The Mist (5 page)

Then I signaled Nog to continue the sound as if it had not been cut off. I finished my scan of the bridge and turned back to the screen.

"Satisfied, Captain?" Victor said to me. "Do you see now that the others believe you are gone?"

"What I see," I said calmly, even though I was not feeling calm, "is that somehow our signals and signatures are not reaching the others. I am not prepared to say that we have vanished."

Then I made a show of turning to Nog. "Answer the station, Cadet. Give them our location, and tell them that, for the moment, we are all right."

"Aye, sir," Nog said, looking at me rather strangely. It was Starfleet protocol to answer any emergency hail. I could tell from his expression that he had already done so and had received no response. I did not care. I wanted him to do so again, while Victor and Näna watched, so that we could observe any manipulation they might be causing. Perhaps our equipment would be able to locate what was causing the change in instruments.

For that was all I believed it to be, at the time. My mind did not accept that entire planetary systems could be invisible. I believed we were in the grip of a massive, and highly advanced, cloaking system. I knew that some planets had their own cloaking system, and we had, of course, the technology to cloak ships. It was a small stretch to believe that we could cloak entire areas of space as well.

A small stretch was all that I was willing to take.

"You know they can't hear you," Captain Victor said.

I felt my eyes narrow and my entire face become rigid. Whenever I got that look, my wife used to say, entire galaxies would crumble.

Captain Victor did not flinch. I decided to say nothing to him at the moment. Nothing would be more productive than the things I was thinking.

I turned to Nog, partly to prevent myself from saying anything to Victor. "Is there any response, Cadet?"

"No, sir," Nog said.

"Commander Worf, what about the Klingons?" I asked.

If I looked angry, Worf looked thunderous. "We are sending, sir, but there is no response. They, too, are acting as if we have disappeared."

"You have," Captain Victor said, his smile reaching his blue eyes almost as laughter.

I wanted to cut off all communication with that man. But I did not. I continued to ignore him, until I could put the situation back under my control.

"Check everything," I ordered my staff. "And keep trying to hail the station and the Klingons."

Then I turned back to face the screen. "All right, Captain," I said, with a slight sarcastic emphasis on the word Captain. "You seem to have all the answers. Share them."

"Gladly, Captain," Victor said. He glanced at his companion. Councillor Näna had still said nothing. His round mouth opened and closed occasionally, as if the movement were involuntary.

"A few moments ago," Victor said, "you couldn't see our ship or our homeworlds, could you?"

"No," I said. I knew what he was going to say, and I knew it would not be the answer I wanted. I wanted whys, not whats.

"Now," he said, "you and your fine ship have simply moved into our reality."

"The shimmering opening," O'Brien murmured.

Victor heard him. "It is a sort of doorway."

"It is not that simple," I said, this time letting the anger I felt punctuate each word. It was as if I put a space between each one.

"No, it's not," Victor said. "I would gladly explain everything to you, including our motives. But I think it might be better if you first moved your ship out of your current position."

"You want us out of your doorway," I said, not willing to move. I wanted to get out of there, and to do so now. I did not like how any of this was going.

Captain Victor laughed. "Of course not. That opening can be made anywhere with the right equipment. I'm just trying to save you some massive disorientation when the Klingon ships arrive."

At that moment, I did not understand what he meant. I would shortly.

"We've handled Klingons before," I said. "We will stay right here."

"Be my guest," Captain Victor said, shrugging as if he really didn't much care. "We'll move a short distance away and stand by. We've found it's just easier."

"Easier than what?" I asked.

"You'll see," Victor said, and then winked off the screen. In his place, his beautiful spaceship appeared, with the stars beyond it. The ship was moving slightly.

I sighed. "Once," I said, "just once, I would like to encounter a strange group who did not enjoy being mysterious."

No one laughed. No one was supposed to.

I sat down in my command chair, and surveyed the bridge. My crew was working as efficiently as always, but beneath that efficiency was a tension that I had seldom felt before.

"What are our new friends doing, Mr. Worf?" I asked.

