Persistent Visions
By Rob Morris
DEEP SPACE NINE, 2374
Colonel Kira set the doors of her office to opaque. She nodded to her visitor. It had been a difficult six weeks. But it was not Jadzia's death she wished to talk of, nor Sisko's departure and withdrawal. No, what she had to talk about could only be spoken of with either the ailing Vedek Yarka, now an avowed enemy of Kai Winn, or the being who sat before her.
"I do not hold to your faith, or its tenets, as least as they are written in your holy books. I have never given Confession. In my faith, everything must be brought out, lest evil dwell in the shadows. But do I understand correctly that the matters I speak of here with you are strictly between me and -"
"And God. Yes, Nerys. That is correct."
"I was going to say me and The Prophets. But that's part of why you're here, Francis. You are a Catholic Priest. The Prophets have said that you are The Priest. As both, I am in desperate need of your assistance. I think I'm teetering on the edge of blasphemy."
"You, Nerys? I'd no more believe that than I'd believe Radar was a cold-blooded murderer!"
Kira shook her head.
"Isn't Walter O'Reilly an Immortal?"
Father Mulcahy nodded, remembering.
"Oh, Yes. How could I forget? I was his Watcher in Korea. I suppose you mean his method of survival."
"Francis, the man cuts off other people's heads with a sword. But that's my point. People do harsh things to get by. I did. It seems to be Kai Winn's Rule Of Life, even when she doesn't have to be that way. But she never seems to get assaulted by the big questions. I can't believe she would be as ruthless as she is if she were that self-aware."
Mulcahy tried to draw Kira out.
"My child-what is it that disturbs you?"
Kira felt comforted by a phrase that, if said by her own Kai, would sound condescending and exploratory.
"Father-do you still believe that The Prophets are angels, in service to your God?"
"Nerys, what I said was not meant to in any way denigrate-"
"Please-just Yes or No."
There was despair in her eyes.
"Yes-I do. They are powerful, wondrous beings. They have domin-er, they have power over time. They have granted me some of that power, and have asked me to explain my beliefs to them. They asked me-Me, a kid from Philly-to battle forces of avarice and wickedness on their behalf. They asked for nothing in return."
His eyes were tearing.
"They allowed me to look upon Bethlehem, on the night my faith tells me the Universe was reborn! But they are not my God. He-is One, and I may have no other Gods. That is The First Commandment. Nerys-why are you asking me this?"
She looked down, then at him again.
"Francis-we all had visions, as you fought The Pagh Wraiths. But in mine, a force descended upon me, and claimed that he was 'The Father Of The Prophets'. He called them his children, his little-angels."
A stunned Francis said two words more, and not entirely as an exclamation.
"My God."
PLANET EARTH
The Commander of Deep Space Nine, Captain Of The Defiant, Scourge Of The Dominion, and Emissary Of The Prophets Benjamin Lafayette Sisko-was shucking clams. He had gotten pretty good at it. Right then, he felt it was all he was good for. From inside, he heard his father's voice.
"You can talk to him, if you want. But I won't wish you luck-that's in scarce supply, right now."
The visitor chuckled with Joseph Sisko, and then came out. Ben tried to shoo him off.
"I have to warn you, I'm not much company right now."
"Yeah? Well, that's alright. If I wanted a lot of company, I'dve braved Mildred's family reunion. Strike that-no one I know is that brave."
Despite the wormhole, and Jadzia, Sisko smiled at his visiting ancestor.
"Hello, Sherman."
Colonel Potter nodded, and smiled back.
"Could you use a hand with those? I can still shuck em' with the very best."
Sherman Potter had seen three bloody wars. Joseph Sisko had seen none. For that reason alone, Ben allowed this intrusion.
"Pull up a chair-Old Man."
The shattered Captain looked out at the night sky.
"Once, I would have said that those stars were the eyes of God-or The Prophets-or both-or neither. It didn't matter, because of what they symbolized in my mind. Beauty-and mystery. Now, all that is gone, and all my mind sees is an endless row of razor teeth, and the sky has become the mouth of Gul Dukat, ready to devour everything I hold dear. Like Jennifer. Like poor dear Tora Ziyal. Like Jadzia."
