Lost Time (3 page)

“
Are you okay?
” Nog shouted even though it was perfectly silent now. “
What happened? Are you all right? What the hell
happened?”

Soloman cleared his throat. “I am fine, Lieutenant. If you would not mind getting off, please?”

“Oh.”
Nog rolled off, then extended a hand and helped Soloman, who’d activated his boots, clamber to his feet.
“Sorry. It’s just that my tricorder registered a spike in your chip, and then you started screaming and I…”

“I apologize,” said Soloman, embarrassed that he’d been so public with something so very private. “It is only…this datastream is a search program and I found a synchronization signature. A Bynar signature.”

“What? A
Bynar?” Nog was goggle-eyed.
“Who?”

“One-one-zero,” said Soloman. “The person on the other end of this datastream is…it…it is I.”

“G
ive that to me again, Soloman.”
Gold’s voice was measured and Soloman did not detect that his captain thought he had gone insane.
“A search program in a parallel timeline?”

“Yes, Captain.” Soloman and Nog were still in Empok Nor’s ops. “We can agree that parallel universes and worlds within worlds contain all possible arrangements of matter, yes?”

“I got that.”

“Time is just a concept, a way of ordering matter in a sequence our minds can handle. There is no time. There are events that occur in a multiverse upon which we impose order.”

“That’s a relief,”
said Hawkins, who’d come running as soon as Nog called for help.
“There are a couple of dates I’d like to
—”

“Stow it,”
said Gold. An audible sigh.
“Soloman, what are you talking about here? Time travel?”

“No, what I am saying is that the multiverse is fixed. The fact that I accessed my own synchronization signature, even for an instant, implies that I have tapped into another point in the timeline of a parallel universe. I have found myself somewhere and some
when
else. Therefore, I can commune with this 110 at another point in
his
universe and determine what it is that 110 is searching for.”

“For all you know, son, that is precisely what the Androssi want you—and us—to believe. Remember, the Androssi programmed their sentry security systems to respond to our combadge codes. Anyone smart enough to design this code or whatever it is where
da Vinci
has been before had to bet we’d be back when things went haywire.”

That stopped Soloman for a moment. “That is a possibility I had not considered.”

“You’d better. You’re proposing that you commune with…well, with an alien. We won’t even call 110 a mirror—you. He’s his own person. He represents forks in the roads you did not take and some you can’t imagine.”

“For that matter,”
Nog said,
“how do we know that the Bynars there even call themselves Bynars, or think the same way? Maybe
they’re
the quantum computers: all things at once.”
The Ferengi had recovered from his initial panic and was busily collating the information he’d stored from Soloman’s foray into Empok Nor’s computer.
“There may not even be a Federation. He—if it
is
a he—won’t know what we’re talking about. We’ve had some experience on DS9 with mirror universes—from the reports I’ve read, we shouldn’t assume
anything.”

“That may be true, Lieutenant, but we must try,” said Soloman. “That 110 bears some trace of who I am, or else I would not have recognized myself, correct? This is our best option.”

“Or a booby trap.”
This, from Gomez down at the fusion core where she and Conlon were halfway through rigging up the generators.
“Soloman, you’ll be making a choice. Once you do this, we’re locked in because everything will change around what you do. How do you know this is the right way?”

“I do not. But it
is
a choice.”

“So is not taking it.”

Gold said,
“There’s something else. If you’ve reached, well, you and this 110 is still Bynar enough that you recognize you—he’s probably bonded, right? To his own 111? And if he is, wouldn’t you also have picked up her synchronization signature?”

It was the question he had been waiting for, and he knew what he would say. There were, in fact, two questions. But Soloman knew that Captain Gold did not have enough information to ask one of them. Indeed, it would never occur to Captain Gold to ask because the Bynars of
his
universe did not possess the ability. (The ability was there: alien and utterly surreal in its intimacy.) Soloman wondered if he would feel differently about himself afterward, and decided that this was a risk he was willing to take. So, he took it.

“No,” Soloman lied. “I did not.”

O
n red alert, the light crimson as blood, their alarm klaxons screaming, they slammed to port and let gravity work for them. The ship spun so quickly that Bajor flashed by in a swirl of blue ocean and white clouds, and then they were roaring past the station, picking up speed, hammering on full impulse, trying to get enough distance to go to warp. A risky thing and some kind of crappy odds, pushing the
Gettysburg
nose-first toward Bajor and then angling off, using gravity as a slingshot to hurl them out of high orbit and past the station, but the ship was getting pretty banged up, and Captain David Gold was outnumbered: a
Keldon
-class warship and two
Hideki
-29 class ships on their tail. But if he was lucky, Bajor’s gravity well would snatch at those bursts of disruptor fire, and they might just pull off this cockamamie heist.

