Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!in.100proofnews.com!cycny01.gnilink.net!cyclone1.gnilink.net!gnilink.net!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 1182 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: sisko2374@aol.com (Sisko2374) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 14 Oct 2004 14:06:38 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: REP DS9 "Sarah" JoS [PG] 1/2 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20041014100638.19078.00002593@mb-m29.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161068 X-Received-Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2004 07:07:10 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: "Sarah" Author: Sisko2374 Series: DS9 Rating: PG Codes: Joseph Sisko, Sarah Sisko Part: 1 of 2 Summary: A non-linear story about Ben Sisko's mother, Sarah, told in a linear Disclaimer: Paramount owns all, I do not exist. Archive: Yes to all Prologue: Tyree, 2375, in a vision of the Prophets They were seated in the garden dining area of Sisko's Creole Kitchen on Earth. But Ben Sisko knew that they weren't really there. They were on the planet Tyree. And this was an Orb vision. The woman seated before him was not really his mother, Sarah Sisko, only an image of her. If what she said was true, she was his mother in a very real sense. She was a wormhole alien, a member of a twelfth dimensional energy species transcending linear time and space, a species that most Bajorans worshiped as gods. Gods whom they called the Prophets. This particular Bajoran "god" had shared his mother's linear, corporeal existence. Ben Sisko's mind was reeling at the realization of what the Prophet had told him. "What you're telling me isn't easy to accept. You arranged my birth. I exist because of you?" The Prophet's reply, though sympathetic and motherly in tone, illuminated nothing for the one they called 'The Sisko'. "The Sisko's path is a difficult one." Ben Sisko suddenly felt an overwhelming need for resolution, an answer to that one burning question that gnawed at him from the depths of the universe. "But why me? Why did it have to be me?" The Prophet's reply was devastating in its simplicity. "Because it could be no one else." Earth, New Orleans, June 2331, Before the Prophets He had first met her in the center of Jackson Park. It was a typically hot and humid June day. Despite the cool comfort of the restaurant, he was feeling restless and a bit at loose ends. Something seemed to draw him beyond the windows to the sunlight outside. Throwing down his apron he told Mark to take over. He'd be back soon. Just needed a stroll outside, get some air. That's all. Wandering into the park along one of the sidewalks that fed into the center like spokes in a wheel, he seated himself under an oak tree to watch the mimes, clowns and jugglers perform. Their motion was hypnotic, enhanced by a heady smell of lilacs that filled the air. Under their spell, he slowly nodded off in the noon day sun. "Say cheese!" The sound of a holo-camera startled him awake. He found himself staring into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And she was smiling at him. Joseph spoke with some trepidation, babbling the first words that spilled out of his head. "Do you specialize in photo studies of the somnolent? Its not fair you know. You didn't catch me at my best." She was stunningly beautiful. It wasn't just her beauty that intimidated him though. He had never been all that successful with women. He was shy by nature. Never good with an opening line. Never quite comfortable being himself. If he reflected upon his past few attempts at relationships, he realized that the only time he had been somewhat successful was when women approached him. Perhaps that was as it should be. "A handsome man is a handsome man, asleep or awake." He got up and bowed slightly. Words formed on his lips, almost naturally. "Well, I don't think I've ever been awakened by such a lovely vision." He pinched himself. She laughed. "My, my, aren't you the charmer?" She extended her hand. "I'm Sarah." Lightly taking her hand, he bent forward again and brought his lips to within a few millimeters of her long fingers, almost caressing them. It was sheer impulse on his part. "I'm Joseph." Her smile was a second sun blinding his eyes. "I hadn't realized the men were so gallant still in New Orleans." "Oh, it runs in the family." He was still holding her hand. "You're not from here then I take it?" Her fingers slipped out of his. She busied herself with her camera. "No, I'm just a tourist. A valley girl from L.A. really." He chuckled slightly. "Just beaming in for the day or are you actually..." She looked up. "Staying? Why yes I am. At the Hotel Lafayette." "Mmmm. Nice choice. Historic 19th century, complete with period furnishings. You were lucky to get the reservation." "Why yes, I suppose I was." The camera whirred and a disc popped out into her hand. "Here