Creek Johnson and Nance Hurt
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Disclaimer: We are but fleas on the elephants' posterior that is Paramount. No infringement on their rights is intended. We hope none is taken.
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On the plains of the Northern Continent, in the shadow of the Shaving Mountains, in theCapital City, the days business was drawing to an end. Though it was only late afternoon, shops began to close for the evening and the people of the Capital began to wind their way home. It was the evening of the Lunar Convergence, a time for celebration. In the center of the Capital, high above the roofs of the surrounding buildings, was the Kai's Palace and those eager partygoers who cared to glance up would have noticed lights burning brightly on the top floor. Those who had bothered to take their minds away from the evening's festivities may have idly speculated what form of amusement the Kai and the monks of his order had planned for the evening, but it was only idle speculation at best, for who had time to think of the spiritual world on a night such as this? The smell of fresh cooked food rose temptingly from kiosks and the sound of music from the myriad street festivals called as people began to gather and to celebrate.
Celebration was the last thing on the mind of the monks who inhabited the Kai's palace. The temple was packed with members of the order, and despite the windows being thrown wide open, the smell of incense overpowered the tempting aroma of food – the sound of chanting drowning out the strains of popular music that floated up on the evening breeze.
On the top floor, in the center of the Palace, in the center of the Library, I-Ko Nye stood, his eyes trained on the heavens. Through the stained glass dome, he could just make out the five moons of Bajor as they moved slowly into perfect alignment – merely pale shadows against the still blue late afternoon sky.
He lifted his hands in supplication.
"Until the heavens are in harmonious agreement," he said. "The struggle shall continue."
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"I hope the Colonel is enjoying the Lunar Convergence," remarked Vonda Lek breaking the silence that shrouded Ops. "I know I'm not." "I understand the cabin she's staying at is right in the thick of things," commented Nog leaning against the table and resting his chin in his hand, his eyes never leaving the display. "The view must be spectacular."
"Some people have all the luck," agreed Bryan Landis. "I'd give anything to be in her shoes at this moment."
The assembled officers heaved a collective sigh and lapsed once more into silence.
"What the hell…." shouted Landis as alarms suddenly sprang to life at every station in Ops. "Report!"
"We're experiencing some sort of power drain," replied Vonda her hands flying across the controls. "It's affecting every system throughout the Station."
"It looks as though it's coming from the core," confirmed Nog. "But I can't tell where."
"Could it be an overload?" asked Landis.
"Negative," replied Vonda and Nog in unison.
"The core is stable," continued the Bajoran engineer. "It's just losing power."
"I can reroute some of the auxiliary systems," volunteered Nog. "But at this rate, there's no telling how long that will last."
"The power drain is massive," agreed Vonda. "We'll be lucky to keep life support operational for more than a few hours."
Wonderful, thought Landis. "Red Alert!" he ordered. "I want every available engineering team report to the core immediately." Hopefully, he thought a few hours is all we'll need.
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In a place that is neither light nor shadow, in a land that is neither of dreams nor of dreaming, two shadowy figures are locked in an endless struggle. Mikor Dukat opened his eyes and realized with startled certainty that he was standing in a place of mists and shadows. Gone was the dark room on the Station. Gone were the altar and robed men with weapons. Gone were his fellow prisoners and the woman who held them captive. Gone was the child.
He took a deep breath and realized he was able to once again breathe easily. He quickly reached his arm behind him and groped for the open wound only to find there was no pain. He looked in disbelief at his hands and found them free of blood.
Oh wonderful, he thought, I'm dead.
In the distance he could just make out the movement of two figures. He called out to them. Voices echoed back from the mists. Voices filled with laughter, voices filled with love, voices raised in anger, voices from the depth of despair, voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Above them all he could hear the gasps of the two figures in the distance.
I'm not only dead, he thought, but I'm stuck in this stupid dream.