Potter continued to shuck clams, but spoke up as well.
"Ben-grandson mine, give ten or so generations-a wise man once told a doctor that in war, good young people die, and no one and nothing can alter that rule. The Jadzia I met was a soldier, and she was married to a soldier. She knew the risks."
"Is that your saying, Sherm?"
The older soldier shook his head.
"Nope. That saying -or something very much like it-was told to Hawkeye in Nineteen-Hundred-And-Fifty-by Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake-and may God rest and keep his Immortal's soul."
Ben started at something Sherman had said.
"Henry Blake was an Immortal? That's right-I wondered why you said that odd phrase to him. Who was he, Sherm? Really."
"Once, he was Bedivere, a Knight under King Arthur. Later-he was just one hell of a guy."
Sisko covered his face.
"You mean to tell me, that I met a Knight Of The Round Table? No less than Arthur's First Knight and Nephew? Ohhh-Sherm. We failed to save a man of that value?"
Potter again shook his head.
"Ben-haven't you been listening? When we met him, Henry Blake was already dead. We couldn't alter history-it took me time to realize that. But we were in the middle of a war-a time-war, but a war nevertheless. I even think that the Prophets showed you that to maybe prepare you better for Jadzia."
Sisko nodded.
"I wouldn't put it past them. They've done things to me, Sherman. I see everything differently. They wanted an Emissary, and I was a reluctant one. So they custom-fit me. Told me how to win. But I ignored their advice-just once-but for Jadzia, that once was enough. Now Worf, another friend, grieves for his wife-and its all my fault."
Sherm Potter took in everything that had been said, and offered up his learned opinion of Sisko's self-judgment.
"Mule-Muffins."
DEEP SPACE NINE
Kira looked straight at Mulcahy.
"Father, forgive me. For I Am A Blasphemer. Both to my faith-and to yours. If that being was your God, and if he is The Father Of The Prophets-then they themselves are not gods, but merely Angels, as you call them. If that being was a Pagh Wraith or some kind of trickster-then I have allowed it to take our Gods in vain, and allowed myself to believe it all might be true. Am I damned?"
While not chuckling, Francis moved quickly to dispel this notion of damnation.
"Nerys-you are not damned. If anything, you are among the most blessed of all beings-to touch the One, True-"
Francis caught himself.
"I am sorry, My Child. I promise not to let it happen again."
"Don't apologize, Father. I did ask a Priest of another faith to speak with me, after all-and I'm glad I did. Let's say-it was your God. Why speak through me?"
Now, the Padre did chuckle.
"Why do The Prophets speak through Captain Sisko-or myself, for that matter? Kira, whoever this being, or these beings are-I am sure of this much. They are forces for and of good. Angels or Prophets, Avatars or Almighty-we should both concentrate on how very blessed we are to be able to ask these very weighty questions. Whoever they all truly are-we know that we love and are loved by them. Isn't that enough?"
She tried to smile.
"It should be. It almost is. But all these 'What If' questions still make me fear for my soul, Francis. I mean, What If I ask the wrong question?"
"What if you fail to ask the right one?"
That caused her to think, so Mulcahy continued.
"As to all this talk of damnation-to think that a stray thought in and of itself places you in line for Hell is taking even the doctrine of 'Impure Thoughts' a bit far. Damnation, like Salvation, is earned."
"I suppose that just these questions alone can't destroy me."
Mulcahy looked at the office door.
"Exactly-words and questions have little bearing. Watch-'I, Francis Mulcahy, The Priest, declare that whomever walks through that door next is forever condemned.' You see-my words, which I will ask forgiveness for later on, have no-"
A robed figure came into the office, fuming.
"Francis Mulcahy-you are a pernicious influence on my people. I hereby challenge you to a public debate of our beliefs. Good day!"
Still confused, Kira smiled about The Kai's entry so soon after that proclamation.
"Francis-I know who'll I be rooting for."
Mulcahy nodded.
"I just wish I knew who HE will be rooting for, Nerys."
EARTH, NEW ORLEANS
Sisko responded to Potter's dismissal of his self-pity.
