here.  That was their purpose.  We need to move onward,
not go back."
     "But you have no suggestions on how to do that, do you?"  Kira asked as she pushed the
wrapped bundle against the wall.  "I agree with Shakaar.  If we're up against a wall here, maybe
backing up and getting a running start will help us break through it."  She crossed to Shakaar,
"Do you remember anything else from the 'information packet' the Prophets gave you?  What
exactly did you see at Gallitep before the orb shut down?"
     "Major,"  Sisko interrupted, "Don't make me make it an order."
     Kira turned toward Sisko, a sudden realization dawning on her face as she looked from
Sisko to Jake.  "You didn't tell him everything, did you?"
     "Tell me what?"  Jake stepped forward, then back again when Kira held up one hand,
palm outward, at him while still staring at his father.
     "Captain ..... ", she shook her head, "maybe we shouldn't call you that here.  We have to
all be equal here.  This thing needs all four of us.  No one's in charge, and no one gets special
treatment.  The Prophets put each of us here for a reason and unless everyone has all the
information we're never going home."
     "Dad, what is she talking about?"
     Sisko ignored his son as he stepped closer to Kira, the anger on his face undisputable. 
Unable to push his own vision to the back of his mind, it had continued to nag his guilt.    And
more than ever he wanted to spare his son this one thing.  He couldn't save Jennifer.  He couldn't
stop the war, and he couldn't save Jadzia.  Feeling a bit ineffectual when it came to protecting
Jake from the world, he wasn't going to fail this time.   The vision was disturbing him enough,
despite all of his years and experience.  He didn't want to imagine what even a description of it
would mean to Jake.    Now, the pressure to inform him anyway only added to his sense of guilt.  
He could tell Jake of the vision, knowing his perceptive son would see his interpretation without
being told and know that his father was responsible for the entire Dominion War, or he could
protect his son's paternal pride and doom this mission, whatever it was, possibly causing all four
of them to die a slow death here in this haunted cave on Bajor.  "I'm sick to death of the
Prophets," he growled, resenting again the numerous times he'd bowed to their will.   "They're
not Prophets to me, Major.  They're wormhole aliens who enjoy manipulating other beings for
their own amusement under the guise of Godhood.   They've brought us here for ....for act two." 
A wave of his arm reminded everyone of the contents waiting at the rear of the cave.   
     "Captain--" Kira tried to let Sisko know he was now scaring his son far more than the
story of his vision would have.   She could see it on Jake's face.   He looked from her to his father
and back again, knowing he'd been left out of something and that his father was the one who
wanted it that way.  
     Sisko went on unimpeded, "How do we know those people didn't go through the same
thing we're going through?  We can't figure out what to do next because there *is* nothing to do
next."  He had no sooner finished this sentence when he glanced at Jake and realized his strategic
error.  To Jake, it must have sounded like he was giving up on the mystery held here and
resigning everyone to death.  Still seething, he glanced at each worried face before admitting, "I
need to be alone," and stepping quickly to the back of the cave and disappearing into the first
tunnel.
     Worried, Jake started to follow his father, but was held back by Kira and Shakaar.  "Let
him be,"  Kira whispered to him.
     Electing not to struggle against them, he simply stared sadly after his father.  "It's not
himself he's upset about,"  Jake theorized.   The way his father had said the word "Prophets" told
him much.  It had come out like a curse.  Jake knew what was hurting his father, what was at the
bottom of whatever he was hiding from Jake, because Jake felt it too.  "He wants to know why
they let Jadzia die."  Breaking away from them, he added, "and so do I."  He settled down against
the wall to wait out his father's absence.
     Sympathetically, Kira went and crouched down next to Jake.  She said nothing, just let
him know she was there.  After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked quietly, "What was it
he didn't tell me?  He had a vision, too, didn't he?  What was it?"
     Looking at the floor, then glancing at the tunnels, Kira made a decision.  She still
believed Jake should be informed, but she wasn't the one to do it.  "He'll tell you when he's ready,
Jake.  I can't --"
     His expression grew serious.  What could possibly have happened that he couldn't tell
Jake about?  "I understand."  And in that instant, the relationship between father and son changed
dramatically.   While it wasn't the first time his father had kept information from him, it was the
first time it had become a real issue.  After staring into air while he sorted his thoughts, Jake
turned to Kira.  "If I'm meant to know, the Prophets will see to it that he tells me."  After a pause,
he added, "what he said, about us .... joining the Lost Clans . . .  you don't think it's possible."