"They appear to be changing position," he said.

"Just like Captain Victor said they would," Dax said.

I nodded.

"Captain," Worf said, "the Klingon ships are still heading this way."

"Have they responded to our hails yet?" I asked.

"No, sir, but they are heading directly for us."

"Is this some type of battlefield behavior that I'm not familiar with, Mr. Worf?"

"No, sir."

I frowned. "Let me know when they get here."

"Aye, sir," Worf said.

"Still no response from Deep Space Nine, sir," Nog said, anticipating my next question.

"The station is acting exactly by the book," Dax said, "following procedures that indicate there's an emergency on a ship. To the station we've gone missing."

I nodded as on the screen the alien ship turned like a bird on a gentle wind and moved off at slow impulse.

"Keep a very close eye on them, Mr. Worf," I said.

"I have been, Captain," Worf said. Then he bent his head slightly. "Captain, the Klingon ships will arrive in less than a minute. They are heading directly for our position."

"Hail them, Cadet. On all channels. Priority one."

"Yes, sir," Nog said.

I drummed my fingers on the arm of my chair. Victor wanted us to move out of the way of the Klingons. He knew that something was going to happen. Perhaps the Klingons couldn't see us. But they would be able to read our energy signature. Klingons knew how to search for cloaked ships.

"I'm getting no response, sir," Nog said.

"Captain," Worf said, "the Klingon ships are approaching uncloaked and fast. They have shields up, but have no weapons powered."

"Acting as if they don't see us," Dax said to herself.

"Hold this position. These are the last coordinates they had for us. They will search for us here," I said. "And continue hailing both the station and the approaching Klingon ships."

"Yes, sir," Nog said.

"Klingon ships dropping to impulse, slowing," Dax said.

That was what I had wanted to hear. I had expected it, but I was relieved nonetheless. The alien ship had settled into a position some distance from its original spot, but it was still close to us.

"Cadet, have you reached the Klingon ships?" I asked.

"No, sir. There's still no response." Nog's voice went up as it usually did when he panicked. But he was working hard, no matter how out of control he sounded.

"The lead Klingon ship is a Vor'Cha-class battle cruiser, the Daqchov," Worf said. "HoD Sotugh in command. He is not usually like this. He is quite responsive"

"Too fast!" Dax said. "Two thousand meters and closing too fast. They don't see us."

I had not expected this. I had thought they would come near these coordinates, not fly through them. "Get us out of their way!"

My order came too late.

As the Defiant moved, the Daqchov suddenly was on top of us, and then without the slightest hint of impact, we were inside the Daqchov.

Not just rammed through the side, but we actually passed through their hull. For a brief instant I got a glimpse of Sotugh sitting in his command chair, seemingly interested in his viewscreen, but clearly not braced for any impact.

Then a wave of nausea swept over me, as if the entire world had been turned inside out, along with the insides of my ear. I had no memory of ever being so dizzy before. The ship spun, and I had to cling to my command chair to keep my balance.

The rest of the crew was clinging too.

We were all superimposed on the inside of the Daqchov. It was as if the Daqchov had swallowed the Defiant, as if we all occupied the same space, like two holographic images, one on top of the other.

As we moved apart, Klingon hands went through me, Klingon equipment slid through my chair, and Klingon hull went through our bridge.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, the Daqchov was gone, back outside in space where it belonged.

"Damage reports?" I asked, my voice clear despite my dizziness.

"None, Captain." Dax sounded as shaky as I felt. Shaky and shocked.

My eyes had not lied to me. Part of the Klingon ship had passed right through the Defiant without any impact. That wasn't possible, yet my eyes and my twisted stomach told me it was.

Somehow, the Defiant had become a ghost ship.

And we were all the ghosts.

"Ghosts?" the catlike woman said. "But you weren't dead." She plucked on his sleeve to emphasize her point. "How could you be a ghost?"

Sisko smiled. The entire crowd in the bar was watching him. Most had empty glasses or mugs. He suspected Cap was not happy about that.