"Sherm-please leave. I don't need one of your colorful aphorisms. My problems may in fact amount to Mule Muffins, as you put it. But they are my problems, and I alone can solve them-in solitude."
The wily older man shifted gears.
"Ok-no advice. I hate folks telling me to cheer up. I never get off the canvas till I'm good and ready, anyhow."
Ben nodded appreciatively.
"I'm sorry, Sherm-and thank you for understanding."
Potter continued to shuck clams.
"Ben-if you're not up for a pep-rally, howzabout a story. It's about a friend of mine-and no, that friend is not myself, you, Jake, Joe, or anybody in my or your circles of really close friends. It's about a fellow CO, name of Bob Hogan."
Sisko sat back down, and continued to shuck clams. He acquiesced to the yarn - spinning of his ancestor.
"So long as it doesn't contain a moral. My father has told me so many stories, with so many morals, that my moral morale is in a mired morass."
Potter did a double-take, to see if Hawkeye Pierce was about. He then began his story.
"Colonel Robert Hogan was in charge of a hush-hush OSS Operation inside Germany during The Big One. Using tunnels and caves dating back to the Neanderthal era, he and his men had free run of a POW camp. Of course, it didn't hurt that the staff were all boobs, and that the local SS and Generals were so very impressed with themselves. Using those unique circumstances plus their own talents-they helped to send captured POW's back home. The irony being-the camp they were staying in was always recorded as having a negligible escape record. Their efforts helped the Allied war effort in the best possible way-by putting soldiers back behind tanks and rifles, gunners back at their batteries, and pilots back in their cockpits."
Sherman paused, and saw Ben nod.
"Go on. Were they ever captured?"
Potter smiled inside, knowing that Sisko had not yet caught on to his scheme.
"Nope. Many a close call, mind you. But when US Tanks came rolling in, Hogan's Heroes had already disabled most of the remaining German war machine in their area. Phone lines cut, radios inoperative. Where our boys needed a bridge, it stayed up. Where the Nazis needed a bridge, it went up. They were, to coin a phrase, awesome. Then they went back to England, heroes to all, watching the newsreels of themselves. Ben, they were one and all outraged at what they saw."
Ben shook his head.
"Were the newsreels that inaccurate?"
"No, they were dead on. What they were outraged by was a part of the Nazi war effort they had not known about. No one had, outside of Germany. Hell, many inside Germany were shocked to find out."
Sisko did the arithmetic.
"The Holocaust. Sherm, I wish I could tell you that was the last time it happened-or even that it never happened on so large a relative scale again. But it did. From Hitler's madness and evil, dictators and thugs across creation have drawn inspiration, and..."
Something caught Ben's attention.
"Why didn't Allied Command inform Hogan of the death-camps? If he and his men were that talented, then he might have been able to liberate..."
Potter sat sadly still.
"Ben, Eisenhower's people said that with Hogan's mile-a-second mind, he could have had half those camps freed. But then, what to do with all those folks, many of whom could barely move? No real way to rescue em' while they were travelling in Fortress Europa."
Ben Sisko remembered his devil-deal with Garak, that brought the Romulans into the Dominion War. A disgusting choice that gave all of the Alpha Quadrant much-needed breathing room. So he chose to dispute Sherman's account.
"They could have found a way. Had Hogan free one camp at a time. At least that would have saved some of those poor people."
Potter shrugged.
"And then what? After each camp, the Germans would grow wilier-they always did. No, Supreme Allied Command made the determination that the best use of Hogan's Heroes was to free the POW's, as they were doing. Any other use would have rendered them quickly ineffective, and harmed the very people they were trying to help. An ugly choice. But it was wartime-when ugly choices get made."
Sisko was still not buying.
"The lives of millions of people, Sherm. That makes it a hard balance to put on your world's ledger. Tell me-did Bob Hogan ever accept that explanation?"
"No. Even blamed himself for a time. That's the kind of man he is. Never accepting what he's done as enough. Then one day, I reminded him of a simple fact. Ben, a soldier can only act on the information his superiors give him. If they are secretive-or talk in riddles-then a man can only make the best choice possible. Bob didn't care much for my words, then. But he says they helped him a month or so later, when they kicked in."
Sisko managed a light smile.