     "No, I don't.  Not for a minute."  
     "You think he's indispensable because he's the Emissary."
     "Yes."  Why would Jake be questioning her faith?
     "Major,"  Jake said without looking at her, "no one is indispensible.  Life goes on no
matter who dies, in case you haven't noticed.  Don't you ever think about the universal picture? 
Think of it, Major."  Turning only his head toward her, he continued, "Billions....trillions of life
forms, on millions of planets, all going about their lives.  Eating, working, sleeping.  How can
any of them be important?  How can anything any of them do really matter in the end?"  He
shook his head.  "Think of all the time that's gone by.  All of it.  All of the beings that have lived
and died on Bajor, on Earth, all the planets.  Who remembers them?  Oh, there's a few who's
names remain part of history, but who really remembers who they were?   They're just names
now.  Someday, no matter what you think now, none of this will matter anymore because all of
the people affected by it will be gone.  Being the Emissary doesn't make him important enough. 
Nothing does.  It's a wonder that anyone's considered important at all."
     "Oh, Jake!"  Kira empathized sadly.  She too had dealt with more than her share of loss,
and she knew that what Jake was feeling was a result of the losses he'd suffered, before he had
the maturity to deal with it all.  Unlike she, who had lost her mother at such a young age she
barely remembered her, Jake had known and loved his mother when she'd been killed in a Borg
attack.  And Jadzia's recent death was bringing long buried feelings to the surface.  "Jake," she
told him, "you have it all wrong.  The wonder is that they're ALL important!"
     "All?  Even the Cardassians?"  A raised eyebrow told her Jake was thinking 'aha, now I've
got you'.
     But she'd been prepared for this argument.  "Don't confuse importance with worth."  She
caught Jake's eyes with her own and held them.  "Part of who I am, is because of the Cardassians. 
And I like who I am.  They, even Dukat, were important in getting me where I am today.  Oh, I
can still hate them with a passion, Jake, but I can understand that without them I would be a
completely different person.  The point is that we don't have to be important to the universe.  We
only have to be important to each other."  She stopped talking, letting him absorb that last point.
     Just then, the whole cavern echoed with a horrible scream. 


     Sisko was wrenched painfully from reality into utter darkness, causing him to scream
loudly.  His entire body throbbed with effort and fell to the ground, curling into a tight ball and
shaking.  In moments, he was sweating as if in a fever, open eyes staring into nothing.  In his
conscious world of darkness, he heard Jadzia's voice.  "The Sisko is in pain."
     "Yes," he hissed.
     "There is an Emptiness." No emotion accompanied the statement.
     "Yes." 
     The Prophet saw an Emptiness in Sisko.  An Emptiness called Jadzia, ragged and raw, it's
nerves quivering from the fresh injury.  Nearby, another Emptiness called Jennifer smoldered and
smoked.  
     "The Emptiness is linear," came Jadzia's soft voice.
     "Yes."  It was all Sisko's wracked body could produce, though the pain eased a little.
     The Prophet/Jadzia spoke again and Sisko wished he could see her.  Even knowing it
wasn't really Jadzia, he longed to see her face.  "You blame us for the Emptiness."
     "Yes!  I do!"  he growled.  He could not lie to them.  
     Now, although he was still in complete blackness, he could almost see the Jadzia Prophet
shaking it's head.  "We cannot take away the Emptiness.  We cannot heal the Emptiness.  Jadzia
is no longer linear."
     A new voice.  Kira.  "The Sisko is distracted by the Emptiness."
     And another.  This time Shakaar.  "The Sisko must focus on the task at hand."
     Then, as suddenly as he'd been taken away, he was shoved back to reality.  In the last
instant, he heard the Prophet....no, it was Jadzia; there was no Prophet echo in the voice.  It said,
"A puzzle is linear...." then floated away as if on a breeze.  
     That same breeze carried more words to him, this time not spoken by Prophets, but by his
friends.  "I don't understand,"  Jake said.  "This never happened to him before when he talked to
the Prophets."
     "The orbs weren't dead before," speculated Shakaar.  "He's coming back."
     When Sisko's eyes focused, he saw three faces staring down at him from only inches
above.  A little embarrassed, he took deep breaths and stretched out his aching muscles.  Three
arms helped him to his feet and the crowd stumbled through the tunnel back to the cave, where
Sisko took a seat on a stone outcropping.  