He called out again, but no sound issued from his lips. Looking about him for some indication of what he was expected to do now, he started to run in the direction of the two figures in the distance. He knew from his dreams that it was futile, but he had no idea what else to do.
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In a place that is neither light nor shadow, in a land that is neither of dreams nor of dreaming, two shadowy figures are locked in an endless struggle. Jake Sisko opened his eyes and realized with startled certainty that he was standing in a place of mists and shadows. Gone was the passage in the Fire Caves. Gone were the altar and Tobin Io. Gone were Odo and Kira. Gone were Captian Dhek and her men.
He took a deep breath and realized he was able to once again breathe easily. He quickly examined his arm and stared in disbelief to realize there was no open wound nor was there any pain. He looked at his hands and found them free of blood.
He vaguely remembered the fire that had filled the caves and realized with absolute certainty that he must be dead.
In the distance he could just make out the movement of two figures. He called out to them. Voices echoed back from the mists. Voices filled with laughter, voices filled with love, voices raised in anger, voices from the depth of despair, voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Above them all he could hear the gasps of the two figures in the distance.
I'm not only dead, he thought, but I remember this landscape. This is my dream.
He called out again, but no sound issued from his lips. Looking about him for some indication of what he was expected to do now, he started to run in the direction of the two figures in the distance. He knew from his dreams that it was futile, but he had no idea what else to do.
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He could feel the great grinding wheels of the universe surround him and in his minds eye he could feel the rush of displaced air as each celestial object swung in its accelerated orbit. I-Ko Nye closed his eyes and raised his hands higher.
"The warriors in the shadows will dance the dance of eternal conflict," he said.
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The voices pressed closer to him as though the mists were made of living memory and yet he continued to run, his pulse pounding in his ears, his breath coming in ragged gasps. No matter how hard he ran the figures remained always in the distance. Eventually he could run no more. Mikor slowed his pace to a walk and then stopped, bending double, his hand resting on his knees as he struggled to regain his breath.
How stupid is this, he thought. I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the rest of eternity chasing after shadows. He stood upright his chest still heaving.
Taking a deep breath, he threw his arms open wide in resignation.
Before him, the mists parted, revealing not the figures in the shadows, but a small stone pillar and on the pillar lay a weapon. It was about a two meters in length with sharpened blades at either end. Now, that looks real enough, he thought, stepping forward half expecting it to be an apparition. He could feel the coolness of the metal as his hand touched the shaft and was relieved to find it solid beneath his fingers.
After a moment's hesitation, he grasped the shaft firmly in his grip and lifted the weapon marveling at the perfect balance of it and was instantly aware he was no longer alone. A hand came to rest upon his shoulder; the touch of which was instantly reassuring.
"Father?" he asked.
"Son."
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The voices pressed closer to him as though the mists were made of living memory and yet he continued to run, his pulse pounding in his ears, his breath coming in ragged gasps. No matter how hard he ran the figures remained always in the distance. Eventually he could run no more. Jake slowed his pace to a walk and then stopped, bending double, his hand resting on his knees as he struggled to regain his breath.
Now this is ridiculous, he thought. What's the point in running? He stood upright his chest still heaving.
Taking a deep breath, he threw his arms open wide in resignation.
Before him, the mists parted, revealing not the figures in the shadows, but a small stone pillar and on the pillar lay a weapon. It was about a two meters in length with sharpened blades at either end. Now, that looks real enough, he thought, stepping forward half expecting it to be an apparition. He could feel the coolness of the metal as his hand touched the shaft and was relieved to find it solid beneath his fingers.
After a moment's hesitation, he grasped the shaft firmly in his grip and lifted the weapon marveling at the perfect balance of it and was instantly aware he was no longer alone. A hand came to rest upon his shoulder; the touch of which was instantly reassuring.
"Dad?" he asked.
"Hello, Jake-o."
