end, Commander Gomez chose for you. ”
“Yes. And because of her and Nog, DS9 and Bajor are safe.”
“No, they didn’t do it on their own. Nog and Gomez gave them information. Then they had a choice: trust us and shut down the device, or go it on their own even knowing they’d destroy us. They chose life for us, and for you. Let’s hope they chose the same for themselves.” Gold eyed him closely. “You have something else you want to say?”
“Yes.” Soloman felt an uncharacteristic rush of heat up his neck and into his face. He forced himself not to look away. “I lied. I have never lied, and for that I am truly sorry. You would be within your rights to transfer me off your vessel, or insist upon my return to Bynaus.”
“Yes, I would.” Gold frowned. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But you’re far more valuable to me, and yourself, if you stay. On one condition, however: You go to counseling either on a starbase, say for a few months, or perhaps with me, or Dr. Lense, since you seem comfortable with her. We’ll have to ask her if she feels the same when she comes back. Anyway—” Gold’s face softened. “—we have time.”
“Yes,” said Soloman. “There is that.”
Kira saw Sonya Gomez well before Gomez spotted her. Gomez was standing in profile, looking out at the stars and the wormhole winking into view with its myriad rainbow colors. Then Kira noticed that Gomez had chosen to watch from just outside the chapel where they’d kept the Orb of Prophecy and Change before that Orb had been returned to take its rightful place on Bajor with all the others. Some irony there, probably. Kira had read Gomez’s report and talked with Captain Gold. So she knew about Kieran Duffy: a hard thing to have someone about whom you cared so much be close enough to touch—and lose him again.
Like seeing that mirror universe version of Bareil after my Bareil died in my arms. Like Odo…I know what this is like.
“Captain,” said Gomez, reflexively coming to attention, then relaxing as Kira waved her down. “I was just watching the wormhole before we ship out. We need to get back to Earth, return Caitano’s and Deverick’s bodies to their families. I just wanted a moment, and this—this a good place.”
“Yes, it is,” said Kira. “Sometimes I take it for granted. Then I think back to the time all the Orbs went dark and it went away, and then I remember to be thankful.” She hesitated, then said, “I read your report. I talked to Captain Gold.”
Gomez nodded. She returned her gaze to the wormhole and the stars beyond. “Weird to think about that other universe. Somewhere, out there, people I’ve cared about are alive.” Gomez looked at her. “Do you ever wish you could go back? Do things over?”
“You mean, do I wish I’d never let the genie out of the box, never released the Ohalu book, never joined the Resistance?” Never fallen in love with a man I may never see again? “No. I think it’s normal to wish you could redo the past. But then it wouldn’t be my past. I’m afraid I don’t have enough imagination to consider choices I’d never have made in the first place.” Kira paused, then said, “What about you? Do you have regrets?”
Gomez turned, and Kira would remember the look on her face—full of remorse and pain and regret—for a very long while to come.
“All the time,” said Gomez. “All the time.”
It was time. A clear sky and bright sun splashing gouts of warmth. A good day. One of his finest hours.
Gul Elim Garak stood on a podium, watching as members of the Bajor Assembly and those of his own government finished with the reading of the treaty. (These officials included Legate Rugal, a ruthless politician not above assassinating a Bajoran or two to clear his way. Garak was quite fond of the man, and they both shared a passion for rokassa juice—calmed the nerves.) The Assembly members were dressed in finely colored robes, each color reflecting
“Yes. And because of her and Nog, DS9 and Bajor are safe.”
“No, they didn’t do it on their own. Nog and Gomez gave them information. Then they had a choice: trust us and shut down the device, or go it on their own even knowing they’d destroy us. They chose life for us, and for you. Let’s hope they chose the same for themselves.” Gold eyed him closely. “You have something else you want to say?”
“Yes.” Soloman felt an uncharacteristic rush of heat up his neck and into his face. He forced himself not to look away. “I lied. I have never lied, and for that I am truly sorry. You would be within your rights to transfer me off your vessel, or insist upon my return to Bynaus.”
“Yes, I would.” Gold frowned. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But you’re far more valuable to me, and yourself, if you stay. On one condition, however: You go to counseling either on a starbase, say for a few months, or perhaps with me, or Dr. Lense, since you seem comfortable with her. We’ll have to ask her if she feels the same when she comes back. Anyway—” Gold’s face softened. “—we have time.”
“Yes,” said Soloman. “There is that.”
Kira saw Sonya Gomez well before Gomez spotted her. Gomez was standing in profile, looking out at the stars and the wormhole winking into view with its myriad rainbow colors. Then Kira noticed that Gomez had chosen to watch from just outside the chapel where they’d kept the Orb of Prophecy and Change before that Orb had been returned to take its rightful place on Bajor with all the others. Some irony there, probably. Kira had read Gomez’s report and talked with Captain Gold. So she knew about Kieran Duffy: a hard thing to have someone about whom you cared so much be close enough to touch—and lose him again.
Like seeing that mirror universe version of Bareil after my Bareil died in my arms. Like Odo…I know what this is like.
“Captain,” said Gomez, reflexively coming to attention, then relaxing as Kira waved her down. “I was just watching the wormhole before we ship out. We need to get back to Earth, return Caitano’s and Deverick’s bodies to their families. I just wanted a moment, and this—this a good place.”
“Yes, it is,” said Kira. “Sometimes I take it for granted. Then I think back to the time all the Orbs went dark and it went away, and then I remember to be thankful.” She hesitated, then said, “I read your report. I talked to Captain Gold.”
Gomez nodded. She returned her gaze to the wormhole and the stars beyond. “Weird to think about that other universe. Somewhere, out there, people I’ve cared about are alive.” Gomez looked at her. “Do you ever wish you could go back? Do things over?”
“You mean, do I wish I’d never let the genie out of the box, never released the Ohalu book, never joined the Resistance?” Never fallen in love with a man I may never see again? “No. I think it’s normal to wish you could redo the past. But then it wouldn’t be my past. I’m afraid I don’t have enough imagination to consider choices I’d never have made in the first place.” Kira paused, then said, “What about you? Do you have regrets?”
Gomez turned, and Kira would remember the look on her face—full of remorse and pain and regret—for a very long while to come.
“All the time,” said Gomez. “All the time.”
It was time. A clear sky and bright sun splashing gouts of warmth. A good day. One of his finest hours.
Gul Elim Garak stood on a podium, watching as members of the Bajor Assembly and those of his own government finished with the reading of the treaty. (These officials included Legate Rugal, a ruthless politician not above assassinating a Bajoran or two to clear his way. Garak was quite fond of the man, and they both shared a passion for rokassa juice—calmed the nerves.) The Assembly members were dressed in finely colored robes, each color reflecting
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