     "Are you all right, Dad?"
     He was still physically weak, but managed to nod.  "I'll be fine."  His brow furrowed as he
struggled to find the strand of information he'd been given.  "A puzzle is linear," he repeated.
     "Captain?"  Kira prompted.  "Does this have something to do with the puzzle analogy you
had before?"
     "Yes."  It was becoming clear in his mind.  Now, if he could just translate it into words. 
"A puzzle is linear.  Each piece is placed one at a time, but when all the pieces are together, it's
not a puzzle anymore.  It's something else.  A complete picture.  Over time, it becomes
something else."  He still felt like he was scrabbling for the line.
     "But you can see the picture long before you put the last piece in,"  Jake said
automatically.  "It doesn't have to be finished."
     "Not in a holojig."  Sisko reached for Jake's arm blindly, pulling him closer.  "Jake, Jake,
do you remember grandpa's holojig?  What was it when it was finished?"
     "A house."  Jake blinked in confusion.  Behind him, Shakaar was observing the
conversation intently.
     "Not just any house, though."
     "No.  Grandpa's house."
     "The House of Sisko,"  Sisko clarified.
     "House, meaning clan?"  Kira narrowed the idea down even further.  So far, the reasoning
seemed to be leading back to Sisko's original idea, that the four of them would be joining the
other clans.
     "And what happened to the house in the hologram?"  Sisko quizzed his son again.
     "It changed into a restaurant.  Grandpa's restaurant."
     "The house became something else."
     There was a moment of silence as the three of them put these pieces together.  "So we're
here to help these clans become something else?"  Jake guessed.  "Become what?"
     "Kira, I want you to compile a list of the clan names,"  Sisko instructed, acknowledging
Jake's question with a look but not proposing an answer.  Kira nodded and left the group to do so. 
Feeling his strength returning now, Sisko rose and picked up his tricorder.  "Shakaar, I want you
to look at this."  He put the map of the tunnels on the view screen.  "It looked familiar to me, but
I can't place it."
     Shakaar looked at the map, realizing suddenly what Sisko meant.  "Add in the L shape of
the cavern, Captain."
     Sisko adjusted the map, then turned it.  "This is one of the symbols on the artifact I
brought to DS9.  But it was one that .... Jadzia couldn't translate."  
     "I'm not sure about it's meaning, either, but I have seen it before."  He shrugged.  "It
seems to simply be a symbol of the Prophets.  Like a signature...or a thumbprint."
     "Hmmmmm."  Sisko considered this idea.  It didn't really tell them anything more, but it
did emphasize the presence of the Prophets here in some form.  Not just now, but for all of the
last decade or more.  They'd been watching over these people, whether or not they had caused
their deaths.  And now was the time for something to happen.  What?  There had to be more
clues, a new approach.  Something.
     Just then, Kira returned and handed Sisko the other tricorder.  He set the other one down
and took it.  "The list of names," she explained, "I included personal names as well as surnames. 
Eighteen clans, twenty-six people.  Fifteen men, eight women and three children."
     Sisko scanned the list, hoping something would jump out at him.  He slid off the rock so
he could reach the soft layer of dirt and started writing, as Kira and Shakaar watched.   Sisko
scribbled quickly, looking from the tricorder to the ground and back again.  The first letter of
each clan name....was it an anagram?  Only one vowel.  No, that's not it.  He wiped out the dusty
letters, scowling.
      Unnoticed by them, Jake had moved away and sat on another outcropping, concentrating
on his own theory.
     "Um...Dad?"  
     "Just a minute, Jake.  I think I'm onto something."  He wrote the first name on the list and
began to rearrange its letters, trying to find a word.  "Kira, maybe it needs to be Bajoran words. 
Can you make anything out of it?  Shakaar?"
     "Dad?"
     Sisko finally looked up to see his son sitting several feet away, hugging his stomach much
the same way Kira had hugged hers on the grassy plain, with an absolutely terrified expression on
his face.  Concerned, he left Kira and Shakaar to their study and went to his son.  "What is it,
Jake?"
     "Look around, Dad.  What do you see that looks like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle?"
     He didn't have to look far.  He only had to follow Jake's gaze which was directed at the
pile of remains.  Something clicked in Sisko's head.  Interlocking pieces.  The bones?  It felt
right, but there were thousands of bones here.  Quietly, Sisko retrieved the other tricorder. 