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He had never in all his years been so keenly aware of the passage of time. He could feel each second passing and felt the growing weight of it press down upon his body. I-ko Nye was not a young man but with each second that passed he felt older and more world-weary. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps it would be best if he were just to allow this to end? He knew the answer as soon as the thought formed in his mind. Lifting his hands higher, he began the next line, his voice shaking with fatigue.
"Only then must the child of darkness and the child of light complete the circle."
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Mikor turned and faced the man he had sought for so long, not sure he could trust what his eyes would reveal, not sure he could trust anything that transpired in this place. "Father?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. "Is that you?"
"Mikor," replied Dukat pulling him into an embrace. "My son. My son, at last."
Despite his suspicions, Mikor found himself engulfed in a wave of emotion. Despite everything that had happened, he had found his father. Years of pent up anger and frustration washed away from him as he threw his arms around the man who had meant so much to him, whose absence he had felt so keenly. He was somewhat amused to realize he was sobbing like a baby.
"I really must be dead," he said eventually.
"No," Dukat replied gently holding him at arms length. "Not yet."
"Then how?" asked Mikor wiping away his tears. "What is this place? What am I doing here?"
"You're here because I need you," said Dukat draping his arm across his sons shoulder and leading him to a place where the mists had cleared. Mikor could see the two figures much more clearly now as though they were just at the edge of the mists, as though they were merely actors behind a transparent curtain.
"Who are they?" he asked.
"You are here to help," remarked Dukat as though he had not heard the question. "To help me."
"Do what?"
"To take up the fight, my son," continued Dukat waiving a hand in the direction of the figures in the shadows. "You see these two are evenly matched. Neither can win. I need you to take up the fight. Together, we will prevail."
"But," protested Mikor. "I don't understand. Fight who?"
In an expansive gesture, Dukat spread his arms wide and parted the mists to the right of them and in the clearing Mikor could clearly see two humans. One was a young man of about his age, the other appeared to be much older, from the close resemblance of their features it was clear they were father and son.
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Jake turned and faced the man he had sought for so long, not sure he could trust what his eyes would reveal, not sure he could trust anything that transpired in this place. "Dad?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. "Is it really you?"
"Jake," replied Benjamin Sisko with a short barking laugh as he pulled him into an embrace. "My son. My own boy, at last."
Despite his suspicions, Jake found himself engulfed in a wave of emotion. Despite everything that had happened, he had found his father. Years of pent up anger and frustration washed away from him as he threw his arms around the man who had meant so much to him, whose absence he had felt so keenly. He was somewhat amused to realize he was sobbing like a baby.
"I really must be dead," he said eventually.
"No," Sisko replied gently caressing his head. "Not yet."
"Then how?" asked Jake wiping away his tears. "What is this place? What are we doing here?"
"You're here because I need you," said his father draping his arm across Jake's shoulder and leading him to a place where the mists had cleared. Jake could see the two figures much more clearly now as though they were just at the edge of the mists, as though they were merely actors behind a transparent curtain.
"Who are they?" he asked.
"That is why you are here, Jake," said Sisko shaking his finger at the figures. "You are here to help, or more specifically, to help your old man one more time."
"Do what?"
"To take up the fight," continued Sisko. "Father and son together once more. You see the problem is these two are evenly matched. Neither can win. I need you to take up the fight and together team Sisko will prevail."
"But," protested Jake. "I don't understand. This isn't like a baseball game. Fight who?"
In an expansive gesture, Sisko spread his arms wide and parted the mists to the left of them and in the clearing Jake could clearly see two Cardassians. One was a young man of about his age, the other appeared to be much older, and from the close resemblance of their features it was clear they were father and son.
"Fight him," replied his father as though it were the most reasonable request in the world.
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He slowly became aware of a profound silence and opening his eyes, realized his position had changed. He was no longer crouched beneath the stone altar; his arms no longer sheltered the body of his dying lover. Instead, he was crouched beside someone and that someone was sheltering the body of…Kira Nerys? This is not possible he thought as the realization struck him that he was crouched beside…himself.