"Believe me, I wondered," Sisko said. "All that training from my Earth upbringing. All those superstitions rose in my head and were as quickly discarded. But they were there. I wondered if perhaps we had died and had not known it."

"Amazing," the woman at the bar said.

"Later," Sisko said, "Chief O'Brien said he had wondered the same thing. Worf seemed quite shocked as well. I know that the Klingons are superstitious people, but he has never spoken of that moment. Nog could not keep quiet about it when we returned to the station, and it was there I learned that the Ferengi view of the afterlife is, as we all suspected, different from ours. It has something to do with profit and latinum and nothing to do with ghosts."

"So what had actually happened?" asked the middle-aged man at the bar.

"I'll get to that," Sisko said, "as soon as everyone has a moment to refill their drinks." He looked around the bar to see where he could get rid of some of his.

"Cap," he said as he stood. "Would it be possible to get something to snack on while I finish this?"

"This story will take forever the way he is telling it," Sotugh said. "You had better feed us."

Cap smiled.

Sisko got out of his chair. His body creaked slightly. He had been sitting awhile. Sotugh was right; it was taking him a while to tell this story. But then, it had taken time to happen. His audience seemed interested, and as long as he had them, he could tell the story the way he wanted to.

He scanned the bar for the rest room.

Cap noticed what he was doing and nodded toward the back of the bar.

Sisko walked past the serving station, past some stairs, and across from a storage room he found the bathroom. He wasn't the only one who needed to use it; it seemed his entire audience stood after he did, using his break as an excuse for one of their own.

When he returned, the drinks were replenished, and bowls of bright green Betazoid fruitnuts graced each table. Sotugh had clearly complained about the choice. Before him, Cap had placed some bregit lung, a Klingon dish I hadn't thought possible to get in a bar like this on Bajor.

Another bottle of Jibetian ale sat in front of Sisko's place. He had had more to drink since he'd come in here than he'd had in months, but he wasn't feeling any effects yet. He wondered if it would hit him all at once.

He decided that he didn't care. Bashir had ordered him to relax and that was what he was doing. If they needed him, they knew where to find him.

"Where was I?" he asked as he sat down.

"Ghosts," several people said at once.

He smiled again. "Ah, yes," he said, and continued.

Our ships had separated, but my crew and I were still feeling the effects of the strange collision. We were all dizzy. Chief O'Brien was a pale shade of green. Cadet Nog had his hands on his lobes, as if he were trying to balance himself by holding his ears in a level position. At that moment, if that had worked for humans, I would have done the same thing.

Dizziness for a human is bad. I imagine that for a Ferengi it is intol-erable.

Worf was clutching both sides of his console, but staring straight ahead.

Dax had her head bent, her eyes closed.

We all seemed to breathe in at the same time, to exhale together, as we tried to readjust our systems. Mine came under control quickly. Cadet Nog did not seem so lucky.

I was about to say something when the door to the turbolift opened, and our ship's doctor, Julian Bashir, staggered onto the bridge. He looked almost as green as the chief.

"What in heaven's name was that?" he asked. He put a hand out, used one of the consoles to keep his balance, and then steadied himself. "One moment I was getting sickbay ready, the next thing I know, sickbay has been invaded by a Klingon ship, and then suddenly, the thing is gone. What happened?"

"I'll tell you as soon as we know, Doctor," I said. "Dax, where are the Klingons now?"

"Setting up positions two thousand meters from our present location."

"Keep an eye on them. I don't want a repeat of that."

"Neither do I," Dax said.

Nog was leaning against his console to keep his head from moving. "Captain," he said, his voice a shadow of its former self, "Captain Victor is hailing us."

"Put him on screen," I said.

This time, the screen filled with Victor's face. I could not see the rest of his bridge or Councillor Näna. Victor pretended to show concern, but his blue eyes were twinkling. I didn't like or trust this man.

"Mistrusting him seems appropriate to me," Sotugh muttered into his blood wine. "You should have shot him on sight."

Sisko grinned at Sotugh. "That seemed appropriate to me too. But Starfleet wouldn't have approved."