you go, a souvenir from me." As he held the disc in his hand, a three dimensional image of himself asleep under the tree appeared. "What are you going to call this one?" "How about 'Sleeping beauty'?" They both laughed. "Have you had lunch yet? I'm the proprietor of Sisko's Creole Kitchen. Its not far. Perhaps you would let me repay you for the holograph with lunch and a tour of our beautiful city afterwards?" "Why, Mr. Sisko that would please me to no end. But I need to finish my photo study while the mimes are still here. Why don't we meet at your restaurant, say eightish?" Joseph beamed. "That would be marvelous!" All the way back to the restaurant he seemed to be floating on air. He skipped so lightly through the door that even Mark took notice. "Hey, that stroll must have done you some good. Either that or you stayed in the sun too long." Joseph glided into the kitchen. "Mark, I've got a date with an angel tonight, and you and I are going to cook up a storm that will impress the Gods." He chose the table that he always kept reserved by the window for close friends and special guests, all the while not quite believing that she would actually show up. As the sun was sinking toward the horizon she suddenly appeared in the doorway in a yellow dress. Her eyes sought him out. Rising from his chair he held out his hand. She smiled and walked toward him. He took her hand and seated her. He was so glad she could make it. She was looking forward to dinner. He suggested the shrimp creole. She thought it was superb. Was the recipe his own? "My father's actually." "So this restaurant's been in your family for a while then?" He shifted back in his chair, took a sip of wine. Outside in the street, a horse drawn carriage slowly rolled past. "Not really. My father took it over after he dropped out of Starfleet Academy. He decided he wanted to stay on Earth. I suppose that was because of the little incident with my grandfather. He was Admiral Cartwright." She stopped eating and paused thoughtfully. "Oh, that Admiral Cartwright? Of the Khitomir Accords?" He nodded, shrugged and lifted his palms. "Unfortunately, all of our ancestors can't be virtuous can they? My father was just too ashamed to continue at the academy. So he wound up here. I guess I sort of take after him. I really don't want to do anything else or go anywhere. I like it here just fine." "Well, I really like a man who stays in one place at one job. So rare these days. And it's a wonderful service that you're performing, too. People get so bored with replicated food now. The woman who catches you will really be the lucky one." He smiled nervously and shifted slightly in his seat. "So what about you? Have you been doing photography long?" "Not at all. I just started this year. Six months more and I'll have my certification. I used to do exo-archaeology. My last project was on Cestus III. We uncovered the remains of an early Gorn colony, one established far earlier than the Gorns themselves were aware of. The Gorn archaeologists were fun to work with. I enjoyed it immensely. But frankly, I have an untreatable allergy to dust. Digging around in dirty old ruins just gives me the hives. So here I am. But whether I'll stick with photography for long...I don't know. I was thinking about becoming a tectonics technician. The planetary referendum on the new Mid-Atlantic sub-continent will be coming up for a vote pretty soon. Now that's something I'd like to be a part of, creating a new land mass right here on earth." He shook his head. "They've been trying to get that one through every ten years since my grandpa's time. It'll never pass. Why do we need another continent here on earth? There's plenty of room. And what about the disruption of the Gulf Stream that building such a micro-continent will cause? Do we really want to turn Europe into a deep freeze? If people need new land to explore, there's plenty out there in space." He paused. She was intimidating. So much more engaged in the world than he. That only intensified the attraction he felt for her. "But it sounds to me like you're one of those new butterflies we hear so much about lately, flitting from profession to profession all your life." She took a sip of wine and slyly smiled back. "I think they've solved the Gulf stream problem. And as for me being a 'butterfly', you must be one of those nasty old 'caterpillars', staying in the same old place, year after year, never shedding your furry coat, never venturing off the tree bark, never exploring the world." She paused. "But you know something? I like caterpillars." He laughed. "Lucky for me. Say, would you like to go to a concert this evening? It's a tribute to Miles Davis." 