"Now that has got to hurt," said a familiar voice quite close to him. He glanced past his own frozen body to discover someone else was crouched on the other side of the altar and that someone was none other than…Kira Nerys.
"Nerys!" he exclaimed in a mixture of puzzlement and relief. Standing, he made a quick survey of the room. Gone were the flames, gone were Dhek and her men, gone were Tobin, Jake and the rest of Tobin's men. They were alone in the passage with only their 'other' bodies frozen in time. "Why are we here?"
"You live here," she replied smiling at him. "But you can't stay here."
"I live here? What do you mean?" he demanded "Are we dead? Is this the Bajoran idea of an afterlife?"
"No, you are not dead, but she is dying. You must let her go."
"She?" asked Odo puzzled. "Don't you mean you?"
"Of course."
Wait a minute he thought. He walked around the room taking in every detail, or lack thereof. Something wasn't right. Granted he had never died before, nor had he experienced anything akin to what solids referred to as near death experiences, but…. He turned to his companion, she looked like Kira, stood like Kira, she even had the same voice, but there was something missing.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "And what do you want from me?"
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She slowly became aware of a profound silence and opening her eyes, realized her position had changed. She was no longer crouched beneath the stone altar; Odo's arms no longer sheltered her body. Instead, she was crouched beside someone and that someone was sheltering…her…body? This is not possible she thought as the realization struck her that she was crouched beside…herself.
"A strange sensation, is it not?" asked a familiar voice quite close to her. She glanced past her own frozen body to discover someone else was crouched on the other side of the altar and that someone was none other than…Kai Opaka.
"Eminence!" she exclaimed in a mixture of puzzlement and relief. Standing, she made a quick survey of the room. Gone were the flames, gone were Dhek and her men, gone were Tobin, Jake and the rest of Tobin's men. She clutched at her chest, gone was the wound. They were alone in the passage with only her 'other' body frozen in time. "Why are we here?"
"You live here," Opaka replied smiling at her. "But you cannot allow him to stay here."
"I live here? What do you mean?" she demanded "Are we dead?"
"No, you are not dead, but you are dying. He must let you go."
"Let me go?" asked Kira puzzled. "What do you mean let me go?"
"Odo has a job to do, he cannot do it as long as you live."
Wait a minute Kira thought. She walked around the room taking in every detail, or lack thereof. Something wasn't right. Granted she had never died before, nor had she experienced anything akin to what could be described as a near death experience, but…. She turned to her companion, the being with her looked like Opaka, stood like Opaka, she even had the same voice, but there was something missing.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "And what do you want from me?"
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I-ko Nye felt his limbs tremble as he realized he had never been so aware of the planets gravitational pull before in his life. Struggling to lift his head, he felt perspiration run down his face and back. He could not give up, not now, not when there was so much at stake. Groaning with the effort, he lifted his arms a bit higher. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he intoned the next line: When the world is plunged into absolute night, the child that truly knows his father shall be the key."
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"But," protested Mikor. "Why would I want to fight him? He's just a human, a pathetic scrawny looking human at that." "Don't look at me, son," replied Dukat placing his hands on his son's shoulders and turning him to face his opponent. "Look at them. Can't you see?"
"See what? It's just a couple of humans."
"Not humans," corrected his father. "They just look human, trust me. These are the beings that have me imprisoned here. Fight them and free me."
"Free you?" asked Mikor. "Is this some type of prison then?"
"A hellish prison," replied his father. "I've been trapped here forever, you must set me free."
Could it be that easy? Mikor suspected it was not; nothing was as easy as it looked. He tested the weight and balance of his weapon, marveling at the craftsmanship, reveling in the power he felt as the blade sliced the air on either side of him and out of the corner of his eye; he became aware of the reflection of the shadowy figures in the mist. For the moment they had stopped fighting and one figure stood testing his weapon in what was a mirror reflection of Mikor's movements.
"You can feel the power can't you?" asked his father.
"Yes," he replied with a laugh. "Yes I can."