"Remind me to have The Padre time-nap you, next time I play Poker with Doctor Bashir."
Potter's smile was not so light.
"So long as you return the favor with me and Pierce-it's a deal."
A long month still lay ahead for Captain Benjamin Sisko. But that very night, after his talk with retired Colonel Sherman T. Potter of River Bend, Missouri, 1957 vintage-he began to dream of a desert- and a quest. For now, though, he saw a dangerous sky above him-and he had clams to shuck.
Inside the restaurant, Potter spoke with Joseph Sisko, also his descendant, and a man in whom Sherman's facial features were somewhat in evidence.
"Thanks for talking to Francis, Joe. I never imagined a man like Ben could be laid so low. I just wish I knew if I helped him any. But sometimes, a man just doesn't want any help."
Joseph nodded.
"But we both know, Sherm-that's when a man usually most desperately needs that help. Besides-I think you might have finally started him on the road back. I don't cherish sending him off to war, mind you. Then again, I never wanted him to join Starfleet to begin with."
Potter asked the obvious question.
"Why? Anti-Military?"
"Kind of. But really, it's a family matter."
On a small com-screen, Joseph pulled up an image. Sherman was confused.
"Joe-you just said you didn't care for Starfleet. But this is a picture of you in as ornate a uniform as this son of a vampire ever laid spectacles on."
"Son of a-? Never mind. Sherman, that man in the picture was my grandfather, Starfleet Grand Admiral Brock Cartwright. He nearly brought the Federation low, with his schemes. Made a devil's deal with the Klingons and Romulans, looking to start a war. Part of me fears Ben dying on me like poor, sweet Jennifer did. Part of me fears him taking Brock's path. Hell, I was nearly named after the bastard. I wish to God Almighty Ben weren't needed. But he is. We need him to send Dukat and his shapeshifting buddies straight to Hell. And God help me, because I never thought I'd come to think that way."
Sherman nodded, while Joseph cooked some ham on the grill.
"War is Hell, Joe. And we end up spending a lot more time there and taking a lot more of it with us than we'd ever like."
As Sherm ate with Joseph and Jake, he began to wonder where his time-ride was.
Francis didn't need to know that Winn Adami had packed the audience with her supporters. He could just tell. He didn't mind, though. The very best fights were staged before hostile crowds that the visiting fighter would win over.
Father Mulcahy didn't like thinking of it as a fight. But everything he had read, heard or seen about Kai Winn suggested that she always thought of it that way. Like his hero, The Gentleman Boxer, Francis always went into a fight prepared to win. But hopefully, he could do so without destroying the other boxer. This was the ideal, in any event.
Colonel Kira announced the beginning.
"We are truly blessed today, to hear an exchange of ideas between two people whose lives have been directly touched by The Blessed Prophets. There is Her Eminence, Kai Winn Adami, Leader Of The Revered Vedek Assembly, And The Voice Of Faith On Bajor."
Winn nodded, and was all calm and regal confidence as she ascended. She smiled at her 'children', and despite herself, Nerys was drawn in. She was The Kai, after all.
Then Kira remembered the school. Then the siege. Then the extortion that won her election. Then her overwork of the dying Bareil. Her failure to truly acknowledge Benjamin Sisko as The Emissary until The Lost City was staring her in the face. Even then, her talk was of all she herself had endured-never anyone else. Colonel Kira Nerys then had a vision of startling and frightening clarity : Winn Adami was going to dwell with The Pagh Wraiths, and now nothing could be done to avert that.
Gathering herself, she introduced her own favorite, a man whose view of faith was far closer to her own. Kira and Francis had different religions. But they both viewed Faith as having mysteries, of itself being a mystery. Like Vedek Yarka and Bareil himself, he was a man of humility and gentleness, not fixated on the need to be right.
"The Prophets have said that The Potter will build a vessel for The Emissary with The Clay provided for him by The Priest. While the deeper meanings of all that are lost on such as we, these things are known. Sherman Potter is ancestor and inspiration to Benjamin Sisko, The Prophets' chosen Emissary. A man who helped to inspire Potter was this man, Father John Francis Patrick Mulcahy, who belongs to a Terran sect of Christianity called Roman Catholicism. I know him to be a gentle and gracious man, and one who has never tried to proselytize me. I know one thing more. He was The Prophets' chosen vessel during The Last Struggle. Though they exist in our time still, at that time were The Pagh Wraiths destroyed forever. I give you The Priest."