'I'd love to! What time?" "It starts in half an hour. We better leave right now. We can make it if we take a carriage." "Sounds lovely." They left Armstrong park, arm in arm, strolling through the night. "That was a great concert," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it," he replied dreamily. "Miles' music seems so alive, even after four centuries. Don't you think?" She nodded and kissed him. "Would you be so gallant as to escort a lady back to her hotel?" Despite the presence of the people leaving the concert, he felt as though they were alone in the night, floating high above the city. Her perfume was intoxicating. "Could a gentleman do any less?" he replied in his best attempt at nonchalance. Together they walked hand in hand back to the historic Lafayette Hotel. Earth, New Orleans, July 2331, Sisko's Creole Kitchen, The Proposal Morning sunlight cast long rays of sunshine through the windows of Sisko's Creole Kitchen. Sarah stood in the middle of the room, her hand on her cheek, contemplating. She turned to Joseph coming down the stairs. "You know I have this old piano that's been restored countless times. Its been in my family for generations. It would be just perfect over here. What do you think?" He smiled and walked toward her. "I think it's a lovely idea. It would really enhance the atmosphere. It would be even more lovely if someone serenaded our customers. Especially if that someone was you." His arms encircled her waist as he gently pulled her towards him. She draped her arms around the back of his neck. "I've got a surprise for you," she cooed. "Really! Should I close my eyes?" "If you want." "Okay, my eyes are closed. Now...what's my surprise?" "I'm pregnant!" Joseph swallowed, smiled and opened his eyes. Though they'd only been together for a month, she had already moved in. She was already a part of his life. And, he liked to think, he of hers as well. But a doubt lingered in the back of his mind. Did she really want to share the rest of her life with him? Surely that was the meaning of the words that she spoke. Surely. "Well...congratulations!" The words tumbled awkwardly off his lips. She giggled. "Congratulations to you too!" "So...how do you feel about...families?" She cast a sideways look at him. "You mean theoretically? Sociologically? In the abstract or the concrete? Personally? What kind of families are we talking about here? Extended? Nuclear? Open? Is that a scientific question on your part or a personal one? Just exactly what do you mean by that Mr. Sisko?" He became flustered. "All I mean is...do you want to get married?" "I think that's a charming idea. Why yes, Mr. Sisko I accept your proposal. I'll even take your name!" "Oh my, we are romantic aren't we? I suppose you'll want to have the ceremony performed in one of New Orleans historic cathedrals as well?" She playfully pushed him away. "Let's not get too romantic about the past. The restaurant will be just fine. More intimate. Just family and friends?" "Sounds marvelous." Earth, New Orleans, July 2331, The Gift Shop "Look, let's go in there!" Sarah pointed toward a swinging sign ahead; 'Off World Gifts, Exchanged, Bought and Sold Here. A Currency Store. M. R'chal Proprietor'. "Oh, that's one of those Bolian currency shops. That's for tourists, off-worlders. Do you really want to go in there?" She squeezed his hand tighter. "Sure, why not? We can browse. It'll be fun." A tinkle of Vulcan wind chimes announced their entry. "Welcome!" From behind a long counter a stout Bolian garbed in a flamboyant orange Rigelian suit greeted them . "I'm Monsieur R'chal, at your service. What can I do for you today? Jewelry, antiques? You name it, we've got it. Gifts from across the galaxy. No one leaves empty handed or disappointed from Monsieur R'chal's gift shop." A heavy scent of Argelian perfume wafted across the counter from the Bolian. His concern for the nasal sensibilities of his customers was apparent. Somewhat taken aback by it all, Joseph cleared his throat. "We're just browsing." The shopkeeper smiled indulgently. "Of course. If anything strikes your fancy, just ask." "Thank you," Sarah smiled at the Bolian and began to roam the aisles. It seemed to be mostly nick- knacks; silver tea services, both Vulcan and Klingon, Romulan ale flasks, Andorian steak knife sets, nothing spectacular. But over in one corner of the store, what appeared to be an odd shaped cask caught her eye. She walked over and touched the top. It was a chest of some sort. Her index finger glided along the surface. A tingling electrical spark of energy seemed to leap onto her hand. "What is this?" she asked the Bolian clerk. "Bajoran orb ark." he replied. "It's a religious artifact. Bajorans believe it connects them to their gods. Not many like it. The Cardassians confiscated most of them when they occupied the Bajoran system about three years ago. This particular one might be over 10,000 years old." Joseph frowned. "Shouldn't this be in a Bajoran museum or temple or something?" The Bolian shrugged. "That would be the same as turning it over to the Cardassians. Maybe you should buy it and hold it for the Bajoran people? I can let you have it for 70,000 Bolian credits." Joseph