Chapter Ten: Images

Chris wakes to the beep of the comm system, followed closely by Kira's voice. "Kira to Chris. Good morning, Chris."

Kira's soft tone and pleasant greeting are worlds apart from the heated confrontation of yesterday morning. Chris rubs his eyes and looks around the room, once again coming to terms with his 24th century surroundings. With no oceans of white or car crashes plaguing his dreams, Chris slept like the dead.

Chris' eventual response is sluggish. "Good morning."

"I hadn't thought to show you how to set a wake program," Kira says after Chris acknowledges he's awake. "I wanted to check in and see if you still want to meet for breakfast. If you'd prefer more rest after the day you had, I'd completely understand."

"Erm… no. Breakfast. Good." Chris fights to shake sleep away and catches a blurry glimpse of the time: 0639.

"OK; just wanted to make sure." Kira's smile at Chris' grogginess is audible. "Why don't you come down to my quarters when you're ready. I can go over some reports in the meantime; there's no rush. Just tap the bell when you get here—that's the large button on the panel."

"OK," Chris says as a stretched-out yawn. "Thanks."

During last evening's impromptu gathering, Chris intercepted Julian during a round of restroom breaks to seek guidance on aspects of station life that others of this time take for granted: using the sonic shower, replicating clothes, and so on. Chris hadn't thought about needing a "wake program" as Kira put it.

Chris makes a mental note, his list of which is growing at an incredible pace.

I can read a PADD, but now I need to ask someone how to write on one.

Stepping out of his pajama pants, Chris cautiously enters the sonic shower. Despite the harmless description Julian provided, Chris is hesitant to close the door and activate the contraption. After a few moments of courage-building, he holds his breath, closes his eyes, and presses the cycle button. With a soft hissing sound, several emitters spray a fine, warm mist over him before the 'sonic' part of the shower begins.

Whoa.

Chris reacts with a strong shiver.

It tingles. It tingles everywhere!

With guilty fascination, Chris lets the mist/sonic cycle repeat several times before he presses the cycle button again. After he does, the mist/sonic cycle gives way to the mist/air cycle. When the machine signals that the 'rinse' cycle is complete, Chris feels only a barely perceptible film of water on his skin and only a slight dampness to his hair.

That… was… nuts!

With wide eyes, Chris blows out a long, slow breath.

I've never been one for long showers, but… damn.

Slowly emerging from the sonic shower, Chris reaches for a towel. He dries off the small amount of moisture the machine left behind and goes about getting dressed. Before putting on his shirt, he can't resist stepping out to the full-length mirror in the bedroom. A wide grin crosses his face.

Damn. I look good.

Chris barely recognizes himself. Julian may have described his physical condition as "typical" for a 24th century 36-year-old but, to Chris, his reflection may as well be Mr. Universe.

Chris can't help it; he flexes. But he doesn't just flex, he strikes cheesy body-builder poses.

Grrrr

Chris makes no effort to fight his wide smile. That is, until he hears a stifled chuckle to his left. His face pales and his gut twists.

"You bypassed the door again, didn't you?" Completely embarrassed, Chris can't turn to face the woman he knows is standing in his bedroom doorway.

"You weren't answering," Kira snickers. "You must've been in the shower when I rang. You enjoying yourself?"

Chris sighs and turns to face Kira's smug grin. "Did I mention I look totally different than I did back home?"

Unable to wipe the grin from her face, Kira covers it by scratching a fabricated itch. "Mm-hmm."

"I talked to the doctor about it yesterday because, to be honest, I used to be in pretty sad shape. I think the Prophets changed me because of the heart attack."

"Heart attack?" Kira's smirk vanishes in a flash.

"Jake mentioned it yesterday."

"I knew you were holding back. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want to darken the mood. 'Hey guys, nice to meet you, Jake says I died'."

"Died?!"

Chris looks away from Kira's demanding stare. "That was the 'something' that went wrong. That's why I got stuck in the wormhole. You're stuck with me because I had a weak heart."

Kira's prior amusement is replaced with frustration and sympathy. "Chris, you really should've said something."

Chris shakes his head. "It's OK. I'm fine; really. The Prophets did their thing and… here I am—better than ever. I just didn't want to talk about the changes with the others. I'm glad it didn't come up."

"You're telling me you've died, and the 'changes' are what you didn't want to talk about?" Kira shakes her head trying to understand Chris' reasoning. "If anything, I figure the part you'd avoid was how they put you here."

Chris scoffs. "You seriously think I had any chance of dodging that one?" Chris looks in the mirror and puts a hand on his stomach. "I didn't want to talk about how I used to be. This is the 'me' they know. This is the me I want to keep."

Kira nods, realizing the extent of Chris' discomfort with his former self. "I don't know how you were before, Chris, but I agree—this is you now. You look good."

Chris can't gauge Kira's sincerity, but it doesn't matter. It swells his chest to hear her say it.

