ELEVEN

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Kira paced around the conference table, her hands behind her back. "I don't understand. The orb is in the monk's ceremonial box. It shouldn't be able to sustain this time bubble any more."

Sisko, Bashir and Odo were around the table, each looking rather pensive.

The door opened suddenly and Dax and O'Brien came in.

"We've got it," Dax said, waving a tricorder. "Evidence that the bubble is now self-sustaining. Kira will need to tell the orb to shut it down."

"Can you do that?" Sisko asked as he turned his chair to see Kira had stopped by a round Cardassian window. The Enterprise outside caught his eye past her shoulder.

"I think so," she said. "I got us back from Kirk's ship, so this should be… something similar, right?"

"I'll leave that to you." He pushed at the table to get up.

"Captain," she blurted. He paused. "Can we talk?" she asked.

Sisko thought for a moment. "Dax and O'Brien - full inventory, please. We cannot leave anything behind. Odo - please check that all our staff and theirs are where they should be. Bashir - get ready. I don't know what tremors or shocks will go through the station when we're ejected from this bubble." He nodded. "Dismissed."

They all got up and filed out. Kira stayed in place, waiting.

Sisko watched the door shut behind his officers and then turned his chair toward her. "Now. What is it, Major?"

"Sir… I don't know why or how, but I think the orb… it wants us to have another chance to stay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Major, we cannot just decide that we can change history by—"

"That's not what I meant. We could have one evening, just a few hours, with that crew. You saw it yourself - they need shore leave. I'm not saying bring anyone over here. What I'm saying is let's show them it's ok to have downtime. You saw how they reacted to us - they're edgy, on guard all the time, jumping at offers of help like they're used to being attacked first." She paused. "They're good people. And they deserve a break. With friends."

He smiled, shaking his head at the table. "I've been through all this myself. I sat there, explaining to the Bajoran inspectors that it was all going to be alright, that you were going to send everyone home, and these arguments went through my head." He looked up at her. "But there's no reason—"

"Captain," she interrupted. She pulled the chair out to his left, sitting down. Her hands went to the dark surface of the table and she laced her fingers together. "I thought the Prophets had brought us here for me - to make me stay in my past, to change Bajor's future." She paused. "But… maybe it's not Bajor's fate I'm - we're - supposed to change. Maybe all this is for you."

"Me?"

"Starfleet. Maybe we've already given that ship out there the idea that Starfleet can have people like Dax, like Worf, like everyone they don't currently have. Maybe it's already got through to Archer that the Federation will need other races to succeed. But maybe it's not been made clear enough."

Sisko pulled at his lower lip in thought. "Hmm."

"Bajor needs its Emissary. If Archer doesn't change people's mind about other planets, if he doesn't get across to his Admirals how much he relies on his alien crew members… Will Starfleet even reach Bajor? Will you ever be assigned here?" She paused. "The answer is yes, because it's already happened. But as Trip said to me - how do we know it just happened like that? How do we know that we didn't cause it to happen by being a product of it happening?"

"…By being a product of it happening." Sisko's hand dropped from his lip. He looked at her. "You're not saying this a predestination paradox, are you? Because Temporal Investigations hate those."

Kira smiled. "No. I'm saying this is your chance to be Starfleet for them. The future Starfleet. Show them the universe is not out to kill them."

Sisko grinned. "I think you've made a very good point."

"That's all I wanted to do." She got up.

"Major."

"Yes, sir."

"Good work. Tracking down the orb, keeping it in place, getting it back in the box… You know there's no-one else who could have done that, don't you."

"Maybe the Prophets did put me here on purpose after all," she teased.

He grinned. "Next time you speak to them, thank them for me. I should have done it years ago."

Her face dropped in surprise. "Uh - of course, sir."

He waved a hand at her. "Go. Get Ops ready - we'll have to decide how and when we go over there for a soirée. And how I'm going to break this to Archer."

She nodded and walked out. Sisko grinned at the table top.