waved his right hand. "Sorry, we're humans. We don't have any money." The Bolian snorted derisively. "Not like I don't hear that one every day." Leaning across the counter he whispered conspiratorially, "But confidentially you people are loaded. You've all got some cash on the side. Know what I mean?" Joseph spread his hands, speaking loudly. "What's the big secret? There's no government here. No one's going to be arrested for having 'money' or not having 'money'. I don't understand." The Bolian ceased whispering. "Yeah, I know. Humans always 'claim' they don't have money when what they're really doing is haggling down the price." Joseph turned his nose in the air. "Well in this case it a happens to be true. We don't have any money." The Bolian shook his head. "Must be a matter of pride with you people. I really don't understand it myself. If it wasn't for the alien tourists, I'd go broke on this world." "Well at least you'll never starve. Come on over and check out the jambalaya at my restaurant sometime." He handed the Bolian a card. The Bolian took it. "My taste runs more towards foods that are, shall we say, some what aged. Don't happen to serve any Bolian dishes do you?" "Not yet. But if you ever get tired of this shop, I'll be happy to apprentice you in the restaurant business. You can start by teaching me how to make Bolian stew." Turning toward his fiancé he shifted his tone. "I really think we ought to be going honey. We'll be late for the concert." "Wait Joseph." One of the white oval side panels on the orb box had popped open under Sarah's touch. There was a small compartment within. Reaching inside she pulled out a metal disc on a chain. "Look!. There's a lovely locket here." She held the jewelry up to the late afternoon sunlight. The Bolian walked over and held out his hand. Sarah handed him the chain. "Funny. I never noticed a hidden compartment on this before." "Can I buy that?" Sarah asked, pointing toward the dangling jewelry. "Separately?' A triumphant smile spread across the Bolian's broad face. "I thought you had money!" He wrapped the chain around the necklace and put it back inside the hidden compartment. "Sorry, folks. It comes with the box. Have to sell it as one package. But I can knock off 5,000 for you." He eyed Joseph. "Nothing more exotic than off-world jewelry. Particularly Bajoran. Very romantic." Joseph held out his hands, palms upward, looking at Sarah with a whimsical but apologetic expression. "I really don't have that kind of money! I'd have to sell a hell of a lot of Creole cook books off world for that." He pointed at the orb box. "If you two are a little short, I can take something on trade maybe? Old Earth antiques? Paintings? Historic documents?" the Bolian pressed. Sarah idly let her left hand caress the top of the orb box as if bidding adieu to an old keepsake. "Perhaps another time," she smiled as she took Joseph's hand. Together they walked out the door toward Jackson square. Earth, New Orleans, August 2331, The Wedding "How do I look?" Mark made a last adjustment to Joseph's bow tie and stepped away. "Like you stepped off a 22nd century wedding cake! How do you feel?" Joseph smiled nervously. "Great! That is if a million butterflies flying around in your stomach is normal." Mark laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do just fine." "Have you got the rings?" Mark slipped his hand into the side pocket of his tux. "Right here. Nothing to worry about." Joseph sighed. "Long as she says 'I do'." Mark rolled his eyes. "How could she say anything else? Come on, let's go downstairs. Its time." The dining area of Sisko's Creole Kitchen had been cleared of tables, replaced by neat rows of chairs for the wedding guests. Sarah's family was in the front row. Faithful customers formed the bulk of those in attendance. In the kitchen, two assistant chefs were putting the finishing touches to the giant wedding cake. Joseph and Mark took their place at the front of the aisle. Sarah made her entrance from the garden dining area to the tune of the traditional "wedding march". One of Joseph's cousins, a Starfleet officer, had asked to do the honors of joining the two in matrimony. "Do you, Sarah Russell, take Joseph Sisko to be your spouse? To honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" A wisp of a smile showed through her white veil as Sarah's lips whispered "I do." "And do you, Joseph Sisko, take Sarah Russell to be your spouse? To honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" The words seemed to leap right out of Joseph's heart. "I do." Earth, New Orleans, March 2332, The Baby "What do you want to call our son?" She smiled at the baby in her arms. "I've always liked Benjamin. There are a lot of Bens in my family. What about his middle name?" He pondered for a moment. "How about Lafayette?" "For where he was conceived? As in the Hotel Lafayette? You're bad!" Laughing, she playfully slapped him on the arm. "It'll