The Mist (20 page)

It felt very strange to just sit and watch a battle rage around us. It also felt strange to see Klingon battle cruisers and Federation starships fight Cardassian battle cruisers. I did not know then that what I was seeing was merely a taste of the future, of the battles we would find ourselves in a few months hence.

When I think of the beginning of that war, though, I do not think of the Dominion attacks or the agreement it made with Cardassia. I think of this moment, of the fleets fighting, because in some ways, this was the beginning.

Two minutes after the Klingons arrived, the Cardassians were retreating. They did not have the strength to battle Starfleet and Klingons. Not then. But this battle helped the Cardassians with future battle plans. Of that, I am now certain.

A number of their ships were heavily damaged. Dukat's flagship was leading the retreat.

Sotugh kept his ships in hot pursuit all the way to the Cardassian border, where they broke off the fight.

"Nice of the Klingons to help out like that," Dax said, breaking the silence of the bridge.

"It certainly was," I said.

Twenty

"HOW NICE OF you to acknowledge that," Sotugh said, sarcasm so great that Sisko half expected him to bow. "Here, at least."

"We acknowledged it there," Sisko said. "I'm telling you exactly what Dax said."

"I knew Dax as Curzon," Sotugh said. "He was rarely polite."

"You could say the same about Jadzia Dax," Sisko said. "She speaks her mind."

Sotugh inclined his head in Sisko's direction. It was, they both knew, Sotugh's way of letting bygones be bygones.

"So the story's over then," the wraith said.

"Weren't you paying attention?" the Quilli said. "The Defiant is still stuck in Mist space, perhaps permanently."

"It can't be permanent, or Sisko wouldn't be here," the middle-aged man said.

"You don't know that," the middle-aged woman said, jabbing him in the ribs. "For all we know, Sisko got his crew back to regular space and had to leave the Defiant behind."

"No captain would do that," Prrghh said.

"This place is a bit unusual," the wraith said, nodding toward Cap. "Perhaps Sisko came in from Mist space."

"I thought I was on Bajor," Sisko said.

"Blows that theory," the wraith said, shrugging. "So, how did you get the Defiant out? You had the only device on your ship."

"Not only that," Sisko said, "but we were nearly out of time. Even if we transferred the Madison back to Mist space, we would not have time to rig a device to her equipment."

The Klingons were after the Cardassians. There were other ships floating around Deep Space Nine, but none of them had the capabilities we needed. The debris from the destruction of Jackson's ships, and from the battle with the Grey Squadron, still drifted near us. The remaining Grey Squadron ships had not moved.

"Captain," Nog said. "Jackson is hailing us from Captain Victor's ship."

"Put him on screen," I said.

"Captain," Jackson said. "From the records on this ship, you were brought over to Mist space exactly one hour and fifty minutes ago."

"I know," I said. Getting us back to our own space was the next thing I had to do. "We're running out of time."

"You may already be out of time," Jackson said. "Nothing has ever remained in Mist space this long and been able to cross back to normal space."

"My doctor says we have two hours and six minutes," I said.

"Well," Jackson said, "what your doctor, able as he may be, says, and what our experience tells us, are two different things. I'm not even sure you should try this."

"Would you?" I asked.

Jackson flashed me that charismatic grin. "I tried to get out of here for two full months after I arrived."

"Well, then," I said, "we'll start beaming over the last of your people in anticipation of our departure. Are you ready to accept them?"

"We are," Jackson said. "And don't forget to remove the shift device and any other material that belongs in Mist space."

"He did not want you to have the technology," Sotugh said.

"It was a precaution," Sisko said, "and more than likely it allowed us to shift. Dr. Bashir told me later that if any Mist item or person had been left on board the Defiant, we would not have shifted."

"Fine," Sotugh said. "Believe what you want, but I do not."

Sisko only shrugged and went on.

"I'll remember," I said to Jackson, and had Nog cut the connection.

I stood and looked at the screen for a brief moment. Despite the debris, and the few Mist ships still floating around the station, it looked normal. The Cardassian fleet was out of visual range, and so were the Klingons.