Holding it out to Jake, he said in a low voice, "I want you to scan them again, with your idea in
mind.  I don't want to mention it to the others until we have more to go on, but I think you're on
the right track.  Good work."  With that, he gathered the canteens and went toward the waterfall
to fill them, hoping they would be able to pack up and leave soon.
     Still at the outcropping just outside of the tunnels, Kira and Shakaar studied the list, and
sifted through the pile of ear cuffs.  They sat cross-legged next to each other, brainstorming as
they went.  "What about this?"  Kira asked, scribbling in the dirt like Sisko had.  Then she rubbed
it out herself in disgust.  After brushing the dirt from her hands onto her slacks, she pressed the
heels of her hands into her eyes for a moment, then rubbed her face vigorously.  "I could really go
for a raktijino."  It was strange.  After several hours of sleep, she felt refreshed and tired at the
same time.  She wasn't physically tired, but her eyes ached from straining to focus in the
changing volume of light and her concentration wandered easily.   Her body missed the warmth
and familiarity of her morning cup of raktijino and refused to greet a new day until it had its
regular allotment.  
     Shaking off the tendency to let her mind wander, she returned her attention to the objects
in front of her.  Shakaar suggested, "Maybe the Nevari clan is the key.  Why was he singled out?"
     Shrugging, Kira replied, "Because he tried to leave."
     "I don't know.  I think he was left up front for a reason."  He pawed through the earcuffs
until he found the one taken from the Nevari male and examined it, then set it apart from the
others.  "Let's see what we have left."  He moved closer to Kira,  unconsciously massaging her
shoulder with one hand to encourage her.  
     She smiled up at him in appreciation, "Thank you."  Out of the corner of her eye, she
noticed Jake begin to wander toward them a little, carefully watching his tricorder monitor.  
Another step, and he became aware that she had seen him and he quickly backed off in
embarrassment.  Kira grinned.  He obviously thought he'd been interrupting a romantic interlude. 
If there was something he wanted to say to them, he must have decided it could wait until later.
     It wasn't long before Sisko returned with the filled canteens, placing them near the food
supply.  He went to Jake, and the two conferred for a time, then they both approached Shakaar
and Kira.  "Tell them what you found, Jake."
     "I remember something not being quite right when I scanned them before, but I couldn't
put my finger on it so I didn't say anything.  It only came clear when I scanned your skeletal
structures for comparison."
     "And?"  the two Bajorans said in unison.
     "Each of the twenty-six bodies has an extra bone."
     Kira rose and gently took the tricorder from Jake, "What?"  
     Jake narrated while Kira scanned the results herself.  "They're small, and some of them
are embedded in joints or vertebrae, but they clearly don't belong.  In fact, most of them would
interfere with normal function....if they were still alive."
     After several moments of pure astonishment, Sisko broke the silence, "I know we're all
disinclined to disturb the dead, but those extra bones will have to be collected.  Unless you have
objections, I believe it's appropriate for the two of you, as Bajorans, to do so,"  he said to
Shakaar and Kira.
     It took over half an hour for the two of them to gather the bones.  For each body, they had
to pinpoint the location of the extra bone, then extract it without causing further damage.  While
they worked, Jake and his father watched, both prepared to help if it was requested.  Jake toyed
with the idea of asking his father about his vision, but never gathered the nerve.  Occasionally, he
would glance at his father, with a new respect for the turmoil that had to be going on inside.  It
was more than just the pressures of command, and feeling responsible for the safety of hundreds
of people on the station.   His was not a normal command, and Starfleet was not the only power
he served.  Although he argued about it and grew angry, Jake knew his father would do what the
Prophets asked of him.  And what must it be like to constantly be wondering what they would
ask for next?  At least with Starfleet, he could rest assured that they would let him keep his post
on DS9 as long as the Dominion allowed it.  But serving the Prophets was a much more
uncertain thing.  Add in the factor of a son living in such a volatile environment as a war zone,
and you have enough for anyone to worry about.   While Jake was curious about what his father
refused to tell him, he was reluctant to force it out of him.   He decided to respect his father's
privacy, and just let it go.
     Soon, the four of them were once again sitting in a circle, this time around a pile of small
bones.  Shakaar spread the bones out so that all of them could be seen.  Hesitantly, each of them
took a couple and tried to fit them together.   Time dragged by as they tried again and again to
make even one connection.  They stopped to eat and drink, and took a short nap, then came back
to the bone pile.  "Okay, there has to be something here,"  Kira said in frustration.  She glanced at
the pieces in front of Shakaar, noticing that he was staring at them intently.  "Shakaar?"