be our little secret." he smiled. "Benjamin Lafayette Sisko. I like it. It's a strong name. With a name like that he'll have to be the Federation president someday, or an ambassador, or at least a star fleet officer." "Or a great chef!" Joseph countered. "Maybe." she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him. Benjamin Lafayette Sisko: a Life, the First Time As the years went by, Sarah and Joseph's son showed a propensity for two things; leadership and a dream of being in Star Fleet. Beyond that, his childhood was not exceptional. He went through the usual adolescent crushes, the first on a girl called Chloe. As Ben grew into a young man Joseph had hopes of his son following in his footsteps and becoming a chef, maybe even taking over the restaurant one day. And Ben did help out in the kitchen from time to time. But when Ben passed his Starfleet Academy entrance exam, no one was more pleased and proud than Sarah and Joseph. The day Ben graduated from the Academy Joseph pulled out all the stops for a bang up feast at the restaurant. A live jazz band played all night at Sisko's Creole Kitchen. When Ben brought Jennifer home the Siskos immediately took a liking to her. And when their daughter in law gave them a grandson they were overjoyed. Then tragedy struck when Jennifer died at the battle of Wolf 359 on the Saratoga. Joseph and Sarah grieved with their son. As the years passed they grew worried. Jennifer's death had left a dark rage inside of him that wouldn't go away, even when he tried to hide from it by burying himself in work at the Design Bureau of the Utopia Planetia Shipyards on Mars. They had offered to take Jake if he wanted. Let the boy grow up on Earth. But Ben had said no. Jake was all he had left of Jennifer. His son was the most important thing in his life now. He had to raise him. After Ben took the appointment at Deep Space Nine he began writing home of his encounters with the aliens that lived in the Bajoran wormhole. Aliens so strange that they had no understanding of linear time or our universe. The odd thing was that even though they claimed no awareness of Bajor or of having sent the Bajorans orbs, the Bajorans had predicted that Ben Sisko would find "the celestial temple", that he was in fact some kind of emissary from the wormhole aliens, whom the Bajorans called Prophets. Neither Sarah or Joseph quite understood all of this. However, their interest was piqued after Sarah finally convinced Joseph to stop being a caterpillar, leave the restaurant to her for a few weeks and go visit their son and grandson on DS9. When Joseph returned, he told her the strange story of their son's dream of being a writer in 20th century New York. A writer with the same name as her family's, Russell. Sarah wrote it off as just that, a dream. Even after she happened to mention it to her own father, who said that there was a family story that the Russells used to live in New York centuries ago before they settled in L.A.. Supposedly that was where the family piano came from too. As the war with the Dominion heated up over the next few months, the Sisko's received an encoded communique from their son. "I may not come back from this one. Look after Jake in case I don't." Deep Space Nine, Bajoran Temple, 2374 Dukat/Kostamojan kneeled over Jadzia Dax's limp form. "I had no wish to harm you," Dukat managed to say. But time was wasting. Dukat stepped to the Orb ark on the dais and pulled the doors open. The station temple was flooded with white light. Kost Amojan immediately fled Gul Dukat's body, launching himself into the Orb on a beam of red plasma. Riding the energy of the Prophet's Orb into all the other Orbs, he fractionated himself into the spatial-temporal nodal points of the twelfth dimensional crystals that transcended linear space/time. His plan was simple. He would destroy the Orbs, blinding the Prophets, then enter the wormhole and attack. But first there was an errand to take care of a few thousand light years and some forty three years ago on a planet called Earth. Before he destroyed all the Orbs he would first make use of the one the Prophets thought so secret, the Orb of the Emissary. How poetically ironic. He would use the Orb of the Emissary to destroy their precious Emissary. Earth, New Orleans, July 2331, the Gift Shop, The Second Time Line Begins "Look, let's go in there!!" Sarah pointed toward a swinging sign ahead; 'Off World Gifts, Exchanged, Bought and Sold Here. A Currency Store. M. R'chal Proprietor'. "Oh, that's one of those Bolian currency shops. That's for tourists, off-worlders Do you really want to go in there?" She squeezed his hand tighter. "Sure, why not? We can browse. It'll be fun." A tinkle of Vulcan wind chimes announced their entry. "Welcome!" From behind a long counter a stout Bolian garbed in a flamboyant orange Rigelian suit greeted them . "I'm Monsieur R'chal, at your service. What can I do for you today? Jewelry, antiques? You