But then McAllan shouted a warning and Gold spun in his command chair; saw the
Keldon
-class warship coming for them on an intercept course, right between the eyes. His stomach bottomed out. “Helm, evasive maneuvers! Keep our aft shields to them!”

“Trying, Captain!” Wong’s teeth were set, and the cords of his neck bulged as if he could move the stubborn ship by wishing it so. “That last disruptor hit tagged our starboard maneuvering thrusters; they’re really slow, and she’s sluggish on the turn, I can’t—”

Gold cut him off with a savage cut of his hand. “McAllan, what about my torpedoes?”

“Torpedoes still offline, sir!” At tactical, immediately behind Gold’s command chair, McAllan’s square features were set in intense concentration, his fingers flying over his weapons console. “Working to restore, but I’ve got phasers back!”

“Then what the hell are you waiting for, an invitation?
Fire phasers!
” Gold bellowed. He turned back just in time to see an emerald-green glitter, and then he was out of his chair. “Wong! Hard to port, hard—”

A series of disruptor salvoes burst over the ship’s hull. The impacts were like being punched broadside in rapid fire. The
Gettysburg
bucked, shimmied; Gold felt the deck jitter, and he would’ve fallen if his XO hadn’t snagged him.

“Damage report, Lieutenant McAllan,” said his XO.

“Hull breach on decks twenty through twenty-five, Commander. Starboard shields are forty percent and our inertial dampers will not survive another salvo.”

“Starboard maneuvering thrusters are out, Captain,” said Wong.

A hail sliced the air. “
Captain, this is Gomez. We’ve got a plasma leak. I’m going to have to vent her if you want to get out of here in one piece. But you’ve got to move us to a more stable region of space. All that weapons fire out there, it’ll touch off that plasma like
—”

“Incoming message,” McAllan broke in. “Terok Nor, Captain.”

“Let him cool his thrusters,” said Gold. “Gomez, prepare to vent on
my
mark, you got that?” Then, to McAllan: “When I give the word, you touch off phasers.”

“Phasers, sir? But with the plasma…” Then McAllan’s face brightened. “Roger that, sir.”

“Attaboy.” Gold looked at Wong. “You clear?”

Wong was already busy inputting coordinates. “Crystal. Just give the word.”

“Count on it.” Gold nodded, tugged on his uniform shirt, and turned toward the viewscreen. “Onscreen.”

The viewscreen shimmered; a face blurred, then coalesced into features Gold recognized. “What do you want, Garak?”

“Why, Captain Gold.”
Gul Garak’s oily tenor undulated from the speakers.
“You astound me. Isn’t it obvious? You stole something, naughty you, and now I’d like it back. You do that and I’d be ecstatic to order my ships to stand down.”

“So generous. Let me guess: In exchange for your magnanimity, I presume I’ll be your guest and will be…
convinced,
in the most subtle ways you can devise, to hand over the precise location of all of Starfleet’s forces in this sector, right?”

“Not only a brave captain but a mind reader, as well. Ah, Gold, you are a treasure. You never fail to astound me. Not as cultured as Picard by any means, may he rest in peace, but still very charming in your way.”

“I notice that your high esteem for Picard didn’t exactly translate into any unwillingness to execute him.”

“You wound me.”
Garak placed both hands over his left breast.
“When it was over, I was stricken for at least an hour. Picard was such an interesting conversation-alist, too. So bookish. Not nearly the boor Dukat was
—
and, oh my, such language! That man did have a mouth. Assassinating Dukat was a matter of self-preservation, I assure you.”

“No doubt. I hear Dukat was pretty well off, too.”

“Yes, indeed. You may rest easy that his fortune was divided fairly among his various friends. And his command, well, let us just say that I feel the weight of my responsibilities here on Terok Nor. Fortunately, Dukat’s very own, very special comfort woman is quite…well…honestly, I blush.
”

“Spare me the details. I can’t imagine the Bajorans being anything
but
hospitable and oh-so-comforting to their paid thugs.”

“Captain, you cut me to the quick. You know very well that we are here at the invitation of the Bajorans. It is you who trespass. But, oh, bother the details. Let’s bury the hatchet, shall we? Why don’t you stand down and beam on over to Terok Nor? We’ll chat over a nice snifter of Lakatian brandy: an excellent vintage, astounding nose, and the finish! To die for.”

“In the words of an exceedingly bright engineer…up your shaft, Garak.”

“Such a consummate wit. Captain Gold, I shall very much regret killing you. It will pain me, truly.”