"Look, I'm sorry for busting in," Kira bows slightly in apology. "I wanted to make up for dropping the ball yesterday… but an important meeting just fell in my lap. I'd turn down anything else to keep my word, but it's hard to say 'no' to a Starfleet Admiral."

Chris blinks and nods in agreement. "I can imagine."

"I should be free in time for lunch, so how about we meet Ezri and Julian at Quark's around 1130. I can give you a proper tour of the station instead of leaving you to wander like yesterday."

Chris smirks. "I think I can stay out of trouble till then."

Kira smiles and shakes her head. "Please tell me you don't plan to spend the whole time staring at that." She dips her chin to the mirror.

"No, I…" Chris blushes, but his smile quickly recovers in light of Kira's teasing tone. "I think I can pry myself away before long."

"Good. I'll see you at lunch."

Watching Kira turn to leave, Chris waits to hear the door to his quarters close. With a grin on his face, he pivots back to the mirror and flexes.

Grrrr

Chris leaves his quarters feeling like a new man. He feels more natural in his new body, and fewer aspects of 24th century life seem so daunting. He walks down the hall, armed with his combadge, map PADD, and a replicated blueberry bagel.

Chris smiles and hums nothing in particular as he makes his way to the turbolift.

It's gonna be a good day. I can feel it.

Having a turbolift to himself, Chris thinks about his conversation with Kira. Despite somber undertones surrounding his previous condition and encounter with the Prophets, he lingers on her smiles, the empathy she expressed, and how she even voiced a compliment!

My memories may not be my own, but I'm in love!

By the time the turbolift reaches the Promenade, Chris is beaming. He steps onto the deck ready to conquer the galaxy.

I have a second chance at everything! Maybe even a shot at winning the heart of a beautiful woman named Kira Nerys!

Kira slams a PADD onto her desk. "Are you not hearing me?!"

"What I'm hearing," Admiral Ross responds calmly, "are a lot of requests for resources, personnel, and ships."

"All of which I've requested to maintain the integrity of the Treaty of Bajor—a task you yourself entrusted to this station!"

"I entrusted that task to Benjamin Sisko. His high regard for you is the only reason you're sitting behind that desk instead of answering to another Starfleet officer."

Kira blinks and relaxes her aggressive posture. "Forgive my outburst, admiral, but…"

"It was also believed that your relationship with the Founder would be an asset," Ross points to the picture of Kira's dance with Odo, "but it's starting to feel like a liability."

"Admiral…" Kira takes a deep breath to stay focused, "…I just know something's been set in motion. I just don't know what yet."

"Colonel, I wouldn't approve these requests based on one of Benjamin's hunches, so I most certainly won't approve them on one of yours—especially when I hear your behavior on the matter has become borderline obsessive."

Kira flinches at the comment, "I have data, Admiral, but it has to be analyzed discretely. Too many personnel changes after the war mean I'm not sure who to trust. There's a pattern forming here, I just need help to see it."

Admiral Ross sighs and looks to his aide.

The aide responds to the unspoken request. "You have a meeting with the Romulan ambassador in twenty minutes, admiral."

"Very well, colonel. My aide will stay behind so you can explain what you have. We'll make an assessment; I'll see what I can do."

After the "obsessive" accusation, Kira does her best to mute her gratitude. "Thank you, admiral."

Floating through the Promenade, Chris feels nothing like the nervous tourist he was the day before. The place appears less intimidating—almost brighter. Even the sight of a new alien race doesn't faze him.

Chris' confident stride carries him past the Bajoran Temple. Worshipers receive warm blessings from men in robes as they file out after services. Chris remembers that Jadzia, Dax's host before Ezri, was killed by a Pah-wraith-possessed Gul Dukat within the walls of that temple. He chews the last bite of his bagel more slowly as thoughts of death cloud his mood.

She's 'died' more than once. Might not be a bad idea to talk to her about it.

Lost in thought, Chris is surprised by a hand on his arm.

"A moment, child?"

Chris almost chokes on the last of his breakfast. "Hmm?"

Turning around, Chris is met with the intense stare of a vedek from the temple. Before he can object, the robed stranger grabs Chris' ear and closes his eyes. Chris tries to refuse this violation of personal space, but trying to step away from someone with a firm grip on your ear is surprisingly painful. A muted "Ouch" escapes his lips before he surrenders to the Bajoran man's grip.

After an uncomfortable few seconds, the man opens his eyes. Chris can only recall one result that ever came of this ritual during the 'show', so he can't help but make a wise remark.

"Let me guess: my Pagh is strong?"

"On the contrary, child, I can't feel your Pagh at all." The vedek seems disconcerted, making the statement doubly unsettling for Chris.

"Uh… that's not what I expected," Chris says as he rubs his throbbing lobe. "Is that… normal?"

"I've seen it many times," the vedek begins.

Chris breathes a sigh of relief.

"It's how we know the spirit has left the body—yet here you stand."

Chris pales. "I, uh… I'm… told that I… died among the Prophets."

