Kira Nerys stared at the galaxy.
She had to look up to see it in its entirety, its bright face filling half the sky. She’d seen images of the galaxy before, simulations and holos taken from deep-space probes launched centuries ago by any number of worlds. But nothing prepared her for the sight before her now.
The galaxy stared back down at her, a still and silent maelstrom that seemed to scrutinize her as she stood beneath it, and she knew that it was no simulation. She was as far from home as she’d ever been, and might ever be, and under the unblinking eye of the immense double spiral, Kira Nerys felt very, very small.
She was only partly aware of her surroundings: the smooth circular floor beneath her feet, the central console with its brown-and-blue color scheme and alien markings that registered dimly as matching the known designs of the Iconians.
And no walls. Only sky. She stood in a room without shadows, lit by a hundred billion suns.
Must be a forcefield, but—
“Ah, there you are.”
She felt the voice more than heard it, as if it came from within her. Kira wanted to turn around to respond, but found herself transfixed by the starscape.
A finger seemed to appear from nowhere and point at a spot in the lower left quadrant of the vista spread out before Kira. The voice said, “It’s here.”
Kira finally tore her gaze away from the view and followed the finger back up the hand and arm it was connected to, and finally to the body. The figure was huge, though definitely bipedal and apparently humanoid, standing at well over two and a half meters tall, dwarfing even the immense Hirogen hunter that she and Taran’atar had faced in the Delta Quadrant. He—the voice sounded male, at least—wore a maroon cloak with a hood that obscured his features.
“Wh—what?”
“The world you come from is here. I believe you refer to it as Bajor.”
“Who are you?”
The figure hesitated. “You might say I’m an emissary of the people who built this outpost, but that might have unfortunate connotations for you. Suffice it to say that I am the custodian of this place.”
“You’re an Iconian?”
There was a movement inside the cloak that Kira supposed could have been a nod. “You’ll be pleased to know that I was able to cure you of that unfortunate energy.”
Energy? It took Kira a moment to realize that he was referring to the theta-radiation poisoning. She had been on that arid desert of a planet in the Delta Quadrant, theta radiation eating away at her, when the gateway beckoned. Her tricorder had told her that the radiation levels were fatal….
Of course, the rational part of her brain said as she looked down and saw that she no longer wore the ancient clothing of Bajor’s past (did I ever?) but was instead in her sand-soiled Militia uniform.
It was some kind of dream, she thought, that’s all. Or maybe a pagh’tem’far. That would certainly explain—
She cut the thought short as she felt a mild stiffness in her left arm. Looking down, she saw the badly healed wound she’d received the day they drove the Lerrit Army out of the capital city. “How did—how did this get here?” She pointed to the wound.
The hood tilted a little to one side. “Presumably you received it at an earlier date.” “You’re a big help,” she muttered.
“I assume that you wish to take the gift that has been given to you and then go home?”
Kira almost asked the figure what he meant by that. But duty took over. Like Torrna Antosso, she had a role to play, a duty to perform, and a planet to defend—regardless of what obstacles had been placed in her path.
“Actually, I need to return to Europa Nova. I made a promise that I would do everything I could—”
Before she could finish the sentence, the custodian drifted— walk was too clumsy a word to describe how he moved—over to the center console.
“Ah, I see. One of our hezlat gateways is in orbit of that planet,” he said after touching one of the triangular controls.
“Hezlat?” Kira asked as she approached. Two small holographic displays hovered on either side of the blue globe atop the console, each showing a star system. The sizes and magnitudes of the two stars matched those of Europa Nova’s star and the star where they’d found the tanker in the Delta Quadrant.
“Many different types of gateways were constructed over time,” the custodian said, “some large and inelegant, some small and functional, others that could be held in the palm of one’s hand. The hezlat s were among the first, and also among the largest. Let’s see, this one is stable—it links System X27 L with System J55 Q.”
The custodian seemed to be just staring at the display, so Kira helped him along. “Someone decided to dump theta radiation into that—that hezlat of yours. We had to evacuate everyone from the planet on the other side before the radiation levels became fatal.”
“Yes….I see that now. But there is something blocking part of the gateway.”
Thank the Prophets, the Euphrates is still there. “Yes, that’s one of our vessels. That’s how we travel, by ship—and I used mine to block the radiation from coming through and—”
“I understand, Colonel. I observe your ships traversing the galaxy all the time from here. It is not a pastime shared by all my people.”
“There are more of you, then?” “Yes. Some of them are dealing with this crisis now. I have faith in the Sentries.”
Kira had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t want to get off topic. “What about Europa Nova?”
“Hm?”
“System—” She peered at the console screen, but couldn’t read it.
“X2-whatever,” she said. Finally, she pointed at the holographic display. “That one!”
“Oh, yes. I am searching now. Ah, there we are. System O22 T has a star that will suffice for the purpose.”
A third star-system image appeared in the holographic display. From the brightness and magnitude, it had an O-type star.
“I can reprogram this particuar hezlat gateway to transport the matter that is emitting the energy on both sides into the star in System O22 T. The star there will render the energy inert.” He turned to Kira.
“I will also remove the object blocking the gateway. Would you like it in System O22 T, System X27 L, or System J55 Q?”
“Uh, the second one,” Kira said. “Is the place where you’re sending the waste uninhabited?”
“Of course,” the custodian said as if the answer were self-evident. Kira had no such assurances, though. After all, according to most of the legends, the Iconians were conquerors.
The custodian made some adjustments on the panel. “I assume by the state you arrived in that your species is vulnerable to this type of energy.”
Assuming that he meant theta radiation, Kira said, “Yes, very vulnerable.”
“In that case, you must be careful. The gateway can remove the matter, but some of the energy will remain around that planet you were concerned with. You say it was evacuated?”
Kira nodded.
“Repopulating it will be a challenge.”
“Like I said—I made a promise.”
Again, the custodian made a gesture that might have been interpreted as a nod, then said, “It is time for you to leave.” The Iconian touched a series of triangular panels. A blue light shot out from the globe and then a gateway opened near the edge of the floor. Through it, Kira could see the bustle of ops, with Dax giving orders to Sergeant Gan.
She looked at her host. “We thought there was a natural phenomenon preventing your gateways from functioning in the space around my planet,” Kira said. “That isn’t completely true, is it?”
“No,” the Iconian confirmed. “But we respect the beings who watch your worlds. And we long ago promised never to interfere with them.”
“Worlds….?”Kira asked.
“Farewell, Colonel.”
A million questions on her lips, it took a conscious effort to turn toward the gateway. Taking a deep breath, Kira walked around the console.
Before stepping into the gateway, she took one last look at the immense galaxy above her.
She once again found the spot where the custodian had indicated that Bajor was. From there she traced an imaginary line to the region she knew was the Delta Quadrant, and wondered whether or not Taran’atar had survived his battle with the Hirogen. Then her eyes drifted to the Gamma Quadrant, to the expanse that contained the Dominion, and the Founders’ world.
You don’t look so far away from here, Odo.
The custodian waited patiently while she took it all in, and eventually she turned away from the sprawling mass of stars.
Enough self-indulgence. It’s past time I went back to work.
But as she approached the gateway, it seemed the custodian had one more thing to tell her. “One of the things that doomed the Iconian Empire, Colonel, was that the gateway technology meant that we could no longer travel. We lost sight of the journey in our desire to achieve our destination. Don’t make that mistake.”
Kira smiled at the cloaked figure. “I won’t. And thank you.”
Then she stepped through the gateway, knowing full well what lay beyond.