Kira had left out her own contact with that strange but wonderful being, back in the Missouri of 1956. Francis had been possessed by The Prophets, who were Kira's gods. When Kira asked the being possessing her who 'he' was, the response was simple.
I Am That I Am.
Francis had been the vessel of The Prophets. Kira, if this being was to be believed, was the vessel of the being most Terrans knew simply as God. Even more startling was this being's claim that he was The Father Of The Prophets. It was a simple statement that either tied two great faiths together or shattered them both.
The Priest, as the challenged, spoke first.
"As a young boy in Pennsylvania, I stared out at the night sky, and I saw the stars that I now am out among. From here, my home is a star, and for that it has lost no wonder. I always thought I'd find God, if I could just travel out here. I now know that God is vaster than any distance, and greater than all the stars. Creation, however we believe it came together, is simply put-Vaster. Bigger than ourselves, and all our worries. Larger than concerns about whether a soft-boiled egg should be eaten from the top or bottom first. The rituals, the pomp, and the circumstance are to increase our understanding of creation. But Creation understands us just fine, thank you. It always has."
If Francis or Nerys expected Winn to open with a statement about fealty and devotion to The Prophets, they were both sadly mistaken.
"The Priest offers up the best his faith has to give. What a rosy, inclusive picture he paints. But what of women, Francis? What of your Church's stance that no woman could get to heaven except through a man?"
Francis nodded.
"A belief mostly discredited by my time, Eminence. I certainly do not hold it."
Winn smiled, her trap sprung.
"How enlightened of you. Especially considering that, in your year of 1957, women in your United States had only gained the right to vote some 37 years earlier. That your Church's stance on such things as reproductive rights-"
Francis cut her off, having been ready for at least that attack.
"...Is, Kai Winn, quite similar to Bajor's stance prior to The Occupation. Certain people were restricted in having children based on class and occupation. I believe it was called D'Jarra? It had other, most interesting restrictions. Should we talk them out as well?"
A bit stung, the Kai pressed forward on other fronts.
"I see Chief O'Brien and his wife are not here. Pity. I'm sure they'd love to tell us how Katherine Mulcahy O'Brien gave up being a Nun-A Holy Sister Of Your Faith-for despair of advancement, as much as any other reason?"
Francis finally saw where this was going, and liked it not at all.
"My sister left the habit for the love of Seamus O'Brien. I have never heard her give any other reason, and I am her brother. As her brother, Winn Adami, I'll kindly ask you to leave her, my parents, Miles, Keiko, and Molly-well out of this."
Kira interjected.
"Francis, you forgot Yoshi O'Brien."
"No, Kira, I did not. After all, Her Eminence would never involve an infant in her-fervent discussion."
The Kai shrugged.
"It merely seems to me that you have many things you fear talking about, Priest. Of course, history shows his Church is one of secrets and shames. The Donation Of Constantine-a mere real-estate fraud. The Inquisition-ritualized torture of those who disagreed. The Holocaust-a blind eye turned on so many fronts."
Rather than be baited in again, the Padre merely nodded.
"Go on."
The Kai shook her head.
"Go on? Oh, I could go on forever."
Well under her breath, Kira whispered.
"You got that right."
"But, I merely choose to conclude the body of my discourse with this small fact-and yes, Priest-it is about children. Shortly after your time, it will be revealed that a handful of Priests sexually molested small children and teenagers. Rather than imprisoning these monsters or forcing them to seek help, your Church merely reassigned them-quite regularly. Even when this shame was exposed, your Pontiff was quite slow to react. How do you answer for that crime?"
At that moment, Francis heard the voice of his hero, The Gentleman Boxer.
"Sometimes, kid-they don't leave you no choice. Maybe they got stones in their gloves-maybe they played with your shoes. Maybe they're sneakin' shots in below the belt, and the ref don't see it. You can try to show you're a boxer, and an athlete. But sometimes, ya gotta show em'-restraint means you don't want to - it doesn't mean you can't. Padre, put this bum away. She's wide open for a haymaker. She just don't know it."
