The War of the Prophets

know how willful Klingons can be."

  T'len's chin lifted, and she turned again to face Worf. She was backed against a

  central engineering table that flickered with constantly updating engineering

  drawings of the Phoenix. "Commander, I am not your enemy."

  "If you do not tell me the fate of the Klingon Empire in this time period, then

  I have no choice but to con­clude you are somehow responsible for the

  destruction of the Empire. That makes you my enemy, and deserv­ing of death."

  In what Jadzia could only consider a Vulcan's last-ditch retreat into pure

  desperation, T'len thrust her hand forward in an attempt to give Worf a nerve

  pinch.

  As Jadzia knew he would, Worf caught the Vulcan's hand before it had traveled

  more than half the distance to bis shoulder. Then he began to squeeze it. Hard.

  "You have attacked me," Worf announced in stentorian tones. "I am now justified

  hi defending myself." At the same time, he began to bend T'len's hand backward.

  "I order you to release me!" T'len said.

  Worf was implacable. He continued without pause. "I do not recognize your right

  to order me. In my time, the Empire and the Federation were allies. Since you do

  not support the Empire, to me that makes you an enemy of die Federation. Either

  explain to me why and how conditions have changed, or prepare to take pas­sage

  on the Barge of the Dead."

  Jadzia could see T'len beginning to tremble in her ef­fort to resist Worf's grip

  and to control the discomfort she must be feeling in her stressed wrist and

  hand.

  "Vulcans do not believe in Klingon superstition," the captain said, her voice

  wavering despite her attempts to keep it steady.

  "It will not remain a superstition for long," Worf said grimly. "In less than a

  minute, I guarantee you will have firsthand knowledge."

  T'len raised her other hand to try to slap her commu­nicator. But Worf caught

  that hand, too.

  Jadzia judged the time was right. She stepped for­ward. "Captain, you know we

  want to help the cause. Isn't it logical that you provide us with the same

  infor­mation that inspires you to fight?"

  "This is not your concern," Worf snapped at her, ex­actly as Jadzia had

  suggested he do. "The Trill home­world is still within the Federation. But for

  all the information Starfleet is willing to give me"—he bent down until his

  fangs and glaring eyes were only a cen­timeter from T'len's tense features—"the

  Empire might as well have been destroyed."

  "It was!" T'len suddenly exclaimed. "There! Does that satisfy you?!"

  Jadzia could see the surprise in Worf's face. Almost as an afterthought he

  released the Vulcan's hand, and she immediately hugged it to her chest, rubbing

  at her wrist

  "Why could you not tell me at the beginning?" Worf said accusingly. "Just as you

  told the humans about the destruction of the Earth."

  "Because the Earth was destroyed by the Grigari," T'len said sharply and, Vulcan

  or not, the bitterness in her was clearly evident. "But the Empire destroyed

  itself."

  At once Jadzia moved to Worf's side then, to keep him grounded in this moment,

  to prevent his descent into the full rage of battle at T'len's revelation. She

  put her hands on his arm and his back.

  "You—will—tell—me—how." Through the touch that connected them Jadzia felt the

  visceral struggle each word cost her mate.

  T'len's answer was slow in coming. "Project Look­ing Glass," she said with a

  wary look at Worf and Jadzia. "The Klingons were so proud of it. While the

  Federation fought a holding battle against the Ascen­dancy, the Empire was to

  prepare a safe haven from the destruction of the universe."

  Jadzia stroked her mate's back to calm him. "Isn't that a contradiction in

  terms?" she asked.

  "Not if the safe haven is another universe," T'len said.

  As quickly as that, Jadzia understood. "Looking Glass," she said, stepping away

  from Worf.

  Because Worf understood, as well. "The Mirror Uni­verse."

  T'len nodded, and Jadzia relaxed, detecting the sub-tie change in the Vulcan

  captain's stance in response to Worf's more measured tones.

  "In that universe," T'len added with greater as­surance, as she sensed that Worf

  would not respond physically to her unwelcome information, "the

  Klingon-Cardassian Alliance was in disarray and easy to over­come once the Prime

  Directive was suspended. The total population was much lower. There were

  sufficient worlds in which to create new colonies. And the best physicists

  concluded that the destruction of our own universe would have no effect on the

  Mirror Universe.

  It appears that the Prophets—or the wormhole aliens of Jalbador—don't seem to

  exist there."

  Jadzia knew Worf would not accept T'len's charac­terization of Klingons, no

  matter which universe they existed in. And he did not. "It is not like my people

  to plan for defeat," Worf growled.

  T'len promptly deflected his objection. "That was just a contingency plan,

  Commander. The original in­tention was to send a Klingon fleet into the Mirror

  Uni­verse, fight its way to Bajor, then reappear in our universe behind the

  Ascendancy's lines."

  Worf grunted approvingly. "A worthy deception. It sounds like the work of

  General Martok."

  "Chancellor Martok," T'len corrected. "And it was his plan."

  Jadzia could see from the way Worf's eyes flashed that he already knew how the

  plan had ended.

  "How did it fail?" he asked.

