12
“FEDERATION RUNABOUT MADEIRA, YOU WILL STAND BY UNTIL OTHERWISE instructed. You are being monitored. Any attempt to continue your course or to leave your current coordinates will be dealt with promptly and with force. Thank you for your patience.”
Miles O’Brien leaned back in his chair, scowling at the alien computer’s pleasantly menacing statement, repeated for the third time now. It was actually very polite considering the source, although the last line was obviously a recent addition. It was a kinder, gentler Cardassia these days.
“No, thank you,” he muttered, then turned around to shrug at the others.
“That’s all I can get now,” he said. “All other channels are locked off.”
Sighs all around. Although Joseph Sisko seemed resigned to the wait, his daughter was getting irritated. Interesting; Judith got the same pinched look around the eyes that Captain Sisko used to get, when he was royally ticked.
“What about that person you spoke to before, on the Starfleet ship?” She asked, crossing her arms. “He said he’d talk to the station. That was twenty minutes ago.”
Keiko, holding Kirayoshi in her lap, shot a nervous glance at her husband but spoke gently; Yoshi was dozing, his head slumped against his mother’s arm. The traveling had disturbed all of their sleep patterns. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”
“Then they still haven’t cleared up this business with the terrorists?” Judith asked, folding her arms tighter, and O’Brien could see now that he’d mistaken her anxiety for anger. If he knew his wife at all, she was feeling much the same, now that they were actually here. As exciting and unexpected as the sudden trip to DS9 was for both of them, taking the children into a terrorist hot spot wasn’t high on their list of good parenting ideas. Though they’d found out about Shakaar’s assassination before leaving Earth, they hadn’t known about the security lockdown until already under way, when their attempts to call ahead were met with recorded warnings
and had continued on only because they were all figuring that Captain Yates’s status with the Bajorans—not to mention Miles’s own “in” with the command staff of the station—would get them through the block. He and Keiko had reasoned that if the conspirators were hoping to keep the Federation away, it seemed unlikely that Bajor itself would be targeted; the station would be the danger zone. O’Brien knew that Keiko was counting on an invitation from Kasidy, to stay on Bajor. If she didn’t have room, they’d undoubtedly be able to find accommodations in the nearest town.
What, and miss all the fun?
He shot that down, fast. He’d promised Keiko that he wouldn’t get involved in whatever mess was going on, not if he could help it. He worked on Earth now, had finally settled into the family life; his days of perilous exploits had passed, as they probably should have the very day Molly had been born. And they had come for Joseph and Judith and Captain Yates, for their family. If it meant staying away from DS9 entirely, he was committed to that end. Besides, their friends would come visit them on the planet, if they could. Probably.
“We don’t know that,” O’Brien said, keeping his tone mild. “It could be over, and they’re just cleaning up.”
“They’ll get to us when they get to us,” Joseph said, easily the most relaxed of them all. Since making the decision to welcome his new grandchild into the family, he seemed to have set aside the bitter anger that he’d experienced following his illness, almost certainly brought on by the disappearances of his son and grandson. O’Brien was pleased that they’d been able to do at least that much for the Siskos
though it had been the children, he and Keiko were sure, that had really drawn Joseph out of his self-imposed hermitage.
How could they not? O’Brien thought fondly, glancing between their two beautiful babies. Molly looked quite grownup, lounging in her seat and reading the old hardcopy book Joseph had given her. And Yoshi, nuzzling sleepily against Keiko’s shoulder, was a joy in all that he did. O’Brien hoped everything had been cleaned up; though they’d been gone less than a year, the children were growing so fast. He wanted to show them off, and knew that everyone would want to see how quickly they were growing up. And he wouldn’t mind running a holo or two with Julian, as long as they were in the neighborhood. Teaching was an adventure, he supposed, but not in the same way that adventure was an adventure. In fact, as bright and motivated as his first-year AP students had been, he was finding his new position to be a little on the bland side
.
“Runabout Maidera?”
Ah! Still no picture, but an actual person this time. He’d had enough standing by to last a lifetime. “Yeah, right here,” O’Brien said.
“Stand by.”
O’Brien gritted his teeth, but before he could think of an appropriate expletive, a familiar voice came on.
“Chief?”
“Nerys? Ah, Colonel?”
