Uneasy Peace. Worlds In Flux. Tests Of Faith.

The Final Episode Was Only The Beginning.

The Dominion War is over...or is it? Three months after the Allied victory against the invaders from the Gamma Quadrant, a surprise attack awakens the fear of renewed hostilities. At the same time, a senseless murder sets a space station commander on a path that will test the limits of her faith...while a strange discovery within the plasma storms of the Badlands propels an old soldier toward a rendezvous with destiny. Elsewhere, amidst the ruins of an ancient civilization, a young man is about to embark on a dangerous quest to fill the hole in his life -- one left by the loss of his father.

So begins the unprecedented, authorized continuation of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine®, springing from the seven-year television odyssey of Captain Benjamin Sisko and his crew aboard a Federation starbase at the edge of the final frontier. Following the serial format and evolving character arcs that were the hallmarks of the TV series, the new Deep Space Nine novels pick up where the show left off, daring to imagine what happened after the final episode.

Now the first five tales of that critically acclaimed storyline are collected in one massive volume. Originally published as the two-part Avatar, Abyss, Demons of Air and Darkness, and the novella "Horn and Ivory," Twist of Faith revisits the aftermath of the Dominion War, the pivotal planet Bajor, its mysterious connection to the timeless Prophets of the wormhole, as well as the familiar faces, new friends, and uncertain allies whose fates intertwine at the crossroads of the galaxy. With an introduction by New York Times bestselling author David R. George III (Mission: Gamma -- Twilight; The Lost Era: Serpents Among the Ruins; the Crucible trilogy), Twist of Faith takes the Deep Space Nine saga to a new level...exploring what was left behind, and what awaits beyond.

About the Author

S. D. Perry is a novelist living in Portland, Oregon.  She is currently lives with her husband, Myk, her two children Cyrus and Myk Jr, and their two dogs. She mostly writes tie-in novels based on works in the fantasy/science-fiction/horror genre, including Resident Evil, Star Trek, Aliens and Predator. She has also written a handful of short stories and movie novelizations. Her favorite Star Trek series is the original series, with her favorite characters being "The Big Three" - Kirk, Spock and McCoy.

Keith R.A. DeCandido was born and raised in New York City to a family of librarians. He has written over two dozen novels, as well as short stories, nonfiction, eBooks, and comic books, most of them in various media universes, among them Star Trek, World of Warcraft, Starcraft, Marvel Comics, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Serenity, Resident Evil, Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda, Farscape, Xena, and Doctor Who. His original novel Dragon Precinct was published in 2004, and he's also edited several anthologies, among them the award-nominated Imaginings and two Star Trek anthologies. Keith is also a musician, having played percussion for the bands the Don't Quit Your Day Job Players, the Boogie Knights, and the Randy Bandits, as well as several solo acts. In what he laughingly calls his spare time, Keith follows the New York Yankees and practices kenshikai karate. He still lives in New York City with his girlfriend and two insane cats.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Prologue

At night, when the tunnels of B'hala were empty, dust swept through on tireless winds. The night breezes were relentless in their irregular keening, the soft, lonely sounds trailing over heaps of dry and crumbling soil, lingering in the corners and dark spaces of the long lost city. Like the gentle cries of shades and spirits lamenting the daily disturbances of their tomb.

Sometimes, particularly at night when he couldn't sleep, Jacob Isaac Sisko thought he might like to write about those ancient spirits -- a short piece of fiction, or even a poem -- but those instances were few and far between. For the first time in years he had put aside his writing padd, and for the time being, at least, he didn't miss it much. Besides, by the end of each day, he was usually too exhausted to do more than eat, pull off his boots, and crawl into his cot, the sheets heavy with dust in spite of the air recycler. His sleep was deep and peaceful, and if he dreamed, he didn't remember upon waking.

Last night, though...

He wasn't quite ready to think about that; he concentrated instead on the small patch of dry and faded earth beneath his fingers, on the feel of the brush in his hand as he carefully dusted. Behind him, Prylar Eivos droned on about some of the recent discoveries in the southernmost section of the dig, his ponderous voice seeming to draw the very life out of the tunnel's cool, recycled air. Eivos was a nice enough man, but probably the most dreadfully dry of all the student overseers; the aging monk seemed to be perfectly happy with the sound of his own voice, regardless of whether or not the content was relevant to anything. Jake tuned in for a moment, still brushing at what would almost certainly turn out to be yet another pottery shard.

"...but there was one figurine among the rest that was carved out of jevonite, which is nothing short of extraordinary," the prylar said, his tone suggesting that he'd devoted great thought to the matter. "As you know, it has always been believed that jevonite could be found only on Cardassia..."

Jake tuned out again, paying just enough attention to know when to nod respectfully. From farther down the tunnel he could hear the soft hum of the solids detectors and the repetitive chunk of manually worked picks and shovels. They were pleasant sounds, a bright counterpart to the nights of ghostly crying from ancestors not his own....

He was feeling a bit on the poetic side lately, wasn't he? It was strange, unearthing fragments from an ancient culture, and stranger still that the culture wasn't even his --

• -- Dad's, though, in a way, and in the dream -- *

He shut that thought down before it could get any further, afraid of the concomitant feelings, afraid of what he might uncover. And he realized that, beneath the soft bristles of his brush, a sliver of color had appeared, a dull red against the lighter soil.

Jake waited for a break in Prylar Eivos's oratory.

"...but then, quantum-dating of the jevonite artifacts unearthed at the site proves indisputably that they actually predate the First Hibetian civilization," the monk stated firmly, and took a deep breath.