Father Mulcahy shook his head.
"I answer by pleading guilty. But I'm very surprised at you, Kai Winn. For that crime is hardly at the pinnacle of my Church's wrongs. Are you holding back on me? I'm not fragile, you know."
Winn was drawn in by what she foolishly saw as an opening.
"I-was-unaware of any further malfeasance on the part of your Church, Francis. Would you care to enlighten us?"
What came next had its parallels in the Balboa-Drago fight of 1984.
"Yes. I will enlighten you. You see, in The Middle Ages on Earth, my Church wielded political power equal to its spiritual power. Well, such power corrupts even the holiest of people. The Church lost a great deal of respect, and many followers. When Rome made and broke kings-it lost the ability to carry out God's will. When America was founded, this was the reason why a wall was placed between Church and State. Not merely to protect the State. But to protect religion. If The Church is merely another political party-then its message is lost in the campaigns. Our crime was placing the two together as one. Such power in the hands of one or a few individuals-"
He looked directly at Winn.
"-leads invariably to war and disaster."
The Kai's mouth was wide open, but no words came from this woman who had tried very hard to achieve the kind of power that Francis had rightfully proclaimed impossible to wield justly and effectively.
"I call a recess. Priest-I would speak with you-privately."
Kira, joyful and triumphant, pointed towards the CO's office. The debaters went inside. Winn was blunt.
"You will go out there and concede the debate in front of everyone."
Francis puzzled at this.
"Why, Eminence, would I do such a thing?"
She smiled a cobra's smile.
"Are you fond of Kira Nerys?"
"Yes, of course. She's a dear girl."
"Do you wish her to be banished for her blasphemy? For believing in Gods other than the Prophets?"
Francis looked around the room in which he and Kira had spoken of her visions.
"Winn Adami-you have not won."
"Oh, haven't I, Priest?"
Francis shook his head, in sorrow for this little lost soul.
"No, you haven't. You see, you aren't the first to use surveillance devices on me, to spy on the sanctity of the confessional. I knew what sort you were-so I came prepared. Sadly, I must fight fire with fire."
Winn refused to believe him.
"You have nothing to fight me with. Nothing at all."
A voice from the shadows spoke out.
"But I do, Eminence."
The Kai shook with fear, at the sight of the man, hidden from view. The dead man.
"Bareil! No-this is a trick."
Vedek Bareil grinned.
"No trick, Adami. No Mirror duplicate. It's me-five weeks before my death. Oh, yes, I knew before I came on the station. But for the sake of the Bajora-I laid low. I took my silence to the grave. Silence about a slow-acting poison whose effects were exactly those of my apparent illness. Now I can go out there, and verify my identity-and then my story. In my time, I was afraid of splitting our faith, so soon after the Occupation. But if you so much as breathe in Nerys's direction - I will expose it all - and there are things and places and bodies that even you've forgotten about. Goodbye, now, Kai Winn. We will not see each other again. Take from that what you will."
Francis returned Bareil to his place and destiny.
"Thank you, Bareil."
"Francis, I do what I do for the good of Bajor. But-Prophets forgive me-it felt good, for once, to drag her off that pedestal she uses so often. I'm only glad Opaka never found out who succeeded her."
Francis nodded, and vanished. The Kai Winn of that timeframe then entered Bareil's office.
"Vedek Bareil, were you speaking with someone?"
"No one you'd care to know, Eminence."
Back in the relative present of DS9, Francis saw that Winn and her entourage had withdrawn. Kira remained, smiling as she had not for some time. Odo stood beside her, and addressed the Padre.
"Francis-you want to apply to my security staff? Because you sure know how to get rid of the troublemakers."
Francis smiled, having fought a draining but successful fight.
"Odo-compared to the bunch at the 4077th-your Kai is one big-creampuff!"
RIVER BEND, MISSOURA, 1957
Mildred Potter saw her husband and Francis walk in, Bajoran potatoes in hand, as promised.
"So, did you boys do anything interesting while in the 24th Century?"
The two shrugged, and looked at each other. They spoke as one.
"Nothing, really."