“You have an interesting sense of timing, Miles,” Kira said, “but I’m glad you’re here. Kasidy has been looking forward to your arrival. How is everyone?”
“Good. Great,” O’Brien said. He could actually feel the atmosphere behind him relaxing.
“There are a few security clearances we’ll have to put you through before you can head down, so if you’ll let a small team beam aboard
“
“No problem,” O’Brien said. They’d expected as much, although in all his years with Starfleet, he couldn’t remember such a serious reaction to the murder of a political figure. It was horrible, of course, but calling in the Cardassians
that was a real twist. Perhaps it was a test for the Cardassians, too, to see how far their newly formed goodwill would stretch.
“I hope we’ll get a chance to visit while you’re here,” Kira said. “I’d love to catch up, see Molly and Yoshi, but the station isn’t the best place for guests right now.”
He could hear the tautness to her voice, now that he was listening for it. “Is there anything I—anything we can do to help?” he asked.
“Not at the moment,” Kira said seriously. “But I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.”
Oops. O’Brien winced, not turning to see Keiko’s expression. He hoped she recognized that the offer had been made in a friendly way, not as a real offer.
“I’ve got to go, but welcome back,” Kira said, her voice abruptly turning light again. “And I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but there’s a surprise waiting for the Siskos on Bajor.”
Joseph and Judith were suddenly standing at either side of him, leaning into the comm.
“Is it the baby?” Joseph blurted out.
“Is Kas okay? When?” Judith asked, at the same time.
Kira laughed. “So much for surprises. Joseph and—Judith, right?”
“Yes, Colonel, hello,” Joseph said impatiently, but with a smile. “What is it, boy or girl?”
“Wrong surprise,” Kira said. “No baby, yet. But Kas gave me the go-ahead to tell you—” She took a deep breath. “Jake is home, with Kasidy. He got back a few days ago, from the Gamma Quadrant. It’s a long story, I haven’t even heard the half of it myself, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to fill you in.”
“Oh, thank God,” Joseph breathed, and then he and Judith were laughing, embracing. O’Brien grinned, glad for the news.
“You’ve made a couple of my passengers very happy,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the Siskos’ excitement. “And Keiko and me, too.”
They signed off, Kira promising to contact them on Bajor as soon as she could after asking them to wait for the security team. A few more warm words, and she was gone
leaving O’Brien feeling strangely wistful.
She’s got to get back to dealing with the station, with a thousand small emergencies, probably, he thought, tapping out. No time to talk. Poor Nog was surely being run ragged, setting up security scanners and the like, not to mention the nightmare of rerouting nearly all of the open com channels through ops, trying to line everything up with a Cardassian line block. Chaos, total chaos.
God, but sometimes I miss it. Teaching had been it’s own unique adventure, to be sure
but the excitement of not knowing what would come next, not knowing what challenge would rear its complicated head from day to day
that hadn’t been such an easy thing to give up, after all.
“What are you thinking?” Keiko asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He started guiltily and turned to face her, saw that Molly was reading to a sleepy-eyed Yoshi, that Joseph and Judith were still chattering happily with the news about Jake. They were alone, as much as it was possible on a runabout with six people in the forward cabin.
“Nothing much,” he said, smiling, wishing it were true. He wasn’t lying, not exactly; he’d committed to the quiet life for her, for his family, and he meant to follow through. A few pangs of nostalgia were to be expected. “And I don’t plan on offering my services so lightly next time around,” he added.
Keiko smiled back at him, a nice smile. She’d been a bit tense ever since they’d left Earth, but now she leaned forward to kiss him lightly, tenderly. “You’re a good man, Miles O’Brien,” she said.
A good man. He could live with that. He stood up and took Keiko’s hand as they walked over to join their children.
“
and so I said to her, what do you want from me? I’m in the same ship as you, and it’s not as though we were ever really partners,” Quark said, shaking his head. “To think, she wanted a full half of the last party profits. I mean, look around. Can I afford that? No matter what they look like, those Orion women are a manipulative bunch, I’ll be well rid of her. Oh, and that reminds me, did you know that Frool is talking about going back to Ferenginar? After all I’ve done for him, too. He got a half-slip raise just two years ago
.”