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Archer trudged his way back to the turbolift, painfully aware of the crew members around him radiating panic and uncertainty. He rode up to the bridge, his hands by his sides, trying to avoid the realisation that this was one of the days he wished he'd never got out of bed.

He crossed the bridge. No-one said a word as he sat down. Sato came out of the next turbolift to arrive and went straight to her seat. She pushed her comms device in her ear and kept her head down.

Archer looked at the crew around him. Reed was checking systems, but it looked to all the world as if he were simply going through the motions. Mayweather could have been asleep on duty, such was the enthusiasm he had for keeping the ship controlled and parked. The science officer currently sitting in T'Pol's customary seat, an Ensign from his uniform pips, was plodding through some kind of work as if he had his mind on bigger things.

Archer rubbed a hand over his chin in thought. T'Pol. She's the only one not up here. And why is that again? Because when she's not on duty she has something to look forward to. She has something to explore that isn't simply her job. He looked around again. What do we have? What have we turned into? What have I done to these people?

He got up abruptly. "Lieutenant Reed - you're in charge," he said suddenly. Reed looked up, surprised. "I need to speak to that space station."

"Yes sir," Reed responded.

Archer turned and left the bridge.

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.

Sisko went into the prefect's office and sat down. He looked at the comms equipment on his desk for a moment before he swung his chair to look out of the window. Then he looked back at the screen. His head went out and he touched the requisite button. "Sisko to Major Kira. Can you put me through to the ship, please? Private channel."

"Channel open, sir - audio only. You're through to Captain Archer's office."

Sisko cleared his throat. "Captain. This is Sisko. About our failure to separate the time bubble a short time ago…"

"Captain. It's good to hear your voice," Archer replied. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Go ahead." Sisko sat back, resting his head on the chair to consider the ceiling.

"Do you have any idea how we get out of this?"

"My first officer has it under control," Sisko smiled. "She's confident she can perform the separation whenever we're ready."

"Right." Archer paused. "This is going to sound forward, but… Well I was wondering if you'd bring a few crew over here to meet some of mine."

"Can I ask why?"

"I'll be honest with you - we need it. We need a bit of hope for the future. My crew need… a distraction, some good news, something to give them a break from the routine." Archer sighed. "It's selfish, and it's a dangerous thing to ask."

"We'll be there at nineteen hundred," Sisko grinned. "I'll keep it to fifty officers. They'll be briefed on things they can't talk about."

There was a long pause. "Thank you, Captain. I'll warn our chef."

"Oh if I know my people, we'll bring our own."

"Then I look forward to receiving your crew."

"Expect a few runabouts - shuttles. It'll be faster than beaming with that amount of people."

"Understood. Archer out."

Sisko sat back. He reached out and picked up his baseball, only to toss it high in the air and catch with enthusiasm.

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Dax pulled Kira along by the arm, hurrying them up to the doors of the officer's mess on the Enterprise. "Now you do exactly as I told you and this will work perfectly," she said. She whisked two large bottles out from under her arms and handed them to Kira.

She took them dumbly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Romulan ale is perfect for this evening," Dax grinned. "Just make sure one whole bottle gets dumped in each of the two bowls of punch, ok?"

Kira rolled her eyes. "Why do I listen to you?"

"Because it's more fun that way." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and pressed the door release.

Groups of blue and black uniforms were clumped about in nervous packs of soft talking, with red and grey Bajoran ones mixed in at odd intervals. Dax took a few steps in - and then her face fell.

"Oh no," she said with distaste. "It's worse than I thought." She walked in but veered off to one side, waving Kira in and then opening a relatively old communicator. She began speaking into it quietly.

"Commander," came a voice from behind her.

She finished her conversation quickly and snapped it shut. Upon turning she found Malcolm Reed with a cup of tea in his hand. "Malcolm. Hi," she grinned.

"Oh, uh, yes," he managed in surprise.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I called you 'Lieutenant'?" she said knowingly.

"To some extent, yes," he said.