"Draw your strength from me boy," commanded his father. "And no one can defeat us."
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"But," protested Jake. "Why would I want to fight him? I don't even know him." "What does that have to do with anything?" replied Benjamin Sisko, placing his hands on his son's shoulders and turning him to face his opponent. "Look at him. You will learn all you need to know just by watching him."
"But they are just Cardassians. We aren't even at war with Cardassia anymore. Why would I want to fight him?"
"Not Cardassian," corrected his father. "They may look Cardassian. But these are the beings that have imprisoned me here. Fight them and free me."
"Free you?" asked Jake. "Are you telling me…what? That the Dominion took you prisoner after the end of the war and have been holding you here all this time?"
"Is it so hard to believe?" replied his father. "I've been trapped here forever, you must set me free."
Could it be that easy? Jake suspected it was not; nothing was as easy as it looked. And yet, as a writer the thought did have a certain appeal. It was a plot twist that he might have come up with himself. His father thought dead these past two years, actually held prisoner by the Dominion, his son spurred on by a vague dream, and through only a son's love and determination could the father once again be set free. It was legendary in scope. It would make one hell of a story.
It was crap.
He watched as his opponent tested the weight and balance of his weapon, and marveled at the craftsmanship of it and the skill of the young man wielding it and knew that he would stand no chance against the Cardassian in hand to hand combat. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, out of the corner of his eye, he became aware of the reflection of the shadowy figures in the mist. For the moment they had stopped fighting and one figure stood testing his weapon in what was a mirror reflection of his opponents movements.
"You are afraid aren't you?" asked his father.
"Are you kidding?" commented Jake. "Who wouldn't be? Look at the guy, he knows what he's doing."
"Draw your strength from me Jake," commanded his father. "And no one can defeat us."
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"Who are you?" Odo demanded. "And what do you want from me?" "We have not met," she replied with a knowing smile. "But you have spent the last few days looking for me."
"Looking for you?" he asked and instantly knew the answer. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that you are some future version of Sarah Sisko? What are you really? A Prophet?"
"I am Sarah," she assured him. "And no, I am not a Prophet, merely the child of one."
"All right Miss Sisko," he said sarcastically. "Child of the Prophets. What you do want from me?"
"We need your assistance, Odo."
"The Prophets? Need my assistance?" He crossed his arms defiantly across his chest and laughed softly. "Now, why do I find that hard to believe? I do not even believe in your Prophets."
"Which is why we need you," replied Sarah with a sad smile. "You are the non-believer."
"As in?"
"As in: the non-believer shall seize upon that which must be known only by the one."
"And why should I help you?" demanded Odo. "You, who have taken the one person in the entire Universe who means anything to me, and allowed her to die! Why should I lift a finger to help you?"
"Because she would wish it."
Odo stared at her as though stunned. She was right, Kira would have wished him to do anything for her Prophets, but Kira was gone and he felt…nothing. "A likely story," he said. "But I know something of gods. Remember? Some even consider me a god, and I'll tell you one thing, I know I want nothing to do with your gods, nor anyone else's. I know how they use and manipulate their followers for their own selfish ends with only vague promises of a better life – but only after the miserable follower is dead and gone. Can you promise me that Kira will have a better life now that she's gone?"
"No," Sarah replied softly. "I cannot. For if you do not assist us, no one, not even Nerys will be able to rest in peace. The power that is about to be unleashed will destroy all that stands in its path, whether in this life or the next. Only you can prevent that from happening. Only you can seize upon that which is known only by the one."
"And if I refuse?"
"You cannot," replied Sarah, and Odo watched as her form flickered as though it were a holocharacter experiencing a power fluctuation. "We are running out of time. Do your duty Odo, let Kira go."
As he watched, she slowly faded from view and with her faded the world around him.
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"Who are you really?" Kira demanded. "Opaka is not dead, only imprisoned on a distant planet." "Where I did die," replied Opaka. "Only to be brought back to life. I will someday die, as do all living things, as will you."
