CHAPTER 21

NOG DROPPED a battered piece of metal onto the table in the unfinished conference room of the Phoenix.

It was a dedication plaque.

Its significance was lost on Jake, who looked at Jadzia and Bashir to see if they understood.

From the expressions on their faces, they apparently did.

Jadzia was the first to pick up the plaque and study it closely.

Jake noticed that Karon, the Romulan centurion at the head of the table and the leader of the team that had taken control of the Phoenix, was studying Jadzia just as intently, as if she expected some type of treachery.

After a few moments, the Trill passed the damaged rectangle of metal to Bashir, then looked at Nog. “I take it you've run a complete molecular scan to be certain it's not simply a replicated copy.”

“I studied it atom by atom,” Nog said. “It is the same plaque that is now on display on the bridge of this ship, except it is 25,627 years older. And, of course, its condition has been somewhat altered by . . . a variety of mishaps.”

Nog's hesitation raised in Jake the desire to know exactly what those mishaps had been. He looked quickly at Centurion Karon, but she didn't seem to have noticed the pause in Nog's delivery.

“So the Phoenix crashes on a moon in the Bajoran system,” Bashir said angrily. “That could mean this ship was damaged after we deployed the deep-time charges and we scuttled it where no one would find it.”

Nog laid his hands on the tabletop and spoke forcefully. “Doctor, the Romulans have recovered almost forty percent of the ship. There are components from all of the deep-time charges we're currently carrying. That means we did not deploy the charges. And that means our mission will be a failure—because it already was.”

“And you believe the Romulans?” Bashir asked, his sarcasm leaving no doubt as to what he thought the answer was.

Centurion Karon responded before Nog could. “Dr. Bashir, I understand your reluctance to trust us. If you were Vulcan, I would call upon your logic. But as it is, I shall ask you to employ that human characteristic known as ‘common sense.’

“The mission of the Phoenix as planned makes good sense—to stop the Ascendancy without changing the timeline. Surely it is to all our advantages for it to succeed. The Star Empire—old or new—would embrace that result.

“The facts, however, indicate that this mission will fail. That suggests that sometime in the next six standard days the universe will end, as the Ascendancy plans. Our position then becomes, why waste this resource, this magnificent vessel? As much as it distresses us, changing the timeline is preferable to allowing the universe to die.”

Jake wasn't an expert, but he had heard his father discuss the terrible equations of the Dominion War with Admiral Ross. And he had come to believe as his father did: There was no escaping the fact that in order to accomplish good, sometimes bad things had to happen.

In the case of the war to save the Federation, that had meant that soldiers had to die. And Jake could see the same inescapable equation at work here. “It makes sense to me,” he said quietly, and was suddenly aware of everyone in the room staring at him. “I mean, if I had the chance to take back some tragedy by changing time, I'd do it.”

“Even if it meant wiping yourself from existence?” Bashir asked.

“If the tragedy was big enough, I'd have to, wouldn't I? Wouldn't all of us?”

Karon nodded approvingly at him. “This young man is correct. What we are proposing is no different from sending a group of Imperial Commandos on a one-way mission to inflict terrible damage on an enemy and thereby win a war. Perhaps we will die, but billions more will live because of our sacrifice. Perhaps trillions.”

Jake didn't understand why Jadzia hadn't yet offered her opinion, and why Bashir now seemed unwilling to say more.

Karon tried to prompt a reaction from them. “Dr. Bashir, Commander Dax, you and your fellow travelers through time were willing to risk your lives for the mission of the Phoenix. Why are you not willing to risk your lives on a plan that has a real chance of success?”

“Maybe because it's a Romulan plan,” Bashir said. “And I'm just not comfortable with taking this ship back twenty-five years into the past and laying waste to an entire world.”

At that, Karon rose abruptly from the table, the sound of her chair echoing harshly in the unfinished room, and Jake could see her hands were clenched into fists at her side. “I apologize for being Romulan. But I invite you to work through the problem yourselves. One world and twenty-five years balanced against the universe and infinity. Which would you choose if I had been human, Doctor? Or Andorian, or Klingon?” Obviously upset, the Romulan centurion inclined her head briefly in a nod of leave-taking. “I suggest you discuss your options. Because one way or another, this ship is on a new mission, with or without her crew.”

Karon headed for the doors, where, as the doors to the corridor slid open, Jake saw two Romulans with disruptors standing to either side of the doorway. Then the doors closed and they were alone.

“What were you thinking?” Bashir snapped at Nog.

“Me? You insulted her.” Nog said. “Besides, the mission fails. It doesn't need thinking about. The facts are the facts!”

“The Romulans almost killed Worf!” Jadzia said heatedly.

Jake knew that Jadzia's mate was in the ship's sickbay being tended to by an entire holographic medical team, even though they weren't programmed for Klingon physiology. Fortunately for Worf, his disruptor burns were superficial.

Jadzia's accusation hung in the air. But strangely enough, Nog did not fight back. More than anything, Jake thought, the Ferengi looked sad.

“I am truly sorry for the commander,” Nog said, “but I know I did the right thing. If this ship had been taken out on her mission as planned, we would have accomplished nothing. It's as simple as that.”

Jake hated seeing his friend so beleaguered, so defensive. Nog was looking twice as old as he had on Starbase 53. Jake tried to remember what Bashir had said about the little capitulations and loss of ideals that accompanied adulthood. How many small defeats had Nog had to endure in the years they had been apart? What had brought him to this state—a troubling and troubled person who had sold out every ideal he had ever believed in?

Unless, Jake suddenly thought, Nog hasn't changed at all. . . .

“Nog,” Jake said, reaching out for the plaque and holding it up, “what other mishaps?”

Nog looked down the table at him and Jake saw in the Ferengi's sudden wariness that he had hit on something.

The plaque. The plaque was the key. Somehow.

Jake put the plaque down on the table and ran his fingers over its raised lettering. He felt excitement bubbling up in him.

“When you said you conducted tests on this, you said it showed signs of various ‘mishaps.’ That's an odd word to use.”

Nog took a deep breath, and if his friend had still been only nineteen, Jake would have sworn he was gathering his strength to confess some transgression of youth to his father. Then Nog glanced at the closed door, and Jake leaned forward, on the alert. Nog had something he was hiding from the Romulans.

Maybe his friend wasn't the traitor, the loser he seemed to have become.

Maybe there was still some of the old Nog—the young Nog—locked up in that middle-aged Ferengi's body.

Now Nog leaned forward and dropped his voice to a low whisper.

“Do you know how the Ascendancy plans to bring on the end of the universe?” he asked the three before him.

“By merging the two wormholes,” Bashir said.

“Yes, but how?” Nog asked. “I mean, really—by what technique can you actually move two energy phenomena held in place by verteron pressure?”

Jake, Bashir, and Jadzia all shook their heads.

“Well, Starfleet doesn't know, either. That's one of the reasons we were so slow to react to the Ascendancy's plans. The best scientists just didn't think what they planned to do was possible.”

“But . . .” Jake said, grasping for enlightenment, “it is?”

“Yesss!” Nog hissed. “Most certainly. And I know what they plan to do, because the evidence is all right here. . . .” He patted the dedication plaque. “My friends, I needed the Romulans to help me steal this ship from Starfleet, but now I need your help to steal it back.”

“Yess!” Jake thought. That's my Nog. Then he sat forward even closer to listen to Nog's plan.