     Ignoring her, he reached forward and manipulated the bones again.  Instead of trying to
hook them together, he merely laid them near each other.   
     "And,"  Kira said in surprise.
     "Pardon me, Major?"  Sisko asked.
     She pointed at what Shakaar had arranged.  "That's ancient Bajoran.  The symbol for
'and'".
     "Words.  We're looking for words?"  Jake asked, tossing in the bones he was holding.  He
didn't know
modern Bajoran, let alone the ancient written language.  
     Kira's brow furrowed, "No, not words.  Letters."  She pushed one of the bones in front of
Shakaar.  "Not 'and'.  'A'."  
     Shakaar suddenly began moving the small bones quickly, trying one arrangement,
discarding it and trying another.  The other three watched as, his concentration unbroken,
Shakaar continued for close to an hour, trying to use all the bones to form letters that made a
word.  There always seemed to be either bones left over, or no word could be made.  Reluctantly,
he finally discarded the "A" Kira had found, and in another fifteen minutes he had formed a
coherent word.
     For the first time since he had begun, Shakaar looked up.  "Blood,"  he translated for
them.
     There was silence.   For three of the group, there was only one reference for that word:
Sisko's vision.  Sisko's gaze moved inward when Shakaar spoke it and remained there.  Kira and
Shakaar looked at Sisko solemnly.  Were the Prophets asking Sisko to come clean with his son? 
Were they tormenting him by keeping the image in the foreground of his mind with these
reminders?  
     But Jake didn't notice the wordless communications going on with his companions.  He
absorbed the word into his brain and made a different connection.  Rising quickly, he snagged a
tricorder and moved to the front of the cave.  "Dad, over here!"  The rest of them followed,
finding him standing near the waterfall, pointing at the ground.  "This is where he bled to death,"
he said as he adjusted dials.  
     "Are you detecting anything?"  Sisko asked, moving toward his son.  Before Jake could
answer, he knelt down at the spot and began scraping at the ground with his bare hands.   Jake
shook his head, discarded the tricorder and joined his father.  But the ground was hard.  The four
of them looked frantically around for a digging tool.  Determination solid on his face, Sisko went
to the nearest skeleton and stared down at it.  "Prophets forgive me," he whispered as he bent
down.  The other three watched in modified horror as Sisko ripped an arm away from the
skeleton.  He easily pulled it apart at the elbow joint, then dropped the upper part while he broke
the thinner bone over one knee.  He then dropped those as he did the same to the thicker bone. 
Then he gathered the four bones, each with a nicely jagged edge, and brought them back to the
others.  Keeping one in his hand, he dropped the other three and stabbed at the dirt floor with the
jagged edge. 
     Kira took one of the bones and joined him, then Shakaar followed suit.  Jake swallowed
with difficulty and picked up the last bone piece.  The four of them dug furiously.  The hard
ground made progress slow, but there was progress.  They were all panting and sweaty.  Kira and
Sisko threw off their jackets and continued in their sleeveless tops, their light colors already
smudged in several spots.  Their arms and backs ached, but they continued.  An answer to all this
was close.  Too close to slow down now.   
     They rotated digging and stopped often to drink, but as the hole grew and there was more
elbow room,  it soon became a digging committee.  Kira stopped to get everyone something to
eat.  "That's about it on the food, by the way," she said, distributing what remained of the ration
bars and roots, the berries having been finished off much earlier.  They ate with one hand while
digging with the other, sometimes holding the food in their teeth to allow both hands to
maneuver.  Sisko didn't even appear to be aware that he was eating anything, or that he had heard
what Kira said.   But then, none of them seemed concerned about it.  Last of the food?  And more
than a day and half's journey back to the shuttle?  Well, they'd be uncomfortable, but they'd
survive.  Nothing mattered but the digging.
     Then Sisko hit something solid.
     Even with just part of one edge showing, they could easily identify it.  It was the Ark of
an Orb.  After an excited pause, the digging resumed, now with the visible goal of unearthing the
Ark.  Finally, it was exposed enough for Sisko to lift it out.  He brushed it off carefully,
examining the engravings.  "The Orb of Miracles," he read as he climbed out of the hole, then sat
on its edge.  
     "A tenth Orb?"  Kira and Shakaar asked in unison.  Bajoran texts told of nine Orbs.  The
Orb of Miracles was not among them.