"But why are you here now?" continued Kira. "How is that possible?"
"You know as well as I that through the Prophets all things are possible. Do you remember the last time we met?" Opaka asked with a knowing smile. "You confessed to me that you had spent your life fighting for a cause and that you were afraid that the Prophets would not forgive you. Do you remember what I told you?"
"You told me," replied Kira fighting the tears that welled up in her throat despite herself. "To embrace the violence inside of me. That it was a part of me."
"That it is," Opaka assured her. "The fight within you is as essential to you as the air you breathe. Which is why what I am about to ask will be so difficult for you."
"What, Opaka? What are you asking?"
Opaka took a step forward and placed her hand upon Kira's heart. "I am asking for you to stop fighting," she replied softly.
"You want me to die?" gasped Kira.
"As long as you continue to fight death," replied Opaka. "Odo cannot do what is required of him. If you will not do this for the Prophets, do it for him."
"Odo?" asked Kira. "What does this have to do with Odo?"
"You are aware of the legend of the shadow warriors," said Opaka. "But you are not aware that for the struggle to end, the force that will be released must be contained. Odo is the only one who can contain it. But, he lives here now. Here in the moment as you struggle between life and death. Unless you let him go, he cannot do what is required of him."
Kira stared at the images of her 'other' body and of Odo frozen in time and realized that as long as she drew breath, nothing, no force in the Universe would move him from her side. She looked back at Opaka and was surprised to see her image flicker as though it were a holocharacter experiencing a power fluctuation.
"Time is of the essence, child," said Opaka. "You know what must be done."
As she watched, Opaka slowly faded from view and with her faded the world around Kira.
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Jake Sisko watched the figures in the shadows, one reflected the movements of his opponent, the other stood, as he stood, the weapon held at it's side and a thought occurred to him. He quickly brought the weapon up and held it in front of him; both hands held high, the figure in the shadows moved in time with his movements. "Let me get this straight," he said cautiously. "I fight this guy and you get to go free."
"Exactly," replied his father. "You always were a smart boy."
"What about me?" he asked.
"What do you mean what about you?"
"I mean, what happens to me? Do I get to leave as well? Or do I stay here and take your place?"
"We're running out of time, Jake," urged his father. "You have to fight and fight now!"
"I have to stay here don't I?" demanded Jake realization washing over him like a cold shower. "You're asking me to take your place aren't you?"
"Jake-o. Don't think of it like that…"
"Who are you?" demanded Jake rounding on him. "You're not my father. My father would never lie me to…"
"Listen to me," shouted his father seizing him by the arm and roughly turning him back to face the Cardassian. "I don't have time for this foolishness. Now are you going to fight him or not?"
"Not," replied Jake tossing the weapon to the ground. "I don't know who you are, or what you want, but I'm not going to do anything until I get some answers!"
The man before him merely smiled and pulled him into his arms. "Good boy," he said softly.
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Milkor watched the figures in the shadows, one reflected his movements perfectly, the other stood still, the weapon hanging from his hand just as his opponent stood. As he watched the human held the weapon in front of him, the figure in the shadow doing the exact same thing, and a thought occurred to him. "All I have to do," he said cautiously. "Is fight this human and you go free."
"Exactly," replied his father. "You always were a clever boy."
"What about me?" he asked suspicion rising in his mind.
"What do you mean what about you?"
"I mean, what happens to me? Do I get to leave as well? Or do I stay here and take your place?"
"We're running out of time, Mikor," urged his father. "You have to fight and fight now!"
"I have to stay here don't I?" demanded Mikor realization washing over him like a cold shower. "You're asking me to take your place aren't you?"
"To take your place by my side," coaxed his father. Mikor smiled, he knew that tone of voice well. His father always used it when trying to seduce someone into doing something he wanted.
"You really are my father aren't you?" He asked shrugging off his father's hands. "Always fishing for a better position. Always looking out for yourself. Always ready with a threat when your lies don't work."