"I think I've found it," Jake said quickly.

The prylar smiled, stepping forward and crouching, using the tunnel wall as a support. He pulled his own brush from a fold in his robes and whisked the remaining soil from around the piece with practiced ease. As Jake suspected, it was another broken clay shard. For every intact relic that was uncovered at B'hala, there seemed to be about a billion broken ones.

And they all have to be catalogued.

"Let's see what we have here...ah, very good, Jake!" The prylar stepped back, reaching for one of the innumerable trays on the nearby cart. "And how gratifying -- it's kejelious, one of the most important materials used during the Sh'dama Age. Have I ever told you about kejelious? I don't know if anyone truly appreciates how versatile it can be, when the liquid ratios are altered..."

Jake nodded, smiling, seeing no point in reminding the monk that he'd already heard all about the virtues of the stuff, twice. Eivos really was a nice old guy, and seemed to be genuinely excited about the work -- though for the first time in all his weeks at B'hala Jake found himself feeling disappointed, gazing at the slender fragment as the monk eased it from the ground.

Maybe because it's not what you came here to find, his mind whispered, and it was another thought that he pushed away -- but not so quickly as he might have only a few days before. Things were changing whether he liked it or not, and though he knew it was inevitable, had known for some weeks, a part of him was still fighting to avoid the next step.

Acceptance.

When the prylar suggested that they break for a meal, Jake was relieved. He hurried away, suddenly eager to be out of the tunnels where the dead were dust and wind, where his father was a ghost that could only be longed for.

It was late in the afternoon before he thought of it again.

The dream, Jake. Last night.

He felt a tingle at the back of his neck, a subtle shiver of remembered dream-reality -- something about the wormhole...?

Jake sighed, still not sure he wanted to remember. Not sure he was ready, in spite of the fact that he'd been having trouble concentrating for the last several days, really. He was alone in one of the smaller catalog rooms, a constant, soft drone of activity filtering in through several openings that had once been windows; he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

As far down as they were, second level up from the tunnels, it was always pleasantly cool, and although a lot of the volunteers preferred to work in the larger, climate-controlled areas, he liked the fresh air. Usually it kept him alert, but he'd been daydreaming since lunch. Well, since breakfast, technically, although working with Prylar Eivos would make an android's mind wander....

Jake opened his eyes and returned his attention to the shard he'd been handling, one of several from the area he thought of as the Kitchens, over at the northeast end of the partially unearthed city. Number, 1601; Designation, C/Utensil. The familiar numbers and keys of the database portable flew; he hardly had to look at the container tag, knowing from the curve and distinctive blue color that it was another one of the goblet sets. He'd catalogued at least thirty of them in the last few days, all from the same coordinates. Standard estimation comments from Prylar Krish, noted date of extraction...

...and had he been in the wormhole with his father? It seemed so distant, but he thought that the dream had been about him and Dad, together, flying...

Jake set the piece of clay aside, knowing that he had to stop dancing away from the truth of things. Away from the gentle physical and mental repetition that his time at B'hala had been about, and toward why he had come.

To accept the fact that I have to go on without him.

The hesitant thought, so simply worded on the page in his mind's eye, struck him as a little trite -- but no less true or powerful for that. When no paralyzing sorrow came, he allowed the thought again, accepting the heaviness in his throat and chest. For now, at least, he had to make a life for himself.

It hurt, but there was also a forced quality to it. Or, not forced, but...deliberate. He knew what had to happen, what he was supposed to do, but he didn't feel it yet.

But Dax said that's normal, didn't she? That it could be a gradual thing, or all at once. Ezri had been very straightforward about what he might experience, telling him not to underestimate or belittle his loss, and to keep his expectations to a minimum. He'd talked to her a few times, before and after leaving the station, carefully skirting any real conversation about his father. When he'd told her about his intention to join the B'hala excavation, she'd suggested that not thinking for a while might be exactly what he needed; in the almost nine weeks since he'd started, Jake had come to agree wholeheartedly.

He'd been invited just about everywhere on Bajor after his father's disappearance. Like Kas, Jake had politely turned down each hopeful request -- to speak at schools, to lead prayer groups, to extend blessings over everything from local harvest festivals to the openings of new business ventures. Kasidy had received twice as many offers; he was the Emissary's son, but Kasidy was carrying the Emissary's unborn child, a somehow more miraculous connection. They'd shared a quiet laugh about it the last time they'd talked, some small joke that was more affectionate than funny. Jake loved her for that, and had been glad to see how well she looked. Kasidy had the celebrated pregnancy glow about her, even if her eyes were a little sad.

You're still dancing, Jake, avoiding the inevitable --

Jake scowled at his inner voice. If it was inevitable, why rush? It wasn't like he was on a schedule.

Although he hadn't realized it at the time, getting away from the station had been the best thing he could've done. The initial invitation to visit B'hala had been extended by a branch of the Order of the Temple, the prylars who primarily worked the dig, and had been offered as a chance to experience Bajoran history firsthand. Being the Emissary's son surely had plenty to do with it, but Jake appreciated the less-obvious wording. He knew that B'hala had been a special place for his father. And the fact of it was, the station had been too empty without Dad, and the looks of sympathy -- or worse, the well-meant platitudes from the Bajoran segment, about the Emissary's great calling -- had only served to remind Jake of just how much he missed his father. Kas had been great, and his friends, especially Ezri and Nog, but B'hala had been what he needed. He'd heard about the volunteer program -- usually open only to religious initiates -- on the second night of what had started as a four...