“Not half as much as this will,” said Gold. He turned to McAllan. “
Now.
”

On cue, McAllan cut the channel; Garak’s face winked out; and Gold whirled on his heel. “Wong, show these bastards our sweet pink
asses!
McAllan, aft shields; give them all you’ve got! Gomez!”

“On it, sir! Venting now…done!”

“Fire phasers! Wong, warp three,
now!
”

Suddenly, the space around the
Keldon
flashed as McAllan touched off phasers into a swirl of vented plasma. The plasma pillowed into a mushrooming orange-red cloud; the
Keldon
and
Hideki
s disappeared in the fiery slurry of ignited plasma and gas, and the glare was so bright Gold blinked, looked away. In the same instant, Wong whirled the ship to starboard and the
Gettysburg
shot into warp.

“Are they away?” From his office in Terok Nor, Gul Elim Garak watched space ignite. His predominant emotion was a grudging sort of admiration. “Zotat, are they away?”

“They’re gone.”
Zotat’s reply sputtered amid pops of ionization static.
“Shall we give chase?”

“No, no.” Garak raised a finger in admonishment. “Let the brave captain and his crew go. We’ll be meeting them again, very soon. Take up your stations at your prearranged coordinates and signal the other vessels to do likewise. I will notify you when it is time. Garak out.”

In the silence that followed, Garak raised a snifter of very old, very fine Lakatian brandy to his visitor in the chair opposite. “A toast.”

“Indeed.” The Androssi overseer was male and slim with a skin tone that was more gray than yellow. Unlike many of his kind, his face was clean-shaven, but his hair was a lush mane that stretched beyond his waist in a darkly amber cascade that he wore loose—again, not like others of his kind. His right and left nostrils bristled with an array of five nose rings that bespoke his position. “Isn’t celebration a bit premature?”

“What, you doubt the abilities of the Bynars?”

“What I doubt is that the Bynars have the necessary skills to utilize the device to our advantage. That would be…unfortunate.”

“But not irreparable. And if the Bynars succeed!” Garak flashed a grin that was all teeth. “Think of what we shall deliver to the Bajoran Assembly in a mere twenty hours. A treaty
and
their gods: Not even the religious caste can argue with that. I drink to your health, Overseer—and to David Gold, noble captain, patron saint of lost causes.”

Garak tipped his snifter to his mouth. The nut-flavored liquor was smooth and warmed a track to his belly. Garak released a sigh of pure contentment. “Who says religion and politics don’t mix?”

Still blinking away stars, Gold thumbed a tear from his left cheek. His eyes stung. “Pursuit?”

McAllan studied his boards, then shook his head. “They’re not after us.”

“Good. Stand down from red alert. Tell Gomez to get on that plasma leak. Wong, how long to rendezvous?”

“Three hours, forty-seven minutes, sir.”

“Very well.” Gold nodded at his communications officer. “Haznedl, get a message to Kira. Tell her we’ll be at the rendezvous point in four hours.”

“That ruse will only work once, Captain,” said Gold’s XO. He was about as nonplussed as Gold had ever seen him: sweating so much that the man’s black hair gleamed like a skullcap. “Garak will not make the same mistake again.”

“I’m kinda amazed he made it the first time. Garak doesn’t make mistakes.”

He was cut off by the shrill of a hail.
“Bridge, this is sickbay.”
An eerie, high-pitched wail on the channel, and then the sound suddenly grew distanced and muffled, as if the person had been moved into another room.
“You’ve got to get down here right now.”

“Sickbay?” Gold’s XO arched an eyebrow, his left. “How many casualties, Dr. Kane?”

A snort.
“Enough to keep me busy, that’s for sure. But that’s not why I’m calling. Captain Gold, it’s the Bynars.”

Gold groaned. “Oh, no.”
Damn, that would be perfect; just perfect. We go through all this and then the damn Bynars can’t even commune with the thing…
“Are they hurt?”

“We don’t know.”
Another voice: female, taut with urgency.
“The Bynars were communing with that device…and now 110’s unresponsive.”

“Unresponsive?”

“Like in a coma, sir,”
said Kane.

“What?” Gold and his XO exchanged glances. “Dax, what happened?” asked Gold.

“I don’t know,”
said Dax.
“But we’ve got to figure this out, and fast. The Bynars are the key to finding the wormhole, I’m sure of it. Only…”

“What?”

“Well, 111 says there was somebody there, in the datastream. Captain, she’s totally hysterical. She says the Bynar’s a singleton, and he’s got a name.”

“Not a designation?” said the XO.

“No, a name; 111 said he was very specific. Only she’s so upset, I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. But without the Bynars, Captain…it’s over.”

This was true. There was dead silence as Gold and his XO looked at one another. Then Commander Salek said, “Actually, I believe the expression is…we’re
shtuped.
”