Strange New Worlds 2016 (27 page)

The acolyte chanted as the runes lifted off of his body and encircled the group in
a maelstrom of malevolence. “
Kosst Amojan
, we who believe offer the lives of your enemy to you; come forth and light our way
with your love.”

Kira watched the runes swirl around the isolation field in rhythm to the invocation.
She could feel evil seething in the shadows; the risks no longer mattered. She reached
for her phaser, but nothing happened. Odo and Bashir were motionless as well. They
all came to the same realization: they couldn’t move.

The acolyte smiled as he turned to look at Kira. “You’re too late.”

Abruptly, the Orb ark opened of its own volition, and dark energy ripped out of the
obsidian hourglass and into Jonathan Sisko. Flames erupted from the boy’s eyes and
mouth and engulfed the acolyte, the cult of the Pah-wraiths, Odo, Bashir, and finally
Kasidy Yates-Sisko, just as she realized in horror what her son had become. As a figure
emerged unscathed from the flames, the world around Kira Nerys took on a familiar
hue of blue, but not before a single word escaped her lips. “Dukat.”

March 3, 1959

Doctor Nia Manning smiled as she looked up from the handwritten pages of
Deep Space 9: Epilogue
. “You’ve been writing your
Star Trek
stories for a long time, Benny, your refusal to stop is what keeps you committed.”
Her patient had come a long way from the shell condemned to solitary confinement for
assaulting Doctor Wykoff. “But this is the first time you’ve gone back to a Deep Space
9 story in five years. Why now?”

Benny Russell thought about the question. He remembered Roy Ritterhouse giving him
the drawing of a space station in the
Incredible Tales
office. When he sat down at his typewriter in front of the blank page, that simple
sketch dared him to reach for more than he ever thought possible.

Now, whenever he looked at a blank page, he didn’t see its clean, white background
and crisp blue lines, but darkness—the darkness that devoured his life because he
chose his stories over love, the darkness his people endured for being born brown
in a white world, and the darkness of space. He no longer saw the points of light
that filled so many of his stories with wonder, but the empty spaces between them.
Now, he wanted to fill those spaces with his anger, his hatred, and his depression.
He wanted to be free—free of this place, free of his sadness, and free of his stories.

“Deep Space 9 was where this started,” he said. “It’s where it should end.”

Doctor Manning made some notes in her pad before continuing. She leaned forward, changing
to the warm tone of a confidante and friend. “Let’s talk about what brought this change
on.”

Russell looked at the doctor who had become his savior and friend. He had no doubts
whom she was talking about, but he found it hard to look at Doctor Manning when he
spoke again. “When Cassie told me she was marrying Willie Hawkins, I felt betrayed,
abandoned.” He remembered something he’d written a long time ago and hid a frown.
“The reality is that she’s moved on, and I’ve existed by escaping into my stories,
telling myself nothing else mattered. But it’s not enough to just exist . . . it’s
not linear.” A long moment passed as Russell reflected on his own words.

Manning finally broke the silence. She returned the handwritten pages. “You’ve done
something few writers ever accomplish, Benny. The exploits of Sisko, Kirk, Picard,
Janeway, and Archer are all compelling, thought-provoking stories in a vast universe.”
She calmly crossed her legs before speaking again. “But you’re right. It’s not linear.
It’s an obsession. You’ve been writing about the future for six years while spending
your
life
here.” It had taken so long to get him here, but she knew the answer didn’t lie in
painting over his words or in preventing him to write. “Those years are gone, Benny.
Cassie’s gone. It’s time that you put all your pain and suffering into this last story,
end
Star Trek
, and take your life back.”

She smiled at him from behind glasses that concealed the warmth of her hazel eyes.
It wasn’t the first time Russell wondered if there was more meaning in those eyes
than she dare say as she helped him find his way out of the darkness.

The
Defiant
listed to its side like a wounded beast. Explosions ripped apart the bridge. Kira’s
order was full of pain and grief. “Chief, get us out of here.”

O’Brien turned, wisps of smoke rising off the charred flesh of his face. “Her
pagh
is strong. She will serve us well.”

The captain looked around the bridge.
Defiant
’s crew was all burned badly, yet smiling at her. Prophets? It didn’t feel like an
Orb experience. This felt . . . real.

“Hello, Nerys.” The voice thundered, yet it was soft, like a caress. It disgusted
her. Turning toward the command chair, the image of Odo being engulfed in flames tormented
her. Before she even realized it, her phaser was pointed at Dukat.

The Cardassian seemed amused. “Come now, Nerys, you know such toys are meaningless
here.”