"Well too bad. Come with me, Malcolm, because we have people to speak to while we still can." She looped her hand through his arm and yanked him off with her toward a familiar brown uniform to their right. "T'Pol! Mister Tucker!" she said excitedly.

The two officers broke from their demure conversation with two Bajorans in security uniforms to turn to them.

"Commander," T'Pol said.

"It's Jadzia - we're off the clock now," she grinned. She looked at Malcolm to her right and then Trip to her left. Her arms went out and she grabbed them by the shoulders, lurching them over to squeeze them to her sides in big hugs. She looked dead ahead at T'Pol. "The four of us, together at last. This is going to be great!"

"What do you mean, at last?" Tucker asked innocently.

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Sisko walked across the bridge, nodding to each of the skeleton crew still there. He pressed at the chime on the ready room door. "Captain? Permission to interrupt you."

The door slid open and Archer looked up at him. "Come in, Captain, please."

"Benjamin," Sisko said. "So. Feel like going to a meet 'n greet?"

"In a minute," Archer said. "Thought we'd have some of the good stuff up here before we venture down to the sedate and oh-so-official silent mingling down in the officer's mess."

"I like the way you think," Sisko smiled. He stepped in and the door shut behind him.

Archer went to his desk and opened a bottom drawer, bringing out a bottle. "We got this from the Orion Syndicate. It's not exactly bourbon, but it's not bad."

"I've never had Orion alcohol," Sisko said. "We'll call this… exploration."

Archer grinned. "Look," he said, as he pulled out two glasses and began to unscrew the bottle. "I know how we treated you when we first met. I apologise for that. But like I said, this crew—"

"No explanation necessary," he said. "We know what it's like out here - Captain."

"Jon," he said, filling a glass and holding it out for him.

Sisko took it. "Jon." He lifted the glass as Archer finished pouring his. "To… faith. In all its many forms."

"I heard that, Benjamin," Archer said. They knocked the drinks back in one go, making them both pause to assess the damage to their throats for a moment. Archer cleared his. "Ok. Maybe… one more before we go to the sombre room downstairs."

"Agreed," Sisko said.

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Archer stood outside the door to the officer's mess. He looked at Sisko. "Well, here we go. Last hours of quiet contemplation about exploration before we all leave for good."

Sisko put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. Let's go."

Archer opened the door.

They gaped.

Some kind of loud Bajoran drum music was coming from the back of the room. Something off to their right was on fire, and in front of the windows to their left were two officers - one in blue, one in red - grappling it out to the clapping and whistling of assembled spectators. An arm-wrestling match was taking place on top of the chef's display case, and several people were on tables dancing or clapping along to the beat.

The two captains looked at each other. They stepped inside to let the door shut.

"Daaaaaxx!" Sisko bellowed.

A grey and black uniform freed itself from the throng and she appeared in front of them. Her uniform jacket was open and her sleeves were partly rolled up. There were dark spots on the grey shoulders of her uniform that, even from that distance, looked suspiciously like alcohol.

"Sir!" she grinned, raising her right hand to her forehead in an old-fashioned salute.

"What is going on here, Commander?" Sisko demanded.

Dax lifted a hand to begin counting off fingers. "Two sanctioned fights, one wrestling match, one fire-eater, one Bajoran band, two bottles of Romulan ale, a bottle of something called Jack Daniels, two more bottles of something called Stol-ich-naya, three arm-wrestling matches, one drinking contest, a darts match, one poker tournament and… wait, I know I'm forgetting something…"

A loud cry was heard and someone was catapulted up and out of the crowd behind her left shoulder. He landed face-down next to Dax's boots. Archer crouched immediately to help the man up, but he simply brushed down his Enterprise uniform, nodded in thanks, and then turned and ran to squeeze back into the crowd - who shouted and whooped in joy at his arrival.

"Oh - and Worf is crew tossing," she said matter-of-factly. "I knew I was forgetting something."