     "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could really use a miracle about now."  Setting
the Ark on the flat ground, he moved so he sat cross-legged in front of it on one edge of the dug
hole and placed one hand on each of the top front corners.  His companions nodded
encouragement, and he pushed gently.  But the Ark didn't open.  Confused, he pushed harder, but
the Ark doors wouldn't budge.  He could see the seam; he knew he had the right side.
     Someone held one of the jagged bones in front of him, and he accepted the ersatz pry bar
without looking back.   But the once sharp edges had been blunted by digging, and none of them
were thin enough to fit in the seam.   Now he did turn his head as he discarded the arm bone,
"Jake, I need something smaller."
     Jake understood immediately and hurried back to the extra bone pile.  Now, which one? 
Thinking of the width of the seam, he selected the smaller of two circular coin-shaped bones,
disrupting the Bajoran word that Shakaar had formed, and hurried back to his father.
     Sisko took the rounded bone and wedged it edgewise into the seam, then pushed back on
the outside edge.  On the second try, the Ark swung open.
     It was empty!
     For a moment, he just looked at the empty container dejectedly.  Then he stood in fury
and threw the improvised pry bar to the ground in disgust and anger. 
"Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhh!"  he growled, breathing hard from his exertion.  He turned away,
unable to look at the Ark, or his friends.  
     He was about to move to a wall and slam his fist into it when he heard Jake.  "Dad, look!" 
his son said.
     Sisko whirled and looked to where his son pointed.  The rounded piece of bone had fallen
to the ground in front of the open Ark, and it had begun to glow.  Sisko stepped closer, gazing in
amazement at the pale green, nearly white aura that surrounded the bone.  "Jake."
     Jake didn't need to hear more.  He rushed to the other end of the cave and returned
shortly, the remaining extra bones held tightly in his clawed hands, and released them all near the
other.  They all took on the same glow, in different intensities based on their distance from the
Ark.  Sisko heaved a heavy sigh.  Yet another puzzle.  But it didn't look as difficult as the ones
they had already solved.
     Still standing in the hole they had dug, Kira reached over and put one piece on top of
another.  In an instant, they fused, becoming one piece.  "How much you want to bet they only fit
together one way?"  Jake asked.
     "Don't second guess the Prophets," Sisko replied as he and the others once again began
moving pieces.  
     As the pieces fused, the glow became stronger, making it more difficult to see the outline
of the shape they were building.  It became a matter of dropping a piece into the light and seeing
if it slid off and came out again.  As one by one the pieces found their place and their pile
dwindled, the excitement grew again.  When one piece remained, everyone hesitated.  It was
already like staring into a one hundred watt bulb.  If they blinked and looked elsewhere, they saw
the negative of the image hovering in the air.   Finally, Shakaar reached over Kira's shoulder and
picked up the last piece, then dropped it into the ball of light as if it were a vending machine.   It
didn't come out again.  "Put it in the Ark, Emissary," he said quietly.
     Sisko blinked at Shakaar, then placed both hands under the ball of light and lifted
carefully.  It had substance, but not much.  Far less, it seemed, than the collection of bones had
had as separate pieces.  Reverently, he placed it inside the Ark.
     Instantly, the glow intensified into a blinding white light.  The four of them closed their
eyes and threw their arms across their faces.


     Jake was alone, in a strange place.  A place that was no place.  It wasn't a planet.  It wasn't
the station.  And it wasn't a ship.  Or at least, it didn't feel like a ship.  It was just a place.  The
floor was hard, and of a reddish tint, and seemed to stretch onward in all directions infinitely.  
There was a quiet, too.   After listening to the gush of the waterfall for days, it was suddenly,
completely quiet.  As Jake turned in place, he was startled to suddenly see someone standing
about ten meters away from him.  It took a moment for recognition to take place, but then Jake's
face lit up with a smile.  "Dad!"  Jake dashed forward and gripped his father around his
shoulders, but then stepped back when his father failed to react to the embrace.  
     "The Sisko is young,"  his father said....no, not his father, Jake realized.  It was a Prophet
using his image.
     "Where's my Dad?"  
     "The Sisko is young," he repeated.
     "'The Sisko'", Jake echoed.  "You mean my Dad.  I'm Jake.  His son."
     "The Sisko is The Sisko."  
     Confused, and feeling ill with dread, Jake stepped back another step.  "What do you
mean? Where's my Dad?  And Kira and Shakaar?"