Uncle Quark wouldn’t stop talking, of course, but Nog had long ago learned how to look interested without hearing a word. A trick his father had once taught him, actually—a slight frown for a count of five, a slight smile for a count of three, two slow nods, then ten seconds of thoughtfulness followed by an appreciative grunt. Repeat. It had gotten Nog through many a lecture, and was serving quite well to see him through the late meal.
“
and you’d think they’d bother with a decent tip, considering all the trouble I went through to dig out those cases of kanar
“
Grunt. Frown. Nog forked another toasted slug into his mouth and went over his workload for the night. It was already 2100, but lately no one was getting much sleep. Lieutenant Ro still wanted to get all of the storage bays scanned a level at a time, then set up silent motion sensors as they closed off each area. It meant rigging up at least a half-dozen new sets, since they had to be grid; everyone thought the parasites were ground creatures, but Dr. Bashir said they probably hopped, too, from the spine curvature or something, which meant a straight floor beam wouldn’t do the trick—
“
parasites, maybe?”
Nog blinked up at Quark, who was leaning over the bar, his voice low. “What?”
Quark scowled. “Got your attention, didn’t I? That trick only works for so long. I said, do you think that Wex person might have something to do with the parasites? I think it’s quite a coincidence, her turning up when she did, then her and that Jem’Hadar getting chummy. Though, now that I think of it
do those monsters mate for fun? Maybe they’re
you know
” Quark leered appropriately.
Alarmed, and not a little disgusted, Nog shook his head, trying to look casual. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Uncle.”
“Oh, stop,” Quark snapped. “And by the way, thank you so very much for telling me that my life is in danger. That’s what makes family so special, the honesty that we count on from one another, the trust.”
“Uncle, please,” Nog said, looking quickly from side to side. If he’d had any doubt as to his uncle’s purity, Quark’s tone of voice dispelled it; no parasite could be so sarcastic. Thank the River, business was bad, less than twenty customers scattered about. “How did you—Never mind. But you’re not supposed to know, and we’re not supposed to talk about it, so be quiet, all right?”
Quark smirked. “I haven’t told anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Nog nodded, relieved. That was something, at least. “Don’t, okay?”
“Don’t teach your elders how to forge checks,” Quark retorted. “I’ve been keeping secrets since before I had my first tooth filed.”
At a signal from down the bar, Quark went to fill a drink order. Nog sighed, chewing down another slug. So, Uncle knew about the parasites. The only surprise was how long it had taken him to find out
although the fact that he wasn’t in hiding was something of a shock, considering. Quark was famous for his cowardice. When he returned a moment later, Nog had to ask.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
Quark shrugged. “I’ve got a security system in place.”
Nog casually glanced around, saw nothing
then remembered what he’d nearly tripped over when he’d gone behind the bar for his order. “You mean those rusty old vole traps?”
“Hey, I paid good money for those traps,” Quark said defensively. “They caught voles, didn’t they?”
Actually, they hadn’t, or rarely at best, but Nog didn’t want to start an argument. He nodded. “Good thinking.”
“Besides, I’ve got the Mr. Victory-is-life over there,” Quark added, tipping his head toward Taran’atar. “Unpaid security. Between him and Lady Gray, the atmosphere in here is creepy enough to scare away anything.”
As always when he saw the Jem’Hadar, Nog felt his gut tighten, though not as much as before his ordeal with the cathedral. He ignored it, refusing to let himself fall into that particular trap; he had other things to deal with. He focused on Wex instead, sitting at the table nearest Taran’atar’s post at the exit, nursing an ale and gazing out at the activity on the Promenade.
“Wex isn’t creepy,” Nog said, looking her up and down. She was kind of attractive, actually. Big, black eyes, long white hair, short. A little thin, but not annoyingly so.
Quark snorted. “It’s her demeanor. She’s been coming in for hours at a time for days now, and I haven’t seen her smile once. Not one time.”
“Maybe she’s just shy or something. Have you talked to her?” Nog asked.
“I don’t have to talk to her,” Quark said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the small humanoid. “The way she looks at me
not to mention the company she keeps
she’s trouble. I don’t know how, but I’m sure of it.”
As if she could hear what his uncle was saying, Wex turned her head and stared directly at them, at Quark. It wasn’t a glare, exactly, but Nog did get the impression that she disapproved of the bartender.