Sisko put his hands on his hips, his face going dark with anger. "Commander, this is not what I meant by a leaving party."

"Which is why it's a good thing you told me to go on ahead, Benjamin," she said, folding her arms. "Honestly. If it were up to you we'd all be standing around talking like we're at a funeral."

Sisko's face went hard.

Archer grinned. "Well I think it's great," he said. "I've never seen my crew have so much fun."

"Thank you, Captain," she said impishly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm currently winning an arm-wrestling match." She turned and disappeared back into the crowd like water in whisky.

The two captains looked at each other.

"Wise woman," Archer offered.

"You want her?" Sisko said. "I warn you, she's nearly four hundred years old and yes, she probably has seen this all before."

"Four hundred…?" Archer shook his head. "Drink, Benjamin?"

"Drink, Jon."

They made their way to the two large punch bowls by the crowds. "At least this is just punch," Archer said as he filled two large glasses to the top.

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The corridor was clean, wide, amused. It watched Archer walk down it with something of a tiny spring in his step. As he turned a corner he spotted two crew members coming his way. He nodded to them - and they smiled broadly as they nodded back.

He paused as they walked by. Then he straightened his shoulders and carried on, toward the door. He pressed the button to open it up. He looked inside.

The officer's mess was a state. Chairs were overturned, streamers and empty cups were strewn about the floor and furnishings, and a few pieces of clothing and burnt-out sticks adorned others.

Archer put his hands on his hips and shook his head. And then he smiled. He pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Archer to Deep Space Nine," he said. "We're all clear here. No-one was left behind last night."

"Good morning Captain," came Sisko's cheerful voice. "Glad to hear it. We've done a head-count and we're all present and correct. With your agreement, I'd like to get us separated now."

"Go ahead, Captain. Thank you for your help and hospitality."

"Thanks for letting us go home," Sisko grinned.

"Wherever Commander Dax is and whatever state she's in this morning, tell her I appreciate what she's done for us." He looked up to see three crew walk into the mess, and immediately start laughing and pointing at the carnage left behind. He couldn't help a chuckle.

"Will do, Captain. Happy trails."

"And you, Captain Sisko, and you. Twenty-second century out." He flipped the communicator closed and unzipped his uniform a tiny way. "Morning, crewmen," he said loudly.

The three women turned. "Oh! Sir!" one said. "We came to start clearing up, sir."

"I'll give you a hand." Then he smiled and got to work.

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Sisko turned from the crisis table to look up at Dax. "Ready, Old Man?"

She cradled her sizeable cup of raktajino and nodded. "As I'll ever be," she croaked, her throat understandably rough.

He leant forward and pressed a button. "Ok, Major. Whenever you're ready."

"Understood. Everyone hold onto something," came Kira's reply.

He cut the connection and stood back, his hands gripping the edge of the table. He looked around at the bleary-eyed but satisfied figures of Worf, O'Brien and Dax. Even Odo appeared weary as he watched from behind Dax's station.

Weary, but happy, he smiled. But not half as weary as Jon's crew right now, I'll bet.

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Kira got up from her kneel of prayer in front of the orb's box. She looked at the vedek and nodded, and he moved away, into the next room of the Bajoran shrine.

She heard more shoes and turned to see Poraal creeping round the corner. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Oh, don't be. You can watch if you like," Kira smiled.

"No, I mean… This was my fault," Poraal said. "I started all this off."

"However you did, I'm glad you did," Kira said. "And so is a ship of previously tired-out Starfleet officers over on that ship outside the window."

"I don't understand," Poraal said.

Kira waved her closer. "You don't have to. We have Prophets to do that for us."

Poraal smiled. "Now you sound like Raffik." She stepped closer, intrigued.

"I'm just grateful the orb was brought here. Now I have to send us all home. Seriously, you can watch if you want to. I know everyone else is along the promenade, but…"

Poraal waved a hand. "I don't care. I've seen space and ships come and go. But I'd like to see the orb at work."