Kira gripped the phaser as if it was the last remnant of her sanity, the only way
for her to hold back the tears. “What is this?”

“This?” Dukat rose from the center seat, tendrils of flame emanating from his eyes.
“This is the final chapter. This is an inevitability, and I have been chosen as its”—Dukat
paused, smiling as he stood a lover’s distance from Kira—“Emissary.”

The woman who had spent a lifetime resisting stood her ground, refusing to show weakness
before this devil, who had already taken so much from her and Bajor. “The Prophets
will stop you.”

The flames from his eyes seemed to intensify as he stood there watching her, casting
an unnatural illumination upon the ridges that adorned his face and neck, their heat
emanating utter evil. Dukat laughed as he walked toward the false
Defiant
’s viewscreen.

The bridge crew Pah-wraiths stood aside with a reverence that shocked Kira. The plasma
storms filled the electronic display, and, at its center, Deep Space 9 sat untouched.

The former gul smiled while watching the plasma storms surrounding Deep Space 9 on
the display. “Nerys, what are the three keys to enlightenment?”

“You can’t possibly know.” It nauseated Kira to hear Bajoran scripture come from this
butcher of millions; he knew nothing of charity, humility, and faith.

Dukat stared, transfixed by the streams of plasma as they danced wildly around the
lone space station. “On the contrary, my communion with the Pah-wraiths has enlightened
me.” He raised his hand in front of the viewer, gesturing as if he were following
a concerto. As he did so, the strands of energy followed his tempo. Suddenly, Dukat
closed his hand into a fist, and plasma streams tore into Deep Space 9, shattering
the space station as if it were a fragile toy.

The once prefect of Bajor smiled. “It’s a vision that I’m going to share with the
universe.” Suddenly Dukat was behind her, whispering into her ear. “However, the fate
of Bajor is in your hands, as it was always meant to be.”

“Captain?” Nog resisted the urge to wave his hand in front of his superior officer’s
face.

Dax decided to use a tricorder instead. “Kira, can you hear us?”

Startled by the close proximity of the tricorder, Kira stepped back. She surveyed
her surroundings and realized that she was on the real
Defiant
. “Report.”

O’Brien, without looking away from the busy engineering station, said, “Ablative armor
is gone, life-support on decks three and four has failed. Emergency force fields are
holding.” Finally, the chief turned around to make sure his point was made. “She’s
holding together, but not by much. sir.”

Having lobes like his, Nog had learned to listen to everything everyone said, especially
when they were quiet. “Sir, our scans showed some kind of massive explosion, and then
the platforms stopped firing as soon as we beamed you aboard. What happened down there?”

Ezri could feel Jadzia’s bravado pushing to the surface as she feigned a smile. “It
seems like the Prophets were charitable today.”

Garak stood to the side, watching everyone. “That remains to be seen,” he said. Much
like a Cardassian trial, he feared he’d known the outcome of this endeavor from the
moment Captain Kira had contacted him two days ago. The fact that any of the away
team had made it back from the asteroid death trap was sheer luck—or something more
sinister. “Might I inquire as to the status of the constable, the doctor, and the
Siskos?”

Kira sat in the command chair, pushing away the images of the all-consuming flames
that threatened to turn her heart to ashes. She could feel Dukat’s whispers preying
upon her soul. “We’ve got to get back to DS9.”

March 4, 1959

Doctor Wykoff handed the report back to his colleague, not bothering to conceal the
skepticism in his voice. “I don’t believe it.”

Doctor Manning smiled as she walked down the hallway beside the Queens Borough Mental
Institution’s new chief of staff. His premature gray revealed what he’d gone through
for the position. “Nevertheless, Benny is completing his last Sisko story.”

Doctor Wykoff stopped just short of entering the recreation room; it was a common
tactic among the staff to allow them to see without being seen. Searching the occupied
room, he spotted a lone figure sitting by the window, writing in the midmorning sun.
“He still has very little voluntary interaction with anyone. It concerns me he’s become
so introverted since he’s been here.”

“It’s not a psychosis, it’s a choice.” Doctor Manning watched Russell as he wrote.
Even in the confines of this place it was clear to her the former author was in his
element. She wondered what stories he would’ve written if he were at home or with
his friends at the
Incredible Tales
magazine. “Besides, with his history, I can’t say I blame him.”

Wykoff stopped watching Russell and turned to Doctor Manning. After the solitary confinement,
he had wanted to ship Russell off to prison for assaulting him. But it was Doctor
Manning that came in and convinced him that the path to Benny Russell’s sanity wasn’t
to cast him out, but to see this through.