name it, we've got it. Gifts from across the galaxy. No one leaves empty handed or disappointed from Monsieur R'chal's gift shop." A heavy scent of Argelian perfume wafted across the counter from the Bolian. His concern for the nasal sensibilities of his customers was apparent. Somewhat taken aback by it all, Joseph cleared his throat. "We're just browsing." The shopkeeper smiled indulgently. "Of course. If anything strikes your fancy, just ask." "Thank you," Sarah smiled at the Bolian and began to roam the aisles. It seemed to be mostly nick knacks; silver tea services, both Vulcan and Klingon, Romulan ale flasks, Andorian steak knife sets, nothing spectacular. But over in one corner of the store, what appeared to be an odd shaped cask caught her eye. She walked over and touched the top. It was a chest of some sort. Her index finger glided along the surface. A tingling electrical spark of energy seemed to leap onto her hand. "What is this?" she asked the Bolian clerk. "Bajoran orb ark." he replied. "It's a religious artifact. Bajorans believe it connects them to their gods. Not many like it. The Cardassians confiscated most of them when they occupied the Bajoran system about three years ago. This particular one might be over 10,000 years old." Joseph frowned. "Shouldn't this be in a Bajoran museum or temple or something?" The Bolian shrugged. "That would be the same as turning it over to the Cardassians. Maybe you should buy it and hold it for the Bajoran people? I can let you have it for 70,000 Bolian credits." Joseph waved his right hand. "Sorry, we're humans. We don't have any money." Five meters away, Sarah continued to explore the Orb box. The electric tingling from the box was growing more intense. A voice echoed in her mind. Open the portal. Sarah's hands dropped from the top of the orb box to the doors. She pulled. A brilliant white radiance flooded the store. "Hey, don't mess with the merchandise!" shouted the Bolian. "If you break it ..." A red beam of plasma shot out of the orb straight into Sarah's chest. She collapsed to the floor. "Sarah!" Joseph leapt to her side. His hand touched first her throat, then her wrist for a pulse. Nothing. "My god!" he shouted to the shop keeper. "Don't just stand there, call a hospital! Medical emergency transport!" The Bolian, his mouth agape, numbly nodded and went to his wall communicator. Moments later, Joseph and Sarah disappeared in a sparkle of transporter energy. The waiting room was purgatory. He paced back and forth like a caged lion. Idly, he numbly chewed on his lower lip. He wasn't even aware he was bleeding till a passing nurse gently sat him down, dabbing and spraying his self-inflicted wound. All he could manage to say was the same words he endlessly repeated to anyone who would listen. "Is she going to be all right?" After an eternity, a doctor came out to see him in the waiting area. Thirty feet away he could read in her face what she was going to say. "Oh no!" "Mr. Sisko, I'm sorry. But there was nothing we could do. Every nerve ending, every brain cell in her body was destroyed by the energy discharge from that alien artifact. We don't even know why it occurred. The artifact is completely inert. It apparently fused into a solid black crystalline mass at the moment of discharge." The words echoed nonsensically in his mind. All he could make out was "nothing we could do, nothing we could do." "Isn't this a hospital?" his voice shot back through a wall of tears and pain. "People aren't supposed to die here! It's the 24th century! Why didn't you save her?" "Mr. Sisko...." the doctor placed her hand on his shoulder. "she didn't suffer." "Oh God! Why didn't you save her?" Two nurses gently picked up the broken, sobbing form on the floor and led him into a small room with a diagnostic bed. As they laid him down, he heard and felt the whoosh of a hypo. Blessed oblivion came. Then there was sleep. But it wasn't peaceful. END Part 1 of "Sarah" NewMessage: Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!border2.nntp.dca.giganews.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m2.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 383 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: sisko2374@aol.com (Sisko2374) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 14 Oct 2004 14:13:36 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: REP DS9 "Sarah" JoS [PG] 2/2 Message-ID: <20041014101336.19078.00002594@mb-m29.