Kira nodded. She turned to the box and took a deep breath. She put her hands to the doors.

And then she opened them.

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Along the promenade, people gasped and pointed as space itself turned blue. A giant wormhole-like haze descended on everything outside the window. It swirled and produced patterns and colours inside its gaseous form.

Suddenly it lifted, leaving behind the blackness of space, and the twinkle of stars.

"That's it?" Bashir grumped, shoulder to shoulder with Morn. "I expected… I don't know… a bubble to actually burst, or something."

Morn turned to him and opened his mouth.

"Oh yes, I know you've seen that before," Bashir said. "Quark's? Hair of the dog, and all that. I've got a huge hangover and I said I'd meet Miles in there for a game of darts."

Morn nodded, Bashir patted him on the back, and they drifted off with all the other spectators, across the promenade to the bar.

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Sisko looked over at Dax. "Well? Are we back to normal space?" he asked.

She frowned at her console, pressing at read-outs. "We are," she smiled, looking up. "We have communications refreshed across the board and cartography matches up. We're back."

"Phew," Sisko said, sharing a relieved look with Worf next to him. "Can you tell if we're… the same? What's changed?" he asked quickly.

Dax pressed a few more screens and read quickly. "Bajoran radio traffic is… unchanged. Starfleet's subspace signal is… unchanged. Same… Federation president, same… admiral of the line, same… everything. I think we're ok, Benjamin."

"Good. Keep checking. I want to make sure we haven't ruined anything," he said. She nodded and bent to her work. Sisko stepped back from the crisis table and went up the steps to the prefect's office. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see what Starfleet traffic has built up in my comms folder since we've been away." He paused at the top of the stairs. "As you were, people," he smiled.

Dax went back to her work, until a sudden comms beep caught her attention. She pressed at controls, ready to bring it to Sisko's attention, until she realised it was a message for her personally. Noting it was also text-only, she frowned as she secured her terminal, checked the message for dangerous viruses or similar, and then opened it up.

'I apologise for the interruption to your work. You have not met me nor heard of me before today, however I have been fortunate enough to listen to tales of you as you were and are now since I was very young. My name is P'Lars Tucker, and my grandmother, T'Pol of Vulcan, spoke very highly of you. She requested that I send you a message at this time, in this way, that we might open discourse over subspace. I hope to visit you once we have made satisfactory contact. She also requested that I ask you to re-examine your time as Tobin, as it's possible, unless quantum theory has changed since her time and yours, that some of Tobin's memories may be different now.'

Dax sat back, stunned. She leant forward and read the first part again - and then again. Then she grinned very, very widely.

'If it is agreeable to you, I can be on the station in a matter of weeks. I currently work at the Vulcan Embassy on Trill and can easily assign myself to an ambassadorial tour of your station. Please indicate if this would be acceptable. I can also guarantee that a crate of Romulan ale will accompany me. My grandfather was most insistent you understand that. He always said he still owed you for something. He said you would explain for me in due course. Yours, in spirit and understanding, P'Lars Tucker.'

Dax read it all the way through again. She looked over her shoulder at Sisko's office doors somewhat surreptitiously. And then, it was fair to say, she had never sent a welcoming reply so fast in all of her eight lives.

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T'Pol stepped out of Engineering, striding along the corridor. She paused suddenly, then turned right and went straight to her quarters.

Her fingers slid over the communications equipment in the desk. She sat and immediately got to work, connecting to the Starfleet registry to call up names, postings, comms frequencies. Finally, one name stood out and she regarded it for a long time.

Then she leant forward and began composing a message.