“See that?” Quark asked. “See?”
Nog nodded, shrugging inwardly. There were parasites running around the station, and Uncle was having paranoid fits over an un-demonstrative alien girl. He had to agree that anyone who voluntarily hung around with a Jem’Hadar might be a little off, but Wex seemed all right otherwise. And Jake had mentioned that although she kept to herself, she had been instrumental in finding Kai Opaka. In any case, Nog had finished eating, and had work to do.
“I don’t know. Half the people who come in here look at you that way,” Nog said, pushing away from the bar. “If I don’t stop in later, I’ll be in for breakfast,” he added, knowing that even with his discount, Uncle appreciated the business.
Quark started to say something in return—and then there was a telltale clink from under the stairs, a noise Nog hadn’t heard in years, the sound of a vole trap snapping closed. Almost simultaneously, a customer yelped, jumping from his chair, and suddenly it seemed that everyone, all sixteen customers, were on their feet, pointing and shouting.
Nog caught just a glimpse of movement, incredibly fast, a tiny thing streaking across the floor, headed for the Promenade. Behind him, Quark let out a high-pitched shriek and clambered onto the bar.
Taran’atar bent low, blocking the parasite’s exit as much as was possible, thrusting his hands toward the darting creature, his reflexes at least as fast as the creature itself. Everything was happening fast; Wex had run for the door mechanism, was closing the entrance, and Nog reached for his badge to call security, his heart thundering, Quark was still squealing and the excited cries of the few patrons seemed to be getting louder—
—and Nog watched in horror as the parasite seemed to take wing, flying at the Jem’Hadar’s face. There was a blur of wriggling movement and then Taran’atar stood up, his mouth working as the animal forced itself deeper inside.
The Jem’Hadar frowned, seeming almost confused by the experience—and as his jaw tightened, he grimaced. The expression of a man biting into something unpleasant.
With that confused, disgusted look still on his spined face, Taran’atar lifted his head, opened his mouth, and spat. A wad of greenish ooze flew out, landing on the floor in front of him with a noisy wet splick.
Stunned, Nog walked forward, joining the other customers as they crowded around the small, slimy puddle that had so recently been alive. Nog could see what might have been a leg, or maybe a pincer. The Jem’Hadar had effectively mulched it.
Nog called Ro and then quickly surveyed the gathered watchers, noting that except for himself, Quark, and Taran’atar, only two of them might know about the parasites. The other onlookers were confused and anxious, whispers already starting, several trying to leave. They needed some damage control, fast—and it came from an unlikely source.
“I told you, this place has vermin,” Wex said loudly, addressing the Jem’Hadar. “I saw the traps. Some kind of lice, I think.”
Several of the watchers paled, or their species’ equivalent, and Quark, who had finally climbed down from the bar, hurried over with an expression of absolute fury for the diminutive girl.
“This establishment is clean,” he hissed at her, then turned an ingratiating smile on the concerned customers. “I assure you, Quark’s is vermin-free. Unless it’s on the menu.”
No one seemed reassured. Quark bared his teeth harder, and Nog knew what was coming, could see it in Quark’s eyes. His uncle would keep a secret, but not if it interfered with business.
“It so happens—” Quark started.
“—that my pet hunta spider just got eaten,” Nog interrupted, the first lie he could think of, trying to look properly forlorn. “I’m so sorry, Uncle. I know I wasn’t supposed to bring him to the restaurant.” He shot a malicious glare at Taran’atar, one he didn’t have to fake. Didn’t it just figure. Jem’Hadar could withstand parasites.
“But you don’t—” Quark said, before he caught on. He shook his head, forcing a laugh as he opened his arms to the watching group. “Ha ha. My nephew’s pet.”
He turned to Nog, eyes flashing. “I’ve told you time and again, that’s a stupid pet to have. See what happened?”
He addressed the customers again, promising a ten-percent discount on drinks for the next round, cursing Nog’s irresponsibility to anyone who would listen. Most seemed at least slightly mollified. Nog saw Ro and two security people discreetly slip through the doors, and allowed himself to breathe
but he also heard a few furtive whispers, telling him that not everyone was convinced.