  The hesitant manner in which T'len answered sug­gested to Jadzia that the plan's

  outcome still baffled the Vulcan captain. "I assure you, Commander Worf, the

  first exploratory and reconnaissance missions were flawless. Every replicator in

  the Empire and most of those throughout the Federation were requisitioned to

  create transporter pads, to transfer goods and warriors to the other side. That

  effort alone took two years. We still haven't replaced all the replicators we

  expended. But in time our forces were ready."

  T'len's eyes lost their focus and became opaque, as she relived the moment "The

  fleet—the Armada— moved out from the Empire in the Mirror Universe, heading for

  Bajor, while at the same time in our uni­verse, to counter any suspicions, Earth

  entered into

  trade and treaty negotiations with the Grigari. But the Grigari fleet attacked

  Earth without warning, and with so many ships committed to Looking Glass—which

  we were certain had not been detected by the Ascen­dancy—there were no

  reinforcements to save that world."

  T'len's eyes cleared, and she looked squarely at Worf. "When word reached the

  Mirror Universe that the Gri­gari had attacked here before the Klingons could

  attack there, the Feet turned around to come to Earth's defense. And when it was

  in that state of confusion as its mission changed, a second Grigari fleet

  attacked there as well."

  Jadzia took an involuntary step forward, then stopped herself as Worf's head

  bowed in sorrow.

  "But how... how could the defeat of the Armada lose the Empire?" he asked T'len.

  "All those transporters," T'len said quietly. "They had been used to send un
told

  trillions of tonnes of sup­plies and equipment between the universes. Enormous

  complexes of mem were on all the major worlds of the Empire."

  "And the Grigari—" T'len paused for a moment be­fore continuing. At that moment,

  Jadzia realized that in her way the Vulcan captain was trying to be kind to

  Worf, as she succinctly completed her account with lit­tle elaboration of the

  devastating consequences of the plan's failure.

  "The Grigari used those same transporters to move weapons from the Mirror

  Universe into ours, weapons which detonated in place and tore apart worlds,

  ren­dered atmospheres unbreathable and collapsed entire ecosystems.

  "The end result... was that we learned that the Gri-

  gari had known exactly what we had planned and had prepared a perfect series of

  countermoves against us. According to our best estimates," T'len concluded,

  "there are slightly more than one million Klingons left alive in this quadrant."

  Worf's broad chest heaved, and if not for the pres­ence of the Vulcan Jadzia

  would have reached out and drawn him close to her, to share his terrible grief.

  When he finally spoke, Worf's voice was low but steady. "Why would you not tell

  me this before?"

  "Because Starfleet needs every warrior who can serve. And that includes you,

  Commander. Also"— Jadzia felt T'len's gaze upon her—"we were concerned that

  if... when you found out about the fate of your Empire, you would do what so

  many other Klingons have done—go off on a suicidal mission to assuage sur­vivor

  guilt and die in battle. Or that you would attempt to accomplish some great

  victory, in order to ensure that a relative lost in the destruction of the

  Armada might find a place in Sto-Vo-Kor."

  The sounds of Worf's deep breathing intensified, but he did not respond further.

  "What will you do, Commander?" T'len asked. "Abandon Starfleet? Abandon the

  Phoenix? Go off and die in glorious battle?"

  Jadzia held her breath. This time, not even she knew what Worf's answer would

  be.

  It seemed forever to her before her mate again spoke. "How did Chancellor Martok

  die?"

  "He was with the fleet," T'len said simply, "on the flagship The Heart of

  Kahless. But they were wiped out to the last warrior. I do not know precisely

  how he died."

  "He died with honor," Worf growled fiercely in what

  Jadzia knew was a challenge. "Of that you can be cer­tain."

  Jadzia tensed. The Vulcan captain stared up at Worf for a moment before making

  her decision. "I am," the Vulcan said.

  Worf nodded once, then said, "I am a Starfleet offi­cer. I see no conflict in

  fulfilling that duty and behaving honorably as a Klingon warrior. But you must

  no longer keep secrets from me, or from any of us. Either we are your fellow

  warriors and your equals, or we will leave you to fight on our own. Is that

  understood?"

  "Yes," T'len said.

  Jadzia had a question of her own for T'len. "Why are there so few humans left?"

  Once again, T'len's voice betrayed an un-Vulcan-like emotional turmoil, but now

  Jadzia was realizing that more than just institutions had changed in this time.

  So had the people. She would have to remember that, and not depend on perhaps

  irrelevant assumptions derived from centuries of experience in other times. The

  knowl­edge gave her an odd feeling of freedom from the past lives she

  remembered. Whatever she and the others faced in this time would require her to

  make observa­tions uniquely her own.

  "The Klingon colony worlds," T'len explained, "were used to create the Armada in

  the Mirror Uni­verse. In contrast, human colony worlds were used to establish

  emergency communities, survival camps re­ally ... in case Starfleet and the

  Empire were not suc­cessful in stopping the Ascendancy. And the same type of

  transporter facilities were installed everywhere from Alpha Centauri to Deneva.