'I apologise for the interruption to your work. You have not met me nor heard of me before today, however I have been fortunate enough to listen to tales of you as you were and are now. My name is T'Pol of Vulcan, and I currently serve on the NX-01 Enterprise. In an incident that will never be made public, I met Dax. Not Tobin Dax, as you are now, but most definitely Dax. As we share an interest in engineering and science, I believe it would be beneficial if we were to remain in communication. The most practical way is to open discourse over subspace. I have two human colleagues here who would also be very interested to meet you. If it is agreeable to you, when we next arrive at Jupiter Station for maintenance we will be in a perfect place for the four of us to be together again. Please indicate if this would be acceptable. I can also guarantee that a crate of Romulan ale will accompany us. My colleague Mister Tucker says he owes it to you. Yours, in spirit and understanding, T'Pol.'

She sat and read it through many, many times. And then she pressed 'send'. She barely had time to clear down her terminal and stand up before there was an answering beep. She bent to read it, and was inordinately pleased to see just four words in reply: You're more than welcome.

She straightened up, put her hands behind her back, and strode out of her quarters with perhaps the tiniest spring in her step. Her walk took her to the officer's mess, where most people were filing out.

Archer had stepped back from the windows. Some crew members were giving the view of normal space one last, fond look, before turning away and leaving the room to go back to their posts.

The now very clean and very ship-shape officer's mess emptied very quickly, and Archer found himself standing with two other people.

"Home again home again, jiggety-jig," Tucker said quietly, as if to himself.

"I do not understand," T'Pol said.

Archer smiled. "We're back. And I think we're going to be ok."

"Yeah. That was some party," Tucker nodded. "Man am I glad she spiked the punch like that."

Archer chuckled. "I think I'll overlook that. After all, who am I going to tell?"

"She's got you there," he nodded.

T'Pol put her hands behind her back. "Engineering reports we are back to full running, Captain."

"So they actually got along for one day without you down there?" Archer asked Tucker.

"So they say. I'd like to check it," he said.

T'Pol looked at Archer. "With your permission, Captain, I would retire."

"Of course. You drank more than we did last night," Archer teased.

"You think that was a lot?" Tucker scoffed. "T'Pol can drink pretty much everyone under the table."

"I'm not going to ask how you know that," Archer said with an overly pleasant smile.

T'Pol inclined her head and walked away.

Tucker cleared his throat. "Anyway… I'll go give the ship a once-over, make sure we've got that nacelle sorted out once and for all."

"Hmm," Archer said faintly.

Tucker hesitated. "You ok, Captain?"

"You know what?" he said suddenly. "I think I am. I really do think I am. This whole thing has been such an eye-opener."

"You're telling me," Tucker said, running a hand through his hair.

"Everything feels… new. Like… I know what we're doing out here now, why it has to be us."

"Why does it have to be us?" Tucker asked, confused.

"Because we're explorers, and we're not the same as everyone back home on Earth."

"Well T'Pol certainly isn't."

"That's my point," Archer said, glancing at him. "Earth still hasn't realised how important it is that we're not alone in this. I think this whole time bubble thing has forced me to re-assess a lot of things."

Tucker shrugged. "I think a lot of people are feelin' that way this morning."

"I think we've found our way forward, Trip." He turned and looked at him. "I think… if we're going to survive beyond Earth, we have to learn to take a delight in the essential differences between Earth and other cultures. We have to learn that differences in ideas and attitudes are a bonus, that they're part of life's exciting variety, not something to fear."

Tucker grinned. "You been speakin' to Dax, too."

Archer chuckled. "A gentleman called Morn, actually. He's very… well-travelled."

"That he is, Captain."

"Well." Archer paused. "I think that's it. I think we need to go find new life where we can, explore their cultures and celebrate the differences we find."

Tucker slapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "And with that in mind, I'm off to prep for movie night."

Archer turned a confused look on him. "How do you 'explore' when it's the same old movies, Trip?"

"Oh Captain," he said with a grin, "you have no idea."

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FIN

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And that's a wrap! Thanks for reaching the end, folks!

And yes, Archer's speech is a Gene Roddenberry quote:

"If man is to survive, he will have learned to take a delight in the essential differences between men and between cultures. He will learn that differences in ideas and attitudes are a delight, part of life's exciting variety, not something to fear."

LLAP, everyone. And PALL.