Ro casually spoke with Taran’atar and Wex as one of her team scooped up the remains of the parasite, then went to speak with Quark, presumably to try and convince him to shut the restaurant down until it could be scanned. The parasites were getting bolder, it seemed
and Nog felt that he’d just witnessed the beginning to the inevitable breakdown of the information lock ordered by the Federation. Tactically, a bad thing, but he couldn’t help some measure of relief, and suspected he wouldn’t be the only one. When it had been a handful of cases, the lying made more sense. But it was obviously getting to the point where people needed to know, to protect themselves.
As he left Quark’s, Nog thought of all that would have to be done to get the infestation under control, and all that they hadn’t even started to address, and felt his usual optimism dwindling. What were they going to do? Where was safe, anymore?
It seemed that no one could say. Nog trudged back to work, his heart heavy.
After his call from Kira, Vaughn wandered through the quiet corridors of the monastery, not realizing that he was looking for Opaka until he saw her. She was alone in one of the small reading libraries, seated in front of a pile of opened books, apparently cross-referencing something or other. Outside, a light rain fell in the deepening twilight. She seemed thoroughly immersed in her work, and as much as he didn’t want to intrude upon the woman, his brief conversation with the colonel—one that had included his current medical status—had left him in need of some peace.
Vaughn stood in the entrance a moment, watching Opaka’s gentle, graceful movements as she flipped through one of the books, the slight frown of concentration on her brow. In the few days he’d spent at the retreat, his conversations with Opaka Sulan were the only times he didn’t feel
well, bad. Frantic to return to work, or depressed about Prynn, or hopelessly self-pitying. The former kai was one of those rare people whose very presence was soothing to those around her.
And after that call
Kira had updated him on what was happening with the parasites, but only in the most general way; Vaughn suspected she’d been holding back, to spare him additional anxiety. He’d had another physical only that morning, one of the docs sent over from the scan camp just outside Ashalla. Vaughn wondered if she’d had any idea how much worse that had made it for him, how frustrating it was to hear a diluted version of the crisis—knowing that Ro had learned “something” that “might” be useful and would be back at the station soon; hearing that Bashir and his team were nearing “several good conclusions”; being told that the screenings on Bajor were moving right along, nothing he needed to worry about. The colonel was a good liar, but not that good.
Neither am I, unfortunately. At least, his body wasn’t. Nervous exhaustion, according to the med tech, another three days, minimum. It seemed his rest wasn’t turning out to be particularly restful.
And why should it? He watched Opaka, not really seeing her. He hadn’t done anything to address his “problem,” hadn’t managed to pin it down. Hell, he hadn’t even tried. Heavy self-analysis wasn’t in his nature, never had been. Maybe that was part of it; maybe his fierce need to feel completely independent, to carry no emotional ties, had finally caught up to him in a way he could no longer handle.
And why? Except for my own pride, what good has it ever done for me, this self-imposed requirement that I deal with everything on my own? Looking back over his emotional life, he saw nothing useful in his autonomy. It had kept him apart from Ruriko and then Prynn, had kept almost every friend he’d ever had at a distance. Had kept him alone, and safe. Or so he’d thought, so he’d told himself.
“Commander.”
Vaughn smiled at Opaka’s gentle acknowledgment, still hesitating in the doorway. “I don’t mean to interrupt
“
“Nonsense,” she said, closing the book in front of her. “I’m done for today, I think. Come in, sit. Would you like tea, something to eat?”
At Vaughn’s shrug, Opaka reached for a panel on the table, politely asking for a tray to be sent to the library. She settled back into the worn wooden chair, focusing on Vaughn. It was strangely calming, to be closely scrutinized by someone seemingly so at peace with herself. Vaughn knew how rare that actually was, a truly peaceful spirit
and knew that he was ready to talk to someone about his medical leave, and the source of his troubles. He thought, he hoped that Opaka might be willing to listen.