Deep Space Nine, at least, had gone back to normal.

I hoped we could too.

I hit my comm badge, contacting the entire ship. "In exactly three minutes, Captain Jackson will shift us back to normal space. Every Mist resident and piece of equipment must be off this ship. This is priority one. Get to it, people."

"What exactly would happen if one of the Mist items remained?" the wraith asked.

"We weren't sure," Sisko said. "Beyond not being able to transfer. And just that was enough to worry me more than anything else."

"That must have been a scramble," Prrghh said. "Removing all that equipment and people."

Sisko smiled. "My crew is quite efficient," he said.

Dr. Bashir responded immediately. "Captain," he said. "You're going to have to beam most of these wounded directly out of sickbay. They're not yet able to go on their own."

"We'll beam them all," I said. "Make sure their clothes and every ounce of blood are either with them or in space away from the ship."

"Will do," Bashir said.

"Start getting Jackson's people out of here, old man," I said to Dax. "Put them on Jackson's bridge if you have to."

"Yes, sir," Dax said. "I have targeted their sickbay so that I'll be able to transfer the wounded directly."

"Do that first," I said. "I doubt you'll have time for any other precision maneuvers."

"You're probably right," she said, her fingers working her console as she spoke. Behind me, I could also hear Worf working. I knew that the other members of my crew were doing the same thing on different decks.

I hit my comm badge. "Chief, have you disconnected that shift device?"

"It'll take me at least ten minutes," he said. "If you want this ship working when it arrives home."

"I don't care if we're floating dead in space," I said. "You have two minutes. Do what you have to do."

"Yes, sir," O'Brien said.

I went to one of the consoles, and began beam-out work myself. I scanned the ship for foreign objects, using a parameter program that Dax had designed when she was looking for the shifting device in the debris. I found items scattered all over the Defiant, and I knew that other members of my crew were doing so as well.

I worked quickly we all did and because I was working quickly, I didn't have time to reflect. That was a good thing; I would have been worrying whether Dr. Bashir was right or whether John David Phelps Jackson was right. I was hoping that Bashir was right, that we had the full two hours, but common sense told me that Jackson had the edge.

It concerned me that no one had left Mist space after spending this much time in it. It would be hard to see our world and not be able to interact in it. In fact, I have always believed that would have been the hardest part of all.

Watching, but never being able to even say hello.

"Benjamin," Dax said, "we have less than a minute."

I left my console and went back to my command chair, hitting my comm badge on the way. "This is the last warning, people."

"Ready, sir," Bashir's voice said through the comm line.

"Chief?"

"Twenty more seconds," O'Brien said. He sounded frantic.

"Cadet," I said, "connect me to Jackson."

"Aye, sir," Nog said.

According to Dr. Bashir's original calculations, we had two minutes left.

Within seconds, Jackson's frowning face appeared on screen. Behind him, I could see members of his crew crowding the bridge. "I think it has been too long, Captain," he said.

"My people assure me we have two minutes to spare," I said. "Are you ready to send us home?"

"Ready when you are," Jackson said.

"Do it quickly," I said.

"Captain," he said, bowing his head slightly, "thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, not at all graciously. We could forgo the niceties as long as the Defiant went back to her own space. "Now get us back where we belong and we'll call it even."

He nodded and the screen went back to showing Deep Space Nine. The station looked so close, and yet so impossibly far away.

"Everything's off the ship, Captain," Dax said.

"Very good, old man," I said.

At that moment, a white line formed directly in front of the Defiant, then expanded and moved back over the ship, covering us. I felt a slight twisting of my stomach, and space itself seemed to shimmer. My hands looked indistinct, and the bridge seemed to fade slightly.

Or maybe I only imagined that change.

I never checked.

Jackson's ship was gone.

"Well?" I said, my mouth dry.

"We're in normal space," Dax said, turning and smiling.

"Excellent," Worf said.

"Yes," Cadet Nog said, holding up a fist. "For a moment, I thought I would never see my father again."