     The image of his father tilted his head, and repeated himself again, "The Sisko is The
Sisko."

     
     Kira stared into the face of Kai Opaka, knowing that it wasn't Kai Opaka at all.  Still, on
spying her, she had inhaled an emotional breath, both hands flying to her mouth as if to hold it in. 
Her stomach flooded with Bajoran flutterbirds and her heart raced.   The image of the Kai
reached out and cupped Kira's ear with one hand.  "You've done well.  All is as it should be."
     "All?  Is the Eye of the Prophets restored?"  Kira was hopeful.  All of this, and more,
would have been worth it if it brought back the wormhole and put the Orbs back to working
order.   
     "No,"  the image admitted, taking her hand away from Kira's ear.  "It is not time."
     "Then what did we accomplish?"  She had been hoping that all that they'd been through
would restore the wormhole and the orbs.  If that hadn't been done, what was it all for?  She was
beginning to sympathize with, if not entirely agree with, Sisko's opinion of the Prophets. 
     "What you were meant to accomplish."  
     "That's not an answer."  Although she had an urge to grab the woman and persuade her to
explain, she could not assault even the image of Opaka in that manner.  She kept her distance.  
But it hurt her to think that her faith and support through this ordeal would not be rewarded.
     "Patience.  You will find your answer."  Then the image of Opaka floated away.


     The Orb room was dark when Shakaar realized he was back in front of the Orb of
Prophecy.  His brow furrowed in confusion.  The Orb was still dark, looking burned out and
useless.  As he closed the Ark, he wondered what his strange vision meant.   More meditation
was required.  He thought of what the presence of Kira, Sisko and Jake could mean, and the task
they had taken on.   Orb experiences were very odd things.  They seemed so real.  More vivid
than any dream, yet never as substantial or easy to interpret.   It could be weeks before he had any
idea what the smallest part of it meant.  Yes, meditation.  He began to step away from the Orb,
highly conscious of the quiet, his footsteps seeming to thunder in the solemnity of the room.  
Already beginning the mental exercises with which he cleared his mind, he crept out of the room. 
     In the outer hall, he paused, listening.  Was it the sudden absence of the pounding
waterfall, or did he hear something just outside the doors of the Hall of Ministries?


     Of course, it would be Jadzia.  The voice he had heard in the darkness now had the
correct face, not just in his mind, but in reality.  Or reality as the Prophets saw it.   "What was
that about?"  Sisko asked.
     The Prophet/Jadzia simply looked at him, her eyes sparkling, but her expression solemn.
     "Oh, that's helpful!"  Sisko threw his hands up in defeat.  "Was there a point to any of
this?  I'd really like to know, because I'm dog tired of the lot of you!  You want me to jump
through hoops for you, but when I really need you, where are you?  Instead of saving Jadzia, you
crawl inside your metaphysical cubby hole and expect us to just accept it.  Did our little puzzle
quest amuse you?"  He paused, but again got no response.  "I'll make you a deal.  You answer me
one question.  One little question.  I want a straight answer.  No games.  I don't want any more
puzzles or cryptic messages.  Enough already.  Once, just once, give me a real answer and maybe
I'll jump through another hoop for you.  Why did Jadzia have to die?"
     Now he stopped, and waited for her answer.
     "The Sisko is confused and angry."
     "You bet I am."  Again, he waited.   He stepped closer.  "Why did she have to die?"
     The Prophet/Jadzia's eyes welled with tears and her face expressed utter sadness.  "She
didn't."
     That wasn't the answer Sisko was expecting at all.  But it hurt.  If it were true, it meant
that they had let it happen.  Weren't they the same Prophets who transported a whole Jem 'Hadar
fleet from the wormhole back to the gamma quadrant?  Would it have been so difficult for them
to put Jadzia somewhere else when Dukat, possessed by the Pagh Wraith, had beamed onto the
station?  His own eyes misted over as he considered the Prophets' intent.   
     Or could it be that there were some things outside of their control?  Had they done their
best to guide events, only to be thwarted by their outcast comrade?  Could they regret her death
half as much as he did?
     Sisko wiped his eyes to clear them....and found himself in his quarters on the station, back
in his own bed.
     He and his clothing, suddenly his old familiar Starfleet captain's uniform, were clean and
undamaged.   What's more, he felt rested, and, though still confused, his anger toward the
Prophets was beginning to dissipate.  He sat up, swinging his booted feet over the side of the bed. 