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161069 X-Received-Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2004 07:14:09 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: "Sarah" Author: Sisko2374 Series: DS9 Rating: PG Codes: Joseph Sisko, Sarah Sisko Part: 2 Summary: A non linear story about Ben Sisko's mother, Sarah, told in a linear After he left the hospital, the days ran endlessly one into another. He called her family in L.A. Mercifully, the Russells didn't seem to blame him. Then there was the funereal, in L.A. of course. And the reception. And the words of comfort and the talk about her life. And how everyone knew from everything she said how much she had loved him. And he her. And please stay in touch. And then it was time to go back. Back to the restaurant. Back to life. Time to get on with it. Life is supposed to go on. Its supposed to. For most. The customers were politely sympathetic of course. But something had changed in the restaurant. His magic was gone. As the years passed, the old customers drifted away one by one. But it didn't matter. The restaurant stayed open anyway. Sisko's Creole Kitchen was still open the day that Joseph died, an old man, alone and childless. Bajoran Wormhole, Beyond Linear Time "The Sisko is gone." Ripples from the change in linear causality flashed across the space-time continuum and into the wormhole. Then darkness. "Kost Amojan has destroyed the Orbs. He is coming." The One Who Stood Aside When the Sisko Appeared sensed something new in the others. The Sisko would have called it panic. The others sensed her calm. "What can you see?" Her form stretched to open the portal into the Alpha Quadrant. A flash of eons. "We are not of Bajor." A wave of despair rolled across the surviving Prophets. The One Who Stood Aside rallied them. "Kost Amojan thinks as he has nearly become ... linear. I have a plan. You must hold Kost Amojan until I return." She sensed the will to resist spreading among them. Positioning herself in the center of the wormhole, The One Who Stood Aside slipped sideways in linear time, then disappeared. Earth, New Orleans, June 2331, the Gift Shop, the Third Time Line Begins A sudden gust of wind shot down the sidewalk, nearly pushing Sarah Russell off her feet. An old fashioned sign creaked overhead, swinging wildly, catching her attention.'Off World Gifts, Exchanged, Bought and Sold Here. A Currency Store. M. R'chal Proprietor'. Bemused, she stopped and wondered if the proprietor would appreciate some professional holo-publicity shots of him and his store. They would make nice postcards. Good publicity. Maybe he would be willing to trade some tourist bauble for them. A tinkle of Vulcan wind chimes announced her entry into the store. "Welcome!" From behind a long counter a stout Bolian garbed in a flamboyant orange Rigelian suit greeted her . "I'm Monsieur R'chal, at your service. What can I do for you today? Jewelry, antiques? You name it, we've got it. Gifts from across the galaxy. No one leaves empty handed or disappointed from Monsieur R'chal's gift shop." A heavy scent of Argelian perfume wafted across the counter from the Bolian. His concern for the nasal sensibilities of his customers was apparent. Somewhat taken aback by it all, Sarah nonetheless pressed to the point. "I was just strolling by and your shop caught my attention. I'm a professional holo-photographer and I was wondering if you'd be interested in some photo publicity shots?." The shopkeeper smiled indulgently. "Nothing is free here my dear. But you're welcome to take a look around. Go ahead, take a few pictures. If you find something that you like and I like your photo shoots then maybe we can do business." "Thank you," Sarah smiled at the Bolian and began to roam the aisles. It seemed to be mostly nick knacks; silver tea services, both Vulcan and Klingon, Romulan ale flasks, Andorian steak knife sets, nothing spectacular. But over in one corner of the store, what appeared to be an odd shaped cask caught her eye. She walked over and touched the top. It was a chest of some sort. Her index finger glided along the surface. A tingling electrical spark of energy seemed to leap onto her hand. "What is this?" she asked the Bolian clerk. "Bajoran orb ark." he replied. "It's a religious artifact. Bajorans believe it connects them to their gods. Not many like it. The Cardassians confiscated most of them when they occupied the Bajoran system about three years ago. This one might be over 10,000 years old." "Its beautiful!" The Bolian shrugged. "It does have a certain aesthetic appeal about it. But frankly, I think its out of your price range. 70,000 Bolian credits. I've got a nice set of Andorian steak knives over there." Ignoring the Bolian's suggested alternative, Sarah continued to explore the Orb box. The electric tingling from the box was growing more intense. A voice echoed in her mind. Open the portal. Sarah's hands dropped from the top of the orb box to the doors. She pulled. A brilliant white radiance flooded the store. "Hey, don't mess with the merchandise!" shouted the Bolian. "If you break it ..." A blue beam of plasma shot out of the orb straight into Sarah's chest. She collapsed to the floor. The One Who Stood Aside When the Sisko Appeared, felt something on her face. A gentle but steady pat. She heard something. A concerned voice. A Bolian. Yes, that was the name of this particular linear species. "Ms.! Ms.!" The Bolian