  At sixty percent efficiency, with the facilities we established on fifty colony

  worlds, we would have had the capacity to transfer up to thirty million people a

  day into the Mirror Universe. In these past five years, we might have

  saved—evacu­ated—almost sixty billion people."

  The Trill understood at least one reason for the Vul­can captain's distress.

  Sixty billion was a vast number, yet it would only have accounted for slightly

  less than ten percent of the total population of the Federation. And factoring

  in the populations of the nonaligned systems and all the other beings who must

  exist else­where in the galaxy and throughout the universe, sixty billion was as

  inconsequential as a raindrop in an ocean.

  But there was another possible reason.

  "The Grigari used those transporters too, didn't they?" Jadzia asked.

  "Nanospores," T'len said with distaste. "Nanites, which exist only to

  disassemble living cells to make other nanites, which then spread to other

  life-forms and begin the process again. They can't be screened through

  biofilters. There are no drugs to which they will respond. Neither are they

  affected by extremes of temperature. Whole populations were... were dis­solved.

  Entire worlds stripped of their biospheres. And Starfleet had to maintain

  quarantines around all of mem, to incinerate any ship that attempted to leave."

  T'len's dark eyes bore into Jadzia's. "Do you really want to know more ? "

  Jadzia touched Worf's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Felt no response in

  return. "Not now," she said. "I mink we need to be alone for a while."

  "We tour the Phoenix at 0800 hours tomorrow morn­ing," T'len said, by way of

  agreement

  Jadzia nodded. T'len sighed as she gave a last rub to her strained wrist, then

  left the planning room.

  As soon as the Vulcan captain had moved through the doorway and out of earshot,

  Worf turned to Jadzia, looked down at her. "This future cannot be permitted to

  happen," he said.

  "But it already has, Worf."

  Worf shook his head angrily. "We are still connected to our past. To our

  present. We must go back somehow and prevent this."

  It was unfortunate, Jadzia thought, that the direct Klingon approach was not

  always the best—not even in this time, she would wager. And it was always so

  diffi­cult to explain that to her mate. She put both hands on Worf's shoulders.

  "Worf, the only way we can go back to our present is by retracing our slingshot

  trajectory around the red wormhole, and that wormhole is in the middle of the

  Bajoran system. There's nothing Starfleet can do to get anywhere near it. We

  have to accept that there's nothing more we can do to change the past. But with

  the Phoenix, we do have a chance to change the future."

  "I refuse to accept that."

  Jadzia made a playful fist and lightly tapped her knuckles against Worf's heavy

  brow ridges. "Just as I thought," she said. "No evidence of brain matter. Solid

  bone throughout."

  Her mate glared at her. 'This is not the time for lev­ity! The universe is

  trapped in a nightmare and we are the only ones who can restore it!"

  "I agree," Jadzia said, drawing her fingers along Worf's cheek. "But what do I

  always tell you when you make such grand and glorious plans?"


  Jadzia hid her smile as Worf's bluster became uncer­tain.

  '1... do not remember," he said.

  Jadzia didn't believe that for an instant. "We can do anything that we choose to

  do... say it...."

  Worf grimaced, as if he knew there was no escape mis time. And this time, Jadzia

  thought, she would see that there wasn't.

  "We can do anything that we choose to do," he re­peated without conviction. m

  "Very good," Jadzia said, as she lowered her hand to caress his broad chest.

  "But sometimes, we do not have to choose to do it now."

  She looked up at Worf, knowing what it was they both must do to prepare for the

  battle ahead, just as the first Klingon male and female had done before they had

  stormed heaven and destroyed the gods who had cre­ated them.

  "The Empire must be avenged," Worf said.

  "I know," Jadzia agreed. "But first we must prepare for battle."

  Worf nodded his assent, placed both powerful hands on her arms.

  "Computer," Jadzia said clearly, "seal the planning office door. Security

  request gamma five." She smiled at Worf, glad she had reviewed the security

  manuals for the shipyards.

  Something clicked inside the door, and the security condition light changed from

  amber to red.

  Right at that instant, Worf leaned down and kissed her, his full embrace of her

  powerful, charged with the emotion of the moment and not tempered by concerns

  that had gone before or would be faced in the future.

  But that was Worf's way, not hers. There was still something mat troubled

  Jadzia. She pulled back from him, but did not look away.

  "What?" Worf asked roughly, his voice thick with passion.

  "Something Captain T'len said. About... getting into Sto-Vo-Kor."

  Worf threw back his head proudly. "An easy matter. I have eaten the heart of an

  enemy."

  "There's more to it than that."

  "Of course. A warrior must die hi glorious battle."

  "But T'len said that some Klingons were trying to fight to get their relatives

  into Sto-Vo-Kor."

  Worf sobered, became thoughtful. "There are many qualities a warrior must

  possess. Among them is the abil­ity to inspire great actions in the hearts of

  others. So, if a great warrior does not fall in battle, he is not necessarily

  denied the reward of Sto-Vo-Kor. If those who know him dedicate their own great

  battle to him, men there will be a place for the fallen among the honored dead."