"Or my son," I said softly. I had managed to avoid that thought throughout this ordeal, but now that it was over, I felt incredible relief, and I knew that my greatest worry had been leaving Jake forever.

Then, at that moment, something happened that I never would have expected. A white line formed in front of us, expanding into a cloud and covering the Defiant.

Suddenly Jackson's ship was there. And no one needed to tell any of us that we were again in Mist space.

"What did he do?" the Quilli asked, shaking its tiny paws.

"Was he as tricky as Captain Victor?" the middle-aged man at the bar asked.

"They couldn't have developed another crisis that fast," the Trill said.

"I know," the wraith said. "You snapped back because you had been there too long."

"No," Prrghh said. "They had to have brought him back."

"But why?" Robinson asked.

Sisko smiled at their reactions. They were remarkably similar to the reactions on his bridge. Sisko held up his hand for silence. "I'll tell you," he said.

"I do not like this," Worf said.

"Captain," O'Brien's voice came over the comm. "Is everything all right?"

"I'll let you know, Chief," I said. I stood, arms crossed. I hadn't even had a chance to get used to being in my own space.

"Jackson is hailing us, sir," Cadet Nog said.

"Put him on screen," I said.

Later, Dax told me I did not speak the words. I just growled them.

The screen filled with Jackson, and his crowded bridge. He was grinning that infectious grin, and his dark eyes twinkled.

I did not know how to react to that. So I asked the question I had planned. "Did something go wrong?"

"You returned just fine to normal space," he said, his grin growing as he spoke. "Your bodies were reset by the process. You again have two hours in Mist space."

"Wonderful," Dax said softly.

"Then what do you need us for?" I asked. "Is there some unfinished business here?"

"Actually, Captain, there is," Jackson said. "Since you had to leave in such a hurry, there was a group that wanted to thank you. And the only way they could do that was for me to bring you back across one last time."

Even as annoyed as I was, I smiled at that.

"Please stand by," Jackson said.

A moment later the screen filled with the images of six robed figures. They were egg-shaped and their skin was a filmy white, as opaque as fog yet as see-through as mist burning off on a summer morning. They had standard features, but they were distorted, almost as if they couldn't hold their shape. These six figures obviously belonged to the original Mist race.

"I thought Näna was part of that race," Sotugh said.

"I did too until that moment," Sisko said. "He was a member of some other race that had transferred over, just like the humans and the strange-looking Klingons."

"You may allude to that all you want," Sotugh said, "but I will not tell you about those Klingons. It is not something we discuss with outsiders."

"Did they really want to say thank you?" the Quilli asked.

Sisko nodded.

The nearest figure floated toward the screen. That is the only way I can describe his movement. It was too smooth to be a walk.

"Captain Sisko," the figure said. It had an androgynous voice with a bit of a quaver, as if it were speaking through water. "I am Councillor Ell-Lee of the Mist High Council."

"Pleased" was all I could think to say.

"We asked Jackson," Councillor Ell-Lee said, "to bring you back to our space one last time for two reasons. First, we would like to thank you for stopping Captain Victor and Councillor Näna. In thousands of years of Mist history, this is the first time something like this has happened. We are profoundly embarrassed."

"No need to be," I said. "We are sorry that it happened too, but we are glad that everything could be resolved."

"Embarrassment is a good emotion," Ell-Lee said. "It tends to stop a repeat of the same action."

I laughed. "True enough."

Ell-Lee smiled. Or, at least I think it smiled.

"So, Captain, from all of the council and the hundreds of worlds of the Mist that we represent, we thank you."

"You are quite welcome," I said, bowing formally.

Dax looked at me, a slight smile on her face. Later, she would tease me for my formal reaction. But this did seem to be a formal occasion. It isn't often that we get thanked for doing our jobs.

Ell-Lee's smile faded. It raised its hands. "Our second reason is a simple one. We would like you to take a message to your government, and that of the Klingon High Council."

"Gladly," I said.

"Please convey to your governments that such actions that happened today will not take place again. We have no hostile intentions with the Federation or the Klingon Empire and simply wish to be left alone."