The tray arrived, tea and light fare for both of them, fresh greens, sliced fruit, a loaf of bread. They talked about the weather as they ate, about the harvesting seasons of Bajor’s different continents, about history, travel, about nothing in particular. Vaughn let himself be soothed by the conversation, enjoying Opaka’s perspective on even the simplest of things—and though he’d planned to work up to it, he found that their talk led naturally into more personal matters. Opaka was younger than he, but was certainly old enough to share a few laughs with him over the follies of youth, and the experience of aging. Twilight turned to dark, and their conversation continued, deepening as the evening deepened to night. She was easy to talk to, open with herself but not presumptuous, her judgments tempered with kindness. It was after she told him of her son, killed during the Cardassian occupation, that he found himself telling her about Prynn. Then Prynn’s mother, and then his short time at DS9, and how nothing had seemed to turn out as he’d hoped. Opaka listened with a gentle ear, no trace of the scorn that he’d feared in her countenance or manner.
Vaughn recounted what had happened to him in the Gamma Quadrant, what had happened to the sad remnants of his family, and trailed off, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and relief when he’d finally run out of things to tell her. It was hard, harder than he’d expected, but it was out; at last, he had talked about it, about the dreams, about his inability to focus.
Opaka sipped from her long-cold tea, quiet settling over the dim room as Vaughn waited. She seemed perfectly content to say nothing, and after a few moments, he felt a burst of impatience. She must know how agonizing it was for him, to share such private things.
“Do you think I should resign?” he asked.
“Do you want to?”
“I—don’t know,” he said. “No, I suppose not.”
Opaka nodded, took another sip of tea. It seemed she wasn’t going to offer any unsolicited advice.
“What should I do?” he asked finally, feeling a flash of irritation with her because he had to ask, with himself for asking.
Opaka raised her eyebrows. “How am I to know? It’s your life.”
“I thought—I thought you might have some insight,” Vaughn said, his anger melting away even as he said it. She was right, of course, and his impatience was only because he wanted to share the responsibility of his problems. She knew better. He should have.
“I have opinions,” Opaka said, smiling. “Insight, no, but I can tell you what I see
if you’re willing to look with me.”
Vaughn nodded, relaxing a little. “I’d like that.”
“In our religion, it is said that our lives are like tapestries, all of us weaving our own stories
and that these stories become threads in a much greater Tapestry,” she said. “I’ve found it to be an apt analogy in secular matters, as well. Tell me—if you had to pick a moment or an event that changed things for you, that turned your life onto this path you now walk, what would you say it was? Don’t think on it too long.”
That was relatively easy. “My experience with the Orb, on the Kamal,” he said.
Opaka smiled wider. “Ah, yes. It made you want to explore, to seek out new places. To become what you wanted to be, in your youth.”
“I took the job at DS9 because of it,” Vaughn said. “I didn’t even know that Prynn was stationed there
.”
He trailed off, remembering. The Orb experience had led him to his daughter and a new career, that had led him to the Gamma Quadrant and Ruriko. It wasn’t a direct line by any means, but it was certainly a chain of related events. He had said as much to Prynn after trying to make sense of their improbable discovery of her mother.
“If you could go back now, and erase that moment—unravel it from your story—would you?” Opaka asked. “Would you cast aside the knowledge you’ve gained from this thread?”
Vaughn started to answer, to tell her that knowledge should never be cast aside—and then frowned, pushing aside the automatic response. It wasn’t a time for reflexive answers.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Right now, I just don’t know. What I want is
clarity, I suppose. It felt so right, when I looked into the Orb, and afterward. For a time. I just wish I had some sign, that I’m still doing the right things, for the right reasons
.”
Opaka’s half smile told him he wasn’t the only one.
“I know, I know, but if there was some way I could refocus, find that deeper understanding. Remember why I chose. Maybe that would make things easier.”
Opaka nodded. “And you can’t, because
?”
“Because
because I’m lost right now,” Vaughn said slowly, and was somewhat horrified to find himself near tears. It was worse than being lost; he was stuck, repeating the same loop of self-hatred and doubt, living the nightmare of killing Ruriko over and over, seeing it in his daughter’s eyes every time she looked at him, every time he imagined her looking at him. “I don’t know if my judgment is sound.”
He struggled to maintain himself, and Opaka looked away, allowing him the privacy to regain control. After a moment, she spoke, still looking away—and gave him what he’d been looking for, an option he hadn’t even considered.
“The Tears of the Prophets are here,” she said softly, and Vaughn grasped to her words like a drowning man might grasp a thrown rope. He started to nod, the faintest hope touching his damaged soul, knowing already that he’d do whatever was necessary to look into the brilliant light of the Bajoran artifact once again, to see what he could see.