"Computer, time."
     "The time is oh five hundred forty seven hours."
     Stepping to his own computer console, he turned it on and stared at the system date.  It
was as if he hadn't left at all.  He hadn't spent three days on Bajor, and Jadzia hadn't died three
days ago, but just yesterday.   Had it all been a dream?  Now he was even more confused than
ever.  As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he knew that what he, Jake, Kira and Shakaar
had just experienced had been real.  They had found the Orb of Miracles.  So what was the
miracle?  That he had been transported, hale and hearty, back to DS9?  What did the remains of
the Lost Clans have to do with it?  Sisko found he had come out of this experience with even
more questions that he'd had going in.  The whole experience kept playing across his mind like a
holonovel, and he still couldn't see it as a whole.  He sat at his console, aching for Jadzia's
wisdom to turn to, and stared into space.
     A noise startled him into looking up and he saw Jake come out of what used to be his
bedroom before he had moved into his own quarters, first with Nog, then completely on his own
when Nog left for the Academy.  He was steadying himself with one hand against the wall. 
"Dad?  What just happened?"
     "I don't know."  So, Jake had experienced it, and remember it, as well.  Without going
into details, they both knew what the other knew.  
     Jake eased himself to the couch and sat.  "My chronometer must be wrong.  It says ---"
     "It's not wrong, Jake."  Moving to sit with his son, he added, "It's still three days ago." 
That sounded awfully odd to say.  They sat together on the couch, each lost in his own memories
of what had happened.  "Jake-O,"  Sisko said, using his pet name for his son awkwardly, "I'm . . .
sorry . . ."
     "Sorry about what?"
     Father looked son in the eye.  "I couldn't confide in you.  I think I . . ."
     "Dad, it doesn't look like you should have,"  Jake replied.  "I still don't know what you
saw, but I do know that if you had told me, I would have connected with that, and not with the
location of the Ark."  An amused smile crossed his face, "You thought you were defying the
Prophets, and all the time you were doing exactly what they wanted you to."
     "Was I?"  Sisko realized his son was right, admitting it with a single breath laugh. 
"Nevertheless, Jake, I don't want to keep secrets from you.  If you want to hear it, I'll tell you
about my vision.  I want you to be able to trust me.  I want you to . . . "  Words failed him.  It
now
felt less important for Jake to see him as a father, than it was for Jake to see him as a human
being, frailties and all.  It was time to move their relationship to that adult level.  Completely. 
Not just part time, or when it was convenient.  Maybe this was what it had been for.  The
Prophets were steering the Emissary, in a roundabout way, into a more fulfilling relationship with
his son.  Perhaps Jake, as his son, had a destiny as well, a destiny with the Prophets . . . was the
boy being groomed to follow in his father's footsteps?  Yet another thought occurred to Sisko.  If
his time as Emissary was nearing an end, either through abdication or his own death, Jake was
his heir.  
     "I trust you now, Dad,"  Jake said, pulling his father in for a brief hug.  "I love you."
     "Love you, too,"  Sisko said, patting his son on the back.  "Look, Jake, what do you say
we take a vacation for awhile?"
     "A vacation?"  
     "Let's go see grandpa."  Feeling the need to get back to simple things, if even for awhile,
he hoped his son would agree to accompany him.  Both of their minds were cluttered with far too
many questions and DS9 was not the place to sort through them and clear their thoughts.
     "That sounds good, Dad.  I'd like that."  Jake agreed.  
     Before they could discuss it further, the door chime sounded.  "Come,"  Sisko said.
     The door slid open, revealing Major Kira standing there looking stunned, with a datapadd
held limply in one hand.  She didn't step forward until Sisko prompted her, "Major?"
     Her eyes switched focus from looking nowhere to seeing Sisko and Jake on the couch. 
She entered and plopped into the nearby chair.  "I just got a communique from Bajor," she said. 
Father and son, no, two human men, waited patiently for her to continue.  "A group of twenty-six
people appeared on the steps of the Hall of Ministers early this morning.  They reported to
Shakaar, who sent word to me that they've all been positively identified as the members of the
Lost Clans.  All present and accounted for."  She wasn't looking at them as she spoke, but
somewhere much further away again.  Now, she came back, still speaking in the stunned
whisper, "They have no memory of where they've been, or how they got to the Hall of Ministers. 
The Council is holding a formal reception in their honor tomorrow night.  The three of us have
been invited."

THE END