"Listen to me," shouted his father seizing him by the arm and roughly turning him back to face the human. "I don't have time for this foolishness. Now are you going to fight him or not?"
"Not," replied Mikor tossing the weapon to the ground. "I know you, you haven't changed at all. You bargained away your life in the pursuit of self-aggrandizement. You bargained away your family in order to gain position and power. And now you would have me bargain my life away for what? What is it this time? Some grand scheme for universal domination?"
"Boy," growled his father. "You have no idea what's going on here. Take up that weapon and fight!"
"Do it yourself," spat Mikor. "You! That's all you've ever cared about." Without a backwards glance, he started to walk toward the humans.
He heard his father's bellow of rage, he heard the scrape of the metal blades as his father picked up the weapon. He heard the sharp intake of breath as his father raised the weapon above his head. And as the blade bit deep into his flesh he smiled to himself.
"You can't hurt me," he gasped as his legs gave way beneath him. "You're all ready dead to me."
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What fresh new hell is this, wondered Bryan Landis as the Station rocked beneath them. "Report!" he ordered. "What was that a bomb?" "Negative, sir," replied the officer on duty at the science station. "We're reading elevated neutrinos coming from the wormhole."
"Good heavens!" shouted Vonda Lek. "Make that massive neutrino levels. I've never seen anything like this before."
"I have," commented Nog.
"Well, Lieutenant?" demanded Landis. "Care to enlighten us?"
"Sorry, sir," replied Nog. "It's just that the last time I saw neutrino levels like this…well…it was due to the first wave of the Dominion invasion."
"On screen!" ordered Landis. "I sincerely hope you are wrong, Mr. Nog."
On the screen they could clearly see the wormhole open and waves of light swirling forth. "Any ships scheduled to return?"
"No, sir!"
"Shields!" Landis ordered.
"Shields not responding," replied Vonda. "All available power has been routed to the life support systems."
"Weapons then!"
"Negative…"
"I know," muttered Landis. "All available power has been routed to life support." Wonderful.
"Shouldn't we prepare to evacuate the Station?" asked Nog.
"If it is the Dominion," replied Landis. "There wouldn't be much point now would there?"
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His entire body trembled with the effort to remain upright. He felt as though the weight of the Universe were bearing down upon him, crushing him with its weight. Muttering a prayer for strength, Iko-Nye lifted his hands as high as his screaming joints would allow.
His breath failing him, his voice weakened with effort he muttered the last line: "And the non-believer shall seize upon that which must be known only by the One."
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Odo was aware of ragged breathing and opening his eyes realized he was back in the Fire Caves in the shelter of the stone altar. "Odo?" asked a weak voice and he looked down to find Kira Nerys stirring feebly in his arms.
"You too?" he asked lowering her gently to the ground and he knew the answer as soon as he looked into her eyes.
"Yes," she gasped.
"An illusion do you think?"
"A visitation."
He nodded in understanding. "Nerys…"
"Hush," she said laying a hand upon his arm. "You know what you have to do."
"Are you sure?" he pleaded. "Can you tell me you trust what is going on here?"
"I trust you."
"But…"
"I trust you," she repeated, her teeth clenched against the pain. "I trust you to do the right thing, even if that means I have to…"
"If there is a way…"
"If there is a way you'll find it," she replied. "I know."
He grasped the hilt of the knife and hesitated. "I…can't."
"I know you can't," she replied gently pushing his hands away. "That's my job. You just do yours."
"Nerys."
"I know," she said giving him a weak smile. "I love you too."
He watched helplessly as her hands closed around the hilt and with a stifled scream, she pulled the blade free. Seconds passed like hours as he sat and watched her breathe her last, every fiber of his being cried out at the helplessness of the situation, willing her to continue to take one more breath. He was keenly aware of the stunned feeling that crept over him as she breathed in for the last time and the endless silence that followed, as she breathed no more.