"Interesting," the vedek says with a curious blink. "I'd like to explore your experience in more depth—if you'd be willing. But now is not the time."

Chris blinks back to the entrance of the temple as a realization occurs to him. "You didn't grab me by chance."

The vedek nods a subtle bow of acknowledgment. "I've seen your likeness while consulting the orb."

"So, you know how I came here?"

The vedek is genuinely at a loss. "I know nothing about you."

"I don't understand. The orb…"

"I was merely shown an image of you consulting the orb. I can explain nothing else, but I believe it is their wish for me to bring you to it." The vedek turns and gestures to the temple doorway.

After some hesitation, Chris walks with him.

"Are you a man of faith, child?" the vedek asks.

"No, so this is all a bit uncomfortable. Please, call me Chris."

"As you wish," the vedek nods. "You do not believe the Prophets are gods?"

"I know the Prophets exist. They're powerful and possess incredible abilities—my presence here is proof of that. But… do I believe they're gods?" Chris shakes his head. "I don't believe in gods—though I do believe I was married to the devil once." Chris immediately cringes at his poor taste in humor. "I'm sorry; sometimes I joke when I'm nervous."

The vedek grins and holds up a hand to put Chris at ease. "I am not offended. We are surrounded by believers of many faiths, and many who have no faith at all. My own faith does not depend on the acceptance of others." The vedek stops walking and points. "Here we are."

Chris turns to see an ornate case he recognizes from his implanted memories. "There are different orbs, right? Does it matter which one I… consult?"

"I believe, in this instance, the Prophets have a purpose that transcends the nature of the orbs. They have only shown me a vision of you here." The vedek doesn't give a direct answer to Chris' question, but more an explanation that the question is irrelevant.

"What do I do?"

"When you are ready, open the case and look upon the orb. The Prophets will show you that which they wish to reveal."

Chris examines the case closely. The design and materials of it are otherworldly, even considering his new frame of reference. It doesn't escape Chris that his experiences with the Prophets thus far have been traumatic, including a vaguely-remembered death.

I'm not sure I want to touch this thing, much less open it.

As he inspects the intricacies of the case's design, Chris is confronted with more memories that he knows are not his own. Among them, he finds it interesting that the Prophets made little effort to make him perceive them as gods. The Bajorans worship them as such, but almost every other race simply refers to them as "wormhole aliens."

Is that just how it is, or did they not want to influence me on decisions of faith? Should I be worried about this Pagh thing?

After staring at the case for several moments, Chris realizes he can stand here and think himself to death, or he can open it and get on with whatever's going to happen.

"Aw, hell. Here goes nothing."

Chris opens the case. Intense light spills into the room.

White. Everywhere.

What did I expect?

The experience isn't so much like Chris' time in the emptiness of the Celestial Temple as the foggy beginning of his bad dream. Sounds are the first clues to his location: utensils scraping against dishes, glasses clinking together, mugs thumping down on tables, and the overlapping chatter of a dozen dinner conversations. A sudden cheer of "Dabo!" leaves little doubt that Chris is in Quark's bar, but he can't see anything but hazy white.

The fog eventually darkens and images merge with sounds. Chris is definitely in Quark's bar, but it appears to be some remote corner of it—perhaps an upper level. As the dream-like images shift, two men at an isolated table come into focus: a Bajoran security officer Chris has never seen before, and the Andorian with the bandaged antenna.

The pair doesn't react to Chris' presence. He finds this incredibly odd until he can't detect any evidence of himself either.

This is some kind of messed-up… out-of-body experience!

Bringing Chris' attention back to the men, they lean closer. The security officer speaks. "She's getting too close."

"I know; I thought she was on to me the other day when I got this," the Andorian points to his bandage. "In the end it worked out perfectly. She 'made' me go back on the night watch to finish my work. It gave me access to her office—and the opportunity to prepare a contingency."

The Andorian makes a gesture signifying an explosion.

"Fool. A bomb is too risky."

"What risk? She's been keeping her investigation so private that no one will know what leads she's been following. The aftermath could further distract anyone who might come close."

"Are you certain?"

The Andorian nods.

"Alright, but we need to minimize collateral damage. We don't want an investigation to smother our plans. There's a Starfleet admiral and Romulan ambassador on the station. The last thing we want is to make it appear to be an attempt on one of their lives—understand?"

"That won't be a problem. I planted a small device under her desk. Fatal to anyone near it, but limited damage beyond the office. There'll be no questioning its intended target. With their old chief engineer on Earth, I doubt anyone will detect it before it's too late. They shouldn't be able to find anything afterwards to implicate me and, if we're lucky, they'll put me on the job of sorting through the mess. If that's the case, I can destroy any remaining evidence."

The Andorian passes a small transmitter to the officer. "You can monitor security feeds and set it off when there'll be fewer casualties and witnesses."

The two men nod at each other before standing to leave.

Chris' surroundings fade and the fog of white returns.