kneeling over her, holding her wrist and gently patting her face, had a shrill tone to his voice. "Are you all right?" Sarah/Prophet smiled and sat up."Yes, of course. I'd like to buy that Bajoran Orb. I have an off-world account with the First Bolian Bank." A look of relief passed over the Bolian's face. "Yes, of course! I thought you had money! Tell you what, I'll even knock off 10,000 for you. Just don't say anything about your little accident to anyone. Humans sometimes tend to blow these things way out of proportion you know." Rising to her feet Sarah/Prophet assured him that nothing would be said. The Bolian brought out a data padd with a purchase contract and she pressed her thumb to it. "By the way, could you hold my Orb for me? Somewhere in the back? Just till I need to pick it up." "Sure, how soon would that be?" "Oh, about two years." The Bolian's jaw dropped. "Two years!" "I'd really appreciate it, especially after my little accident and all." The Bolian swallowed. "Certainly, no problem. What name should I put it under?" "Sarah Russell. No, wait. Make that Sarah Sisko." Her hand glided over the side of the Orb. A compartment popped open. Reaching in, she pulled out an ancient Bajoran locket. As she put it around her neck the Bolian spoke up. "Hey, I never noticed a compartment there before! How did you..." "Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat but I've got a date to keep in the park. Remember, hold it for Sarah Sisko. Bye." "Wait! What about my publicity shots?" the Bolian called out. But she was already gone. The Vulcan wind chimes on the door jingled madly. Earth, New Orleans, 2333, the Birthday, the Third Time Line "Smile, Benjamin, come on, smile for mommy!" Red balloons floated lazily towards the ceiling, Wide eyed, mouth agape, the baby stretched to catch one. Holding his son, Joseph laughed as Sarah took their picture. "That's my boy!" Sarah smiled. She caught one of the balloons and handed it to her son. He gurgled contentedly. Joseph chuckled, watching his son clutching the balloon string in his left fist as he tried to grab another with his right. "Maybe you're right honey. Maybe he's destined for the stars after all. He looks like he's trying to fly away." She reached out and Joseph passed the baby to her. "Well, why don't you fly away and cook us some dinner? Somehow, cake and ice cream just aren't as satisfying as your cooking." He beamed a big smile back at her. "Right away. What'll it be?" "Whatever you like. Catfish, black beans and rice would be nice." "Coming right up!" Joseph bounded out of the bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. "And don't forget the salad!" she called. Sarah kissed her son. "I'm sorry Benjamin, but mommy has to go away soon." A quizzical expression flashed across the baby's face. "I can't stay in your mommy's body much longer. I don't want to hurt her. And besides there's something I have to do." Taking off her locket, she left it on the night stand and activated the wall communicator. "Off world travel reservations, please. Yes. I'd like to reserve a small warp drive vehicle for two days from now." Tyree, 2333, the Orb of the Emissary, the Third Time Line A hot wind caressed Sarah's face as she placed the Orb ark on the sand. There was no need to bury it. The desert and the wind would do that job in far less time than the forty two years it would lie here awaiting the Emissary. Only one thing to do now. Kneeling, she pulled open the doors. Her body was flooded in a white radiance that even outshone Tyree's twin stars. The Prophet allowed herself to slide along that energy and into the Orb. As the Prophet's consciousness fled Sarah's body it left a final message in her mind. Farewell. Sarah's hands seemed to slam the doors of the Orb shut of their own accord. She gasped as if awakened from a dream. Surely that's what it had all been. A dream? No, a nightmare. Her body, her mind itself taken over by...by...that thing! No, it was real! Her consciousness held prisoner for two years! She remembered everything. Her words and actions. Meeting that man, making love to him, marrying him, giving birth to a child. And all the while as if she were in a dream, watching it remotely from far away. The words her words, but not. The emotions her emotions, but not. A puppet on a string. She staggered to her feet. She had to get away from this place. Resume her life somehow. Run away. Try to sort out what had happened to her. But the question that echoed in her mind until her dying day never received a reply. Why me? Why did you do this to me? THE END Author's Note: The Wormhole Aliens as twelfth dimensional is derived from the "Star Trek Deep Space Nine Technical Manual" page ten where the wormhole's "deep structure" is described as "a twelve-dimensional helical verteron membrane". Stands to reason that if you've got a twelfth dimensional home for wormhole aliens they're probably 12th dimensional too. NewMessage: