***
Forever
a DS9/Gargoyles crossover story
by Melissa "Merlin Missy" Wilson
mrwilson@umr.edu
missy@darklair.com
Copyright 1996
***
Author's Notes Concerning the Update
***

Sometimes, when I write a story, I'll reread it a few weeks later,
and despite the inevitable spelling errors, think "Yes, this one is
a keeper."  Other times, I'll read it, and in my best Christine
Lavin voice, say despondently, "What was I thinking?"  This story,
regretfully, fell into the latter category.  I'd given myself a
deadline, February 14th, and a version of the story was completed
at that time.  However, I hadn't spent the amount of time on it
that I should have, and the result was disappointing.  Therefore,
it was pulled from two of the three archives where it had been
stored, and brought back into the shop for a major overhaul.  An
entire chapter was deleted and rewritten from scratch, while large
sections of the rest were altered, edited, updated, and otherwise
changed to fit my own peculiar tastes.  This result of this effort
is far closer to what was originally intended (regretfully, there
was still no way to work in a scene where all the male characters
removed their shirts).  I present for your approval, disapproval,
or simple reading pleasure, my latest attempt to mix all possible
universes into one.  Those of you who have read my other stories
know that this happens with some frequency; in fact this particular
story draws heavily from "Graduation," a TNG story in the Trek
archives (wherever they may be this week).  Beware of dangling
references.

Time frames:  In the Trek universe, this roughly corresponds to the
4th season of DS9, shortly after "Paradise Lost."  In the Gargoyles
universe, it takes place directly between "Monsters" and "Golem." 
Also, it was (mostly) written before the spoiler list was posted.

Dedication: to BIG Sis, S-a-n, Bug, Morag and Christine. 
*grapefruit*  Also, to everyone who shows up here in one form or
another (those of you at SMGH *told* me I could put you in one or
more of my stories).  Finally, this one has to be for LJC, who
asked for a DS9 fanfic, not realizing the consequences.  *quick
wave howdy to the kids in the sandbox and my pondmates*

Acknowledgements: ohboy.  Thanks go out to Jill Morris, for
allowing me to borrow a bit from "Turnabout," and to MaryK, for not
minding that one scene in this is close to one in "Face Value."  In
addition, I would like to take this opportunity to thank Nicole
Mason for everything (especially the plot!), and last but never
least, a certain brave young knight whose Spring Break allowed me
to finish this behemoth.

All characters, locations, magical talismans and so on belong to
Paramount, Buena Vista/Disney, or another equally all-powerful
corporation.  This particular idea, such as it is, is mine.  Feel
free to pass it along, but don't take it as your own.  Oberon and
Titania wouldn't appreciate it.

*wipes brow*  Those things get longer and longer every time.

***
Chapter 1: Storm Rising
***

     The boat moved like a silent spectre through the mist-covered
waters.
     Elisa looked over the edge into the ... sea?  Ocean? 
Universe?  She had no words for the place they were in now, the
half-world between Avalon and what she had previously considered
reality.  They had just left Scotland again, in their third trip
back to the fairy-land since they'd started this voyage home
several days before.
     She wondered if the goon they'd left on the banks of Loch Ness
would report back to Xanatos that he'd seen them, or if the man
would get smart and slip quietly into a normal life somewhere far
away from all this madness.  Probably not, she thought.  She'd seen
this guy before.  He was in the game for keeps.  Maybe Xanatos
would do them the favor of telling Brooklyn and the others that
they were alive and well and doing their damnedest to get back to
Manhattan.  Then again ...
     She sighed, not for the first time.  Angela looked over from
her own contemplation of the still waters.
     "Are you thinking about your home?"  She nodded.  The young
gargoyle's eyes grew wide and bright.  "I can't wait until we get
there.  You've described so much; I want to see everything!"
     "You will.  I'll make certain of it."  And I'm willing to bet
you'll have three very eager tour guides to help.  She could
already foresee the problems on the way in *that* area.  Brooklyn,
Lexington and Broadway were young, healthy males.  The only time
they had seen females of their kind in the past millennium had been
that extraordinarily weird, and far-too short, time when the human
population of New York had been turned to gargoyles.  Otherwise,
they had Maggie, who was off-limits, and Demona, who was psychotic. 
Angela was neither.
     Goliath stopped the boat.  "I believe we've come far enough
into the mists to head out again."
     "I hope so."  Elisa looked out into the water again.  It felt
like years since she'd been home.  Maybe it had.  Time passed
differently in Avalon, one hour for every day in her own world. 
They had spent the better part of a night there, and had come back
into its pull twice since.  Add that to the days they'd spent,
first in Scotland, then in Canada, then back in Scotland again, and
they could have been gone for over a month already.  Their friends
might even believe them dead.
     Despair washed through her, jarring her to the reality of
their situation.  They could spend years like this, returning to
New York to find Beth and Derek with grandchildren.
     "Goliath?"  Angela's light voice cut through the foggy air.
     "Yes, Angela?"  His smooth muscles turned the boat's nose back
towards the direction from which they'd come.
     "If the Phoenix Gate can be used to travel through both space
and time, why don't we use it to go to Manhattan?  It would be much
easier than rowing back again."  Elisa had wondered the same thing
herself, but had supposed that Goliath had his own reasons for not
using it.
     "The Gate is very powerful magic.  If it falls into the wrong
hands, it could cause unbelievable devastation to the timestream."
     "But it won't, because it didn't."  She explained, "When my
rookery brothers and sisters and I were younger, the Magus used to
play games of logic with us.  He had us determine what the effect
of a talisman that could aid in time-travel would be on history. 
It took a long time and a lot of arguments, but we finally decided
that the talisman would have no effect at all, since whatever
happened would have already occurred anyway."  She beamed proudly.
     "That's not the point.  The Gate is too dangerous to be used
carelessly."
     "We wouldn't use it carelessly.  We'd use it to get to New
York, then never use it again."
     "But once we've used it once, it will be that much easier to
justify using it again, when the situation may not seem as clear as
it does now."
     Elisa paid close attention to their discussion, but stayed
quiet.  She could see Goliath's point: the Phoenix Gate had brought
nothing but grief to them so far, and considering the seductive
power of magic in general, it could put them in much greater danger
by merely being there, awaiting the spell.  However, and this was
a *big* however, she could also see how the Gate would be so easy
to use just this once to get them home.  And she did so desperately
want to go home.
     She looked out upon the water again.  Rather than getting
lighter to signify the approaching morning, the night sky appeared
to be darkening.  "Goliath, I think we should be heading back out
soon.  There's going to be a storm."
     Sure enough, the wind picked up briskly, turning their fragile
boat in a complete circle as Goliath pushed it along with the pole
they used for guiding.  In less than a minute, the sky opened above
them, pouring a torrent of rain.  Bronx began howling, and Angela's
comforting words only served to agitate him further.
     Then the lightning began, vast sheets of it.  Elisa counted
the time between the flashes and the low rumble of thunder, as the
cold rain ran into her jacket, chilling her deeply; the center of
the storm was getting closer fast.  The problem with lightning was
that it went after the highest point available.  Even if the four
of them huddled in the bottom of the boat, the mast, such as it
was, would draw the electric charge.  She began shivering, hoping
Goliath could row them away from the storm.
     A bolt streaked by them, searing the mists like a nightmare to
strike less than a mile away.  The waves had grown stronger by this
point, and the combined crash of bolt and water threw Goliath down
to land heavily on the three of them, his steering pole lost from
his grip into the waiting sea.  He spread his wings and held them
awkwardly over the others.  Angela followed suit, and they had a
semi-dry spot.
     Bronx whimpered, which scared Elisa more than anything.  If he
was *this* distraught ...
     "Are you *sure* you don't want to use the Phoenix Gate?" she
asked.  There was another strike, this one only about ten yards
away.  The resulting thunder was deafening.  "If you don't use it,
we're going to be flambe!"
     Goliath fumbled at his waist-sack, where he had the Gate
securely stowed with the Eye of Odin.  He pulled it free and held
it out.  Then he looked at her.  "If this works, we'll be in
Manhattan before sunrise."
     She managed a shaky smile.  "I'll buy you breakfast at
Tiffany's."
     He wrapped his fingers around it, and shouted something, but
the wind stole his words away.
     There was a great brightness ...

***

     Worf muttered under his breath as he read his panel for what
had to be the eighth time.
     "Access denied," it blinked in its annoyingly cheerful sea-
green standard type.  He entered the code again.  The blinking
paused for a few nanoseconds, then resumed again.  Briefly he
entertained thoughts of replicating a bat'telh and demonstrating a
few basic techniques on the monitor.  He still wouldn't have
access, but he would feel much better.
     "Problem, Commander?"  Chief O'Brien approached him in a
similarly annoyingly cheerful manner, and Worf fought hard to keep
from fantasizing about the bat'telh again.
     Instead, he said, "This *machine* will not allow me to access
the ships' manifests for today's arrivals."
     The Chief bent over the terminal, deft fingers already flying
over the input panel as he asked, "Did you give it your personal
override code?"
     "Yes."
     O'Brien must have heard the venom in his voice, for he glanced
up nervously.  "Just making sure."  He tapped in another command,
with no success.  He leaned over to where he'd set his tools.  As
Worf watched, he selected a medium-sized spanner.  He looked at the
spanner, at the terminal, then drew his arm back.
     The spanner made a sharp *CRACK* as it impacted with the
terminal.
     The blinking paused.  The screen went completely dark.  Then
the manifests began scrolling down the screen.
     Worf looked at the Chief, unsure whether to thank him or order
him to take a long vacation.
     "That should fix it," said the other man.  "If it gives you
any more problems, just yell."
     "If the computer actually worked, you would not need to hit
it."
     O'Brien smiled.  "Now where's the fun in that?"
     As he left to resume work on another of the terminally-ill
systems in Ops, Worf returned to the manifests, but he was no
longer reading them.  The malfunctioning terminal was just another
symptom of the disease that was this station.  The almost grotesque
lack of security for the upcoming conference was another; for the
number of ambassadors on the station, not to mention those yet to
arrive in the coming days, there should be at least twice the
guards that were already assigned.  His people had one basic cure-
all for such problems as this station, and it usually included a
sharp knife.  He'd considered a transfer, considered resignation,
a dozen options to get him out of this place.  Yet, his thoughts
always returned to one question: what else would he, *could* he do?
     As he gathered the data he needed, he thought about his
friends from the late, lamented _Enterprise-D_.  They had all moved
on with their lives, in little ways and big steps.  Promotions, new
careers, families.
     Dr. Crusher (he would never be able to think of her as Dr.
Picard, no matter how he tried) would be arriving in thirty hours,
ostensibly for an inspection of the Infirmary for Starfleet
Medical.  He was one of perhaps five people who knew the real
reason for her visit here now, when by all rights she should have
been relieved from active duty a month before.
     He hoped her presence wouldn't be as necessary as the other
four seemed to think, and knew that they hoped the same.  Instead
of dwelling on that, he would focus on the present, perhaps even
enjoy her company while he could.  Although he got along well
enough with Chief O'Brien, and although he would be loathe to admit
it at all, he missed his friends.
     No, it was more than that.  He missed Deanna.
     He had reserved a special dinner for when the doctor arrived. 
Perhaps when she'd eaten well and had relaxed enough, she would
tell him how the *other* woman in their circle was, what she'd been
thinking about, if she ever mentioned him.
     He forced his attention back to the screen.  It was no use
thinking about her.  Some things that seemed like they would last
forever could simply never be.

***

     Ambassador Nejla finished off her drink with a quick flip of
her wrist that she'd perfected years before.  It was a simple
gesture that put people around her at ease, and people at ease were
more likely to underestimate her abilities as a mediator.  She
credited nearly half her successes to barroom politicking before
the negotiating even began, and the beginning of this brand of
diplomacy was knowing how to make people comfortable.
     She waved her hand to motion over the Ferengi waiter, then
gestured towards her empty glass.  He retrieved it, and moments
later, returned with a full one.  She offered him a carefully
calculated smile, which he returned before he realized who she was
and quickly backed off again.
     Her drink refreshed, she could focus her full attention upon
her current target, who sat across from her in blissful ignorance.
     She allowed herself another smile.  Metzger wasn't a fool;
she'd dealt with him enough times to know that, unlike so many of
their contemporaries, he'd actually earned his position.  She also
knew him well enough to know that he would spend the next several
hours in her company pretending that he wasn't trying to get her to
notice him.  Meanwhile, he would be completely unaware of how her
subtle influence would make him give up more ground than he dreamed
possible when they finally made it to the bargaining table.
     There are times I love this job, she thought.
     "Have you met Giroux yet?" he asked.  She thought about it,
quickly flashing through every person she'd encountered in the past
twenty years, then shook her head.  "Watch out for her.  She's one
of the environmental sect, and you *know* what they're like."  He
chuckled.
     She'd heard of the woman before, even agreed with a number of
her points.  It simply had very little to do with her own agenda,
as far as she was concerned.  She realized that her side of the
conversation was flagging.  She turned to Raimondi, who had been
standing in silence behind her and motioned her to take a step
forward.
     "The Ambassador is not so much concerned with the
environmentalists as she is with the Klingons.  She has found them
to be determined adversaries when debating territorial rights." 
Raimondi stepped back into place again.
     Metzger sighed.  "I know precisely what you mean.  I was an
aide when we signed the peace treaty with them, but I can still
remember how tough the deals were to strike.  It took Sarek himself
months to hammer out an accord."  He took a drink as he said the
name, something almost a tradition among them since the man's
death.  Then he leaned back and made eye contact with his own aide. 
"Just think, Alaric.  In thirty years, you could be an old man,
sitting at this same table across from a lovely woman and trying to
make yet another peace treaty with the Klingons."
     "I sincerely hope not, sir."  Metzger laughed as the younger
man retreated back into his own personal invisibility.  She watched
him with some respect.  She knew from years of observation that
beneath his quiet, subservient exterior, Alaric McFadden had a mind
sharper than his master's.  She wasn't certain that Metzger knew
it, however, and thus kept her thoughts, as always, to herself. 
For the time being.
     Nejla sipped her drink and began planning her quiet assault on
Metzger's reserve.  First, she would suggest a walk along the
Promenade without their aides present, to give him the illusions of
both privacy and superiority.  Then they would pause to look out
upon the famed wormhole, and while he watched, she would begin
feeding him thoughts about growing old and losing his edge.  After
that, he would probably offer to walk her back to her quarters,
which she would accept, for it would give her a chance to send him
images of perhaps recapturing his youth in her arms.  When they
reached her door, she would not invite him in, and he would be left
for the rest of the evening considering what could have been.
     By morning, he would be willing to walk out an airlock if she
asked.
     She flicked her wrist to get the last sweet sip of her drink.
     There was a blinding flash from the Promenade, and her head
snapped to see a ball of fire in the center of a semi-open space. 
Terrorists! she thought instinctively, and dropped to a crouch on
the floor, her ceremonial blade already in her hand.  Raimondi was
at her back with her own knife ready, while McFadden positioned
himself directly between Metzger and the flash.
     She heard screams and shouts, but she had to see what had
happened.  Maybe a changeling had gotten on board the station to
sabotage the talks.  Maybe one of the more militant sects of
Bajorans had grown sick of the space station defiling the Temple of
the Prophets.  Maybe someone's science fair project had blown up. 
She had to find out.
     She touched Raimondi's shoulder, and they peered out into the
Promenade.  There was no fire, no smoke, no destruction.  Instead,
a young human woman stood between two large, lavender coloured
beings with wings and sharp-looking talons, all three of them
looking very disoriented.  At her feet stood an animal (she
presumed), green-grey and big.  In the time it took to draw in her
breath, they were surrounded by station security.
     Then her attention was drawn to the men beside her, as she saw
that McFadden's already pale face had gone dead white, and that he
had knocked over the drinks on the table without seeming to notice. 
He stared at the newcomers, and mouthed something weakly.
     Nejla had known McFadden for ten years, as long as she'd known
Metzger.  She'd seen him in hand-to-hand combat with a Gorn who'd
threatened his master's life, and he'd won without losing his
composure, or even messing up his hair.  Now his eyes resembled
saucers, and he seemed ready to either pass out or cry.
     Interesting, she thought, and moved closer so that she could
hear the proceedings better.

***

     There was a great brightness, and Elisa thought, 'We're dead. 
We were too late and we got hit.'  But if she was dead, the
afterlife was a lot weirder than she'd heard.
     Goliath was the first to speak.  "This is not Manhattan."
     She looked at the people surrounding them, weapons of some
sort drawn.  Most of them had odd ridges on their noses.  "What was
your first clue?"
     One of the people came forward.  He was a little taller than
she was, and his face looked ... incomplete.  He didn't have any of
the nose ridges, but that was probably because he only nominally
had a nose.
     "Okay," he said, "Nice and slow.  Hand over your weapon."  He
held out his hand.
     "We don't *have* any weapons," said Angela.
     He pointed to the Phoenix Gate, which Goliath was still
holding.  "That."
     Goliath held it against his chest protectively.  "This is not
a weapon.  It is a magical talisman, and I'm not letting it out of
my sight."
     "Magic."  The man snorted.  Elisa had the feeling he didn't
believe them.  His manner, terse but effective, spoke volumes to
her.  Alien or not, this guy was a cop.  She relaxed minutely; this
would be someone she could relate to.  His eyes took the four of
them in with barely a glance, detecting, analyzing, and finally
telling him ... what?  He asked in a less stern voice: "Are you
from the Gamma Quadrant?"
     Elisa considered telling him yes for half a second.  "No,
we're from New York.  If you could point the way towards Times
Square, we'd really appreciate it."
     "You're from Earth?"  That didn't come from the cop.  Elisa
turned her head to see a young human man about three yards away. 
She nodded.
     His words sunk in.  "What do you mean 'from Earth?'  Where are
we?"
     The first man spoke: "You're on the Federation space station
Deep Space Nine."
     "Space station?"  This would explain the guys with the nose
ridges.
     Angela's eyes lit up.  "Avalon did it again!  We tried to use
the Phoenix Gate while we were in the mists, and it must have sent
us here instead of Manhattan."
     "Not again," muttered Goliath.
     Two women moved through the armed guards as if the others were
a beaded curtain.  Both were undeniably feline in appearance, with
delicately pointed faces and graceful motion, underlined by an
indefinable sense of power.  The taller one had a braided mane of
muted fire with a single pale stripe along one side; she bore a
very faint resemblance to Maggie that Elisa couldn't shake from her
mind.  Her companion was shorter and darker, her raven-coloured
hair unbound, her catlike eyes wide and green.
     The smaller woman spread her arms, her palms upward.  Then the
taller one said, "Constable, can't you see that these people are
merely lost travellers?  We must welcome them to the station, not
greet them with weapons and suspicion."  The short woman tilted her
head towards Elisa and smiled.  "The Kaitian people welcome you,
strangers."
     The alien man edged over to the darker woman, keeping his eyes
trained on them and his body poised to strike at the least
threatening move.  Definitely a cop.  "Ambassador, for your own
safety, I must ask you to get to safety.  There is no telling what
they might do."
     "Thank you for your concern," said the fair-headed one, "but
there is no danger here."  Again the smaller woman smiled at Elisa
as her companion spoke.  "What is your name?"
     "Elisa Maza."  She added, "These are Goliath, Angela and
Bronx."  Bronx moved his head at the mention of his name, and
Angela scratched his webbed ears to calm him.
     Two more people walked through the security force, an older
human and a young woman with the same nose ridges as the others. 
The male spoke.
     "Captain Benjamin Sisko, commander of this station."  Goliath
nodded to him.  "My First Officer, Major Kira Nerys."  Again the
nod, this time a distinct fraction lower.  "I see you've already
met Ambassador Nejla."  Elisa couldn't tell if this were a good
thing or not, as the captain shot a quick glance towards the
smaller woman, who seemed oblivious to the implied censure.
     "Not exactly," she admitted.  "Captain, we're *very* lost.  Is
there any way you could tell us how to get to Manhattan?"
     By this time, a large crowd had gathered around the perimeter
of the security force.  Sisko glanced around, then said, "Perhaps
we would be more comfortable talking in my office.  We can discuss
exactly how you arrived here."
     "Sir," said the younger human man, "they haven't been through
decontamination."
     Captain Sisko frowned, then addressed Goliath: "Dr. Bashir is
concerned about possible contagions being set loose on the station. 
Would you mind a brief examination?"
     Angela looked petrified.  "Is it necessary?"  Elisa placed a
comforting hand on her arm.  The young gargoyle hadn't said what
Dr. Sevarius had done to her while she'd been in his clutches, but
Elisa knew what that man was capable of, and hadn't pressed the
question.
     Dr. Bashir moved closer to them, holding out his empty hands
as the woman had.  "I promise that you will not be harmed.  I just
need to make certain that you won't harm *us* by accident."
     His voice was sincere, and after a few unsure moments, Angela
whispered, "All right."
     At a nod from the constable, the security personnel lowered
their weapons.  The doctor led them to what Elisa presumed was the
local equivalent of a hospital.  Captain Sisko and the constable
followed.
     Once inside, Bashir took a painless blood sample from each of
them, and breathed an obvious, if puzzling, sigh of relief when he
examined each one.  After that, he made her recline on what
appeared to be an easy chair while he ran a hand-held machine over
her.  He pronounced her healthy, then did the same for Goliath and
Angela.  Bronx he scanned on the floor.  The entire process
couldn't have taken five minutes.
     "You're all in fine health," he announced as he closed his
device.  He turned to Captain Sisko.  "They're yours."
     Goliath watched him as he put the machine away.  "Lexington
would give his wings to have a look at that."  The mention of the
other gargoyle's name reminded Elisa of how long it had been since
she'd last seen him, any of them, and her face fell.  She looked at
Angela, who was observing the various panels and pieces of
equipment with undisguised awe, and wondered again what would
become of her if they did get back to the city.  Then she realized
she was now thinking of terms of "if" rather than "when."
     Bashir noticed Angela's scrutiny as well, and flipped on a
display.  An outline of a distinctly gargoyle shape appeared, along
with a skeleton and organs.
     "What glorious magic!"  She was entranced.
     "It's not magic.  It's *almost* top of the line science."  He
looked to Captain Sisko.  "Once Dr. Picard has finished her
inspection, she will probably recommend an upgrade.  Figure another
six months for the paperwork, and we should have the some of the
best facilities available outside of Starfleet Headquarters."
     Angela was suitably impressed.  "How does it work?"
     The doctor smiled at her, making Elisa nervous for no good
reason.  "It's really quite simple.  I take a scan," he ran the
machine over her again, "then compare it to the database on your
species' physiology."  He touched something on a panel, and several
of the organs lit up in bright relief against the screen.  "See?"
     Something caught Elisa's attention.  "What do you mean
database?  You have others like them on record?"
     "Of course," he said, as if surprised by the question. 
"Although we haven't had any gargoyles on the station before, I
keep current medical records, just in case."
     "You know of my people?" asked Goliath.
     "Yes," he replied, as if speaking to a child asking "Is the
sky blue?"
     "You sound surprised," said Captain Sisko.
     "I thought our existence was a secret."
     "Your people keep to themselves a great deal, but as far as I
know, your planet has been in the Federation for fifty years."
     "Our planet?"  Goliath was confused, and Elisa didn't blame
him.  She looked at the Gate again, and suddenly had a chilling
thought.
     "Captain, I'm going to ask you a very strange question.  What
year is it?"
     He watched her carefully as he said, "2373."  Elisa felt all
her blood rushing to her toes.
     "Do tell," she said weakly, and sat back down on the recliner.

***

     Kira waited until the newcomers had seated themselves at the
single large table in the observation lounge before taking her own
seat beside Sisko.  It was an old habit, less a courtesy than a
former necessity.  One never knew what a standing adversary might
do.  Not that these strangers were necessarily a danger.  They were
probably just what they claimed to be, lost wanderers.  Still, it
gave her a measure of relief to see Odo waiting patiently in the
corner, observing everything in the room.  He wouldn't move, nor
even say a word.  He was simply there just in case.
     "Before we begin," said the Captain, "would you like anything
to eat or drink?"
     "No, thank you," Goliath said before the others could answer. 
Maza shot him a look, but said nothing.  "We should attempt to
return to Avalon to try again."
     "You're assuming we can find it again," Maza replied.  "Our
luck hasn't exactly been great in the navigation department."
     "Which leads us to the question of how you arrived here in the
first place," interjected Sisko.
     "You wouldn't believe us if we told you," said Maza.
     "Try me."
     Goliath sighed and reached towards his waist.  Odo shifted
slightly in the corner, as Kira tensed her muscles by a degree.  He
pulled out the same device he had held on their arrival: a small
blue and yellow crest, with a bird-like animal rampant.  "This is
the Phoenix Gate," he said, as if that explained everything.
     Kira glanced at Sisko to see if the words meant anything to
him, but he appeared as mystified as she felt.
     Sisko said neutrally, "I see."
     "It is a magical talisman used for transport across space and
time."
     Magic.  All right.  She could deal with this.  She knew that
some of her colleagues looked askance at her when she talked about
her own beliefs, much in the same way the captain was trying
desperately to *not* look at Goliath now.  So it was out of the
ordinary.  Wasn't their Federation all about new life and new
civilizations?  Sometimes it seemed that the only thing Starfleet
personnel were incapable of accepting was their own idea of the
Deity, in the form of gods or prophets, or even magic charms.
     Maza must have seen Sisko's carefully hidden skepticism.  "I
know how it sounds," she said, glancing at her companion with a
look that would have said 'Be Still!' to any sentient species in
the quadrant.  "The first time I met these guys, I thought there
had to be some kind of rational explanation, too.  But there isn't. 
It's magic, the kind you don't want to be on the wrong end of."
     "We shouldn't have used it," said Goliath, more to Maza than
to the others.
     "It's not like we had a lot of options left," she shot back.
     "We can continue trying to return home over the water.  Avalon
will send us there as soon as we're needed."
     "By whose criteria?  We could be drifting for years before it
decides we need to go home."  The human and the gargoyle glared at
each other across the table, neither willing to back down first.
     Captain Sisko cleared his throat.  "Maybe we should start from
the beginning.  Who is this Avalon?"
     "Avalon is not a person," said Goliath.  "It's the island
where Oberon and his children once dwelled long ago."
     "What does it have to do with your arrival here?"
     Maza and Goliath shared a look, then reached some silent
agreement.  Goliath began to speak.  At first, he seemed to be
telling some fairy tale about a castle, a princess, a magician, and
a little boy.  Then, the story grew darker, as he described in
halting tones how he had discovered the stone corpses of his
friends, how there had only been six of them to take revenge on the
Vikings, and how a foolish man had turned the others to stone in
mistaken grief.
     Kira found herself drawn into his words, and felt his sorrow
as he gave custody of the eggs, all his clan's unborn children,
into the care of two humans he trusted only out of necessity.  His
subsequent rebirth from a stone darkness gave her a tingling joy
that grew at the revelation that little Tom was alive, well, and
still guarding the eggs, who were all grown up now.
     " ... but as we pulled away from the shore, Tom yelled to us
that Avalon didn't send people where they wanted to go, but where
they needed to be.  The next thing we knew, we were back in Ussex,
where the castle had once stood.  Then it sent us to Northwest
America, and after that, to Loch Ness."
     "That's why we used the Phoenix Gate," said Maza.  "We need to
get back to New York, and Avalon wasn't sending us there."
     The Captain sat back in his chair.  "So you believe that this
island has somehow warped the magic in order to send you here?"
     "That's the only explanation we can come up with," Goliath
answered.
     Sisko swiveled his chair to face the window, his patented "Why
Me?" expression clearly etched on his features.  After a moment, he
said, "Right now, things are highly unstable in this sector.  The
Klingons have taken control of several key Cardassian settlements,
and they're not going to surrender them.  I have more delegates
than I've seen in three years all gathering on my station in an
attempt to negotiate terms."  He directed his gaze to Goliath. 
"This is not a good time to be catering to the whims of a
temperamental island."
     Kira had known Sisko long enough to hear the exasperation in
his voice, and she could sympathize completely.  The nature of the
conference wasn't so different from any of a hundred others;
someone had something that everybody else wanted.  However, it was
also the first real negotiation between the Klingons and the
Cardassians since the invasion, and everyone wanted in on the
action.  They were scheduled to have over two dozen official
representatives, and twice that number who were there in an
observing capacity only.  Most of them had arrived early in order
to stake out the territory; the deliberations themselves wouldn't
begin for almost a week.  Meanwhile, the ambassadors were spending
their time mingling, learning one another's strategies, and
shifting their own accordingly, leaving poor Odo to make sure every
contingency was covered to keep them all safe.
     She suddenly remembered why she hated politics.
     The captain continued, "That device of yours is too dangerous
to have here and now.  I'd be worried having it around with things
as they are."
     "I agree.  We'll use the Gate to return to our boat and try
once more to sail home."  He ignored Maza's concerned expression as
he stood.  "It has been a pleasure meeting you, but we should be
going now."
     "We'll see you off."  The Captain got to his feet, and the
rest joined him except for Angela.
     The female gargoyle's attention was fixed on the window, her
wide eyes trying to take in all the stars at once.  Kira tried to
recall her own first view of space, but it had been on this very
station, and the memory tasted of bitterness and guilt.  She turned
her head a fraction, and Odo was no longer within her peripheral
vision.
     "Angela," said Maza, her voice gentle as she touched her
shoulder.
     The other woman kept her face towards the stars, only
reluctantly getting up and turning from them to those in the room.
     "I'm sorry," she said.  "Just thinking."
     "It's allowed," assured Maza with a turn of her mouth.
     "I wish we could stay longer.  This seems like such a
wonderful place, and we're leaving before we even have the chance
to look around properly."
     "We've seen too much already," said Goliath.  "The future is
not the place we belong."
     Kira thought of a time in the near past when Chief O'Brien had
been travelling through time to the future, and had seen his own
death in time to avoid it.  He'd even explained the process to them
afterwards, managing only to give everyone a headache.  Temporal
mechanics wasn't for the weak-hearted.
     "Let's see if we can get you home."

***

     Quark turned off his monitor and sat back in his chair to
think.  So this Phoenix Gate had the power to transport anyone
anywhere anytime.  Someone could go back before a boom and buy
cheap to sell high, knowing that his investment would pay off in
spades.  Someone else could use the thing to show up on the
homeworld of one's enemy when that enemy was a baby.
     If the ambassadors at this particular meeting were to catch
wind of the power at their fingertips, they would attack each other
with rusty spoons for the chance to use it.
     He tried to imagine how much someone would pay for that kind
of technology.
     Then he loosened the neck of his shirt with one hand as the
other absently moved to his ear.
     He smiled, and began going through a list in his mind of small
planetoids he intended to purchase in the following weeks.

***

     Goliath noticed that they had drawn another crowd, though not
quite so large as the one before.  It seemed that unusual things
were accepted as part and parcel of life aboard the station.  As
they walked back to the place where they had arrived, someone
resembling a giant earthworm in a space suit went by chatting
amicably with a short dog-like being.  Neither spared him a glance. 
That said more to him than a ten hour-long oratory could have on
the nature of life in this place.  Here his clan could live without
being feared or hated because they were different.  The doctor had
even said that there was an entire planet of gargoyles somewhere. 
Given more time, he would have enjoyed meeting them.
     Nevertheless, they needed to get back to New York.  Elisa was
missing her home dreadfully, and he would be a liar if he claimed
not to want to see the others again.  He glanced at her, as she
watched the scenery with that same slight skepticism she viewed
everything.  She refused to take anything as it seemed, which made
her a good detective.  And a good friend.
     He had to get them back to Manhattan for the sake of that
friendship.  He knew well what happened when people were forced by
circumstance to spend a great deal of time in close company.  The
expression "Familiarity breeds contempt" might have been coined for
the trio back at the clocktower, and he worried that being in such
close quarters might damage their own hard-won relationship by
simply making them tired of being together.
     Elisa noticed him watching her and smiled up at him, warming
his heart.  Then again, perhaps being on this trip would give them
a taste of what it might be like to be together forever in a
different way.  He reluctantly pushed that thought aside.  He had
to worry about getting home first.  Then they could think about ...
other things.
     He reached into his waist-sack.  He felt the comforting weight
of the Eye of Odin, but not the Gate.  He frowned.  He *had*
returned it to the pouch.  He checked again, then looked to see if
it had fallen to the floor.
     "What's wrong?" asked Angela, concern on her face.
     It wasn't there.  Now he recalled brushing by people on their
way back to where they had arrived.  It was entirely possible that
it had been taken from him without his even being aware.  If so,
there would be dire consequences for them, most pointedly in the
fact that, without the Phoenix Gate, they couldn't even get back to
their own time, much less back to New York.
     He looked at Elisa.  "I think we have a problem."

***
Chapter 2: Old Friends
***

     The leader of the group checked in his waist-sack again.  "It
*was* here.  Someone must have taken it from me."
     Sisko went cold.  From Goliath's description of the thing, the
Phoenix Gate was a transporter not only through space, but also
time, making it one of the most powerful weapons ever.  And
somehow, between the observation lounge and the Promenade, they'd
lost it.  He contemplated the idea of the Dominion getting their
hands on that kind of power, or the Romulans, or the Klingons.  Or
the Borg.
     "Is it possible you dropped it?"
     Goliath looked at him as though he were daft.  "No."
     He thought fast.  If it wasn't lost, it was stolen, and that
had the potential to be a far worse problem, especially if the
thief learned how to use it.
     "Odo, I want the Promenade sealed off immediately.  Check
everyone present.  We have to find that Gate now."
     "Gladly."  Odo turned towards his subordinates, when Sisko
remembered one tiny flaw in that particular plan as he noticed the
people who made up the crowd surrounding them.
     "On second thought, belay that order."
     "Sir?"  Odo looked confused.  Sisko couldn't blame him.
     Sisko sighed.  "The majority of the people here are
ambassadors from all over the quadrant, some of whom would go to
war at the drop of a hat.  We can't accuse them of stealing."
     "Then how do you suggest we find this Phoenix Gate?"
     "I'm not sure.  Start with your usual sources, and don't spare
the personnel.  Be as thorough as you can without causing an
interstellar incident.  Meanwhile, I'll have Dax stop anyone from
leaving the station.  By ship, anyway."
     Suddenly, there was a bright flash.  Sisko shielded his eyes
against it, and he thought, this is it.  Somebody has the blasted
thing already and has decided to attack the station and we are
about to die.
     He blinked the spots out of his eyes and saw ...
     Q?
     Q, omnipotent trickster and perennial pain in the butt, stood
in the center of the Promenade, looking around approvingly.
     Sisko groaned.  Not him, too.  Not now.
     "Are you behind this, Q?"
     "And hello to you as well, Commander."  He glanced at his
collar.  "Or should I say Captain?  So did you get the promotion
before or after you shaved your head?"  He seemed about to say
something further when he noticed the four newcomers.  His eyes
widened.
     "Oh no!  Not you again!  Even Janeway can find her way home
faster than you people."  He glanced upward and cocked his head as
if listening to some unseen voice.  Then he said hurriedly, "On
second thought, I simply *must* go look up Jean-Luc.  I have a
wedding present for him."  He glanced at the four strangers.  "Let
me offer you some advice, *Captain*: I don't know how they got
here, but if they brought a boat with them, burn it!"
     He snapped his fingers and disappeared in another flash of
light.
     Sisko watched the spot until he was certain Q was gone.  Then
he said to the four newcomers who had caused this particular mess,
"Back to the observation lounge.  Now."

***

     Angela found herself in the same seat she'd so recently and
reluctantly vacated minutes before.  She tried to get another good
look at the stars, but a warning glance from Goliath brought her
attention back into the discussion.
     "Q seemed to know you.  Have you encountered him before?"
     Elisa said, "That may be open to speculation.  I don't think
we've seen him in this form before, but Oberon's Children are
shapeshifters."  She looked to Goliath for confirmation and he
nodded gravely.
     "You think Q is a fairy?"  The same incredulity that had been
on his face before was back in full force.
     "It *would* explain a lot," offered Major Kira.  The Captain
did not look amused.
     "All right," he said.  "Let's assume for the moment that he's
*not* interfering in this.  Tell me about this Phoenix Gate.  In
detail.  I want to know how much trouble we're in."
     Angela shifted in her seat.  She recalled the power that the
Archmage had wielded when he'd worn the Gate on his chest.  Of
course, he'd also had the Eye of Odin and the Grimorum, but the
Gate was magic enough to make her afraid.
     "As far as I know," said Goliath, "the Gate can only be
activated by the proper spell."
     "Spell.  Of course."  The Captain no longer sounded skeptical. 
He merely sounded tired.  "I'll assume you know the spell.  Do
either of you?" he asked of Angela and Elisa.  Elisa shook her
head.
     Angela said, "The only magic permitted in Avalon was that of
Oberon himself, and he hasn't been there since we arrived."
     "I'll take that as a no.  So basically, you're saying that
it's powerless without the spell, that you're the only one who
knows that spell, and that you probably don't intend to tell it to
anyone soon.  Correct?"
     "Correct."
     "That gives us a little leeway before the end of civilization
as we know it," said Major Kira.
     Captain Sisko said, "We'll find your Gate and send you back
through it.  You have my word."
     A voice came out of nowhere: "Worf to Sisko."  Goliath bolted
upwards, while Bronx sniffed around his place on the floor to
figure out who owned the voice.
     Captain Sisko tapped his chest.  "Sisko here.  Go ahead."  
     "Captain, there are a number of ambassadors out here who would
like to speak with you immediately."  Whoever it was, he sounded as
though he'd be just as happy to shoot them as show them in.
     "Tell them to ...  No, scratch that.  Tell them I'll speak
with them soon, but right now, I have urgent business in here.  In
fact, you'd probably better join us."  He turned back to Goliath. 
"What else can you tell me about the Phoenix Gate?"
     Goliath wasn't paying attention.  With wonder in his voice, he
said, "Coldstone?"
     "Who is Coldstone?" asked Angela.
     "My rookery broth ... sis ... sibling.  That was his voice. 
But he cannot still be alive in this century."
     "That was Commander Worf," said Major Kira, as the door slid
open behind her.  She looked back.  "Speak of the devil."
     Goliath's face brightened, then fell as he saw the man.  He
wasn't a gargoyle, but Angela wasn't precisely sure what he *was*. 
He was taller than the average human, and his forehead had odd
ridges that went well back into his scalp.  His bearded mouth
seemed caught in a permanent scowl.  In fact, if he'd had wings,
she might even believe him to be a gargoyle anyway.
     Captain Sisko said, "This is Lieutenant Commander Worf, our
Starfleet Liaison.  Commander, please meet Angela, Elisa Maza,
Goliath, and," he pointed under the table, "Bronx.  Now that we're
all friends, let's see what we can do about not destroying the
galaxy."

***

     Ambassador Kriana watched Commander Worf go into the
observation lounge, and managed a quick glance inside before the
door closed and the two security guards moved in front of it.  She
observed the other representatives around her, the same people
she'd be negotiating with in a few days.  At the moment, they
looked like nothing so much as frightened birds hovering around the
bars of a cage they'd just escaped.  Resignedly, she walked with as
much composure as she could back towards her quarters, considering
what to do next.
     She'd been happily strolling the upper level of the Promenade
with Ekan and Moktan when the strangers had arrived out of thin
air.  Ekan had immediately disappeared into the crowd to see what
had happened, and she had followed him, albeit unwillingly, to see
what destiny had set upon their doorstep *this* time.  She hadn't
been frightened; simply concerned at the new twist in events.  As
many of the other representatives had done, she had instantly
ascertained the value of being able to beam anywhere with a
thought.  Priceless.  Her people would pay handsomely for such a
device, as would the homeworlds of any of the other peoples
present.
     However, very few of the others would be suspected of stealing
the thing simply because of their species.
     She sighed.  She had been spared the initial investigation,
but only by virtue of her status as ambassador.  Moktan, whom she
trusted with her life, had been subjected to the indignity, as had
Ekan, who was only a child, for the sake of Kolker!  It was because
they were Romulans, of course.  Constable Odo hadn't been nearly so
eager to search Ambassador Metzger's aide, nor had Ambassador
Ssassnd's child been the first to be interrogated.
     She *had* noticed that both assistants for Ambassador
T'Koeneke had been present and were quickly searched.  So the
Klingons were suspects as well.  Had she been any other Romulan,
this thought would have probably brought a smile to her otherwise
highly unamused expression.  Instead, it managed to infuriate her
even further.  She had many friends who were Klingon, something
that had surprisingly not been held against her when she'd run for,
and won, her seat in the Senate, and seeing someone being grilled
simply for being a Klingon made her blood boil.
     She'd gone to speak with Captain Sisko about the singling out
of specific races; she understood the need for the investigation,
but objected to the method, especially as unexpected as it had
been.  Then again, from what she'd heard, nobody had expected the
Spanish Inquisition, either, another great era in human history.
     She walked into her quarters lost in thought.  Ekan sat at the
computer terminal, and did not even register her presence as she
moved behind him to see what he was reading.
     "What have you found so fascinating?"
     He saw her, then clicked off the monitor.  "Oh, nothing.  Can
I go back to the Promenade now?"
     "I wouldn't think you'd like to go back so soon."  She brushed
his hair from his eyes.  He pulled away from her hand in an annoyed
fashion she was coming to know well.
     "There's nothing to do in here and nobody to talk to," he
complained.  "At least there are people on the Promenade."
     "What?  I don't count as people?"  She acted offended, until
he smiled.  "Why don't we stay here and talk?  It's been a while."
     "Maybe later.  Right now, I'd really like to go looking
around.  It's not likely that I'll get a chance to come back any
time soon.  Please?"
     He gave her That Look.  She gave in, as they both knew she
would.  "It's a good thing you're not in these talks.  I'd lose a
lot of ground to you, kid."
     "But I'd give it back when I was done with it."
     "I'm sure you would.  Have fun, but stay out of Constable
Odo's way.  I don't want to have to explain to the Senate that I
was booted out of the conference because my son was too nosy."
     "Thank you, Mother!"  He was out the door before she could say
another word.
     She sat down at the terminal, wondering what would become of
them.  Ekan was so much like his father.  His *real* father, she
reminded herself.  She'd named her son for one dead friend, and
attributed his paternity to another: a sweet, if slow, travelling
musician called Dalek.  Shortly thereafter, she'd married two
wonderful men, who had known those same friends and understood why
she wanted no trace of Ekan's true biological father on record.
     She didn't allow herself to think about *him* much.  That had
been the single worst time period in her life, made bearable only
by the fact that they'd somehow managed to make between them this
remarkably complex little being.  What worried her was how that
little being was so capricious, one minute sullen and gloomy, the
next one of the brightest young men she'd ever known, and the
moment after almost dangerously violent.  Part of it *had* to be
merely his adolescence working its unpredictable magic upon him; he
was only twenty-three, not even out of upper school.
     When she'd first been assigned to temporary ambassadorial
status for this conference, she'd considered bringing her daughter
T'Riest instead.  T'Riest was young, bright, eager to learn new
things and meet new people.  Tanith, whom she considered her own
daughter, would have also been delighted to take the trip, but she
was away at school.  Then she'd noticed how Ekan was behaving, and
knew that she needed to save him from himself before he turned into
his father.  Now she could see that bringing her beloved but
volatile child into what was practically the lair of dozens of
black adders was not her most brilliant strategy.
     The door opened again, revealing Moktan.  She sighed inwardly. 
She liked her assistant very much; he was not only her adviser, but
also one of her closest friends.  He had a way about him that
inspired her confidence, a cool levelheadedness she found lacking
in most of her personal staff.  Some mistook that calmness for
indifference, but she knew better.  When she had been handed this
assignment, she'd handpicked him to go with her.  Still, his
detached company helped remind her that her husbands had been
unable to attend, and that saddened her.
     "I've finished conferring with the Breen delegation.  Ssassnd
is prepared to side with us on the mining rights issue."
     "Splendid.  I have an idea.  How about you take over as
ambassador so I can return to Romulus?"  She put on her brightest
face at the thought.
     "You know very well that would not be permitted.  But I thank
you for the offer."
     "Why wouldn't it be permitted?  You have just as much
experience at this game as I do.  I still don't understand why I
have to be here when we had dozens of perfectly capable ambassadors
who were more than willing.  My views aren't exactly the most
favored, even by my constituents."
     "Perhaps the Praetor reasoned that you would bargain for what
you thought was best, not for what was popular."  She smiled.  He
was always good at inflating her ego.
     "That's not good policy for getting one reelected."
     "There are more important things than reelection."
     "Agreed.  One of those is recognizing good work.  You've done
well."  He inclined his head.  "Why don't you take the rest of the
day off?  Perhaps you can spend some time making new acquaintances
among the staff members of the other representatives.  Go have
fun."
     "Is that an order?"
     "Yes."  He nodded once, then turned around and walked out the
way he had come without cracking a smile.  Come to think of it,
Moktan never smiled.  He was more Vulcan at times than Romulan,
very aloof.  In fact, one of his personal rules was that he should
not be touched, and she respected that, even if she could not
comprehend why.
     They made an odd set, the three of them: Moktan the
emotionless, Ekan the too-passionate, and she, the unwilling
ambassador.  She wondered if any of the other delegates had this
much ... fun.  Her thoughts returned to her son.
     She turned the monitor on, suddenly curious as to what he'd
been reading.  It was some kind of Federation text, one with which
she wasn't familiar.  The title seemed to be a quote from an old
human poem, "Oh Captain, My Captain."  Interesting.  She hadn't
known that Ekan was into human poetry.  Intrigued, she began to
read.

***

     They had a security escort from the observation lounge to the
quarters they had been assigned.  Captain Sisko had told them that
he did not want them in a situation where they could be
compromised.  In other words, Elisa thought, he's scared Goliath is
going to go to this Promenade place and shout the spell that
activates the Phoenix Gate to everyone in the vicinity.
     Ah well.  The two security officers assigned them appeared to
be adequate, and she knew that they were perfectly capable of
handling themselves were the officers not as efficient as they
looked.  They were led away from public view and down several long,
winding corridors.  After a few turns, Elisa was completely lost,
and hoped that their chaperons knew where they were going.
     They must have walked at least half a mile when they turned
yet another corner and she saw him a few paces ahead.
     The same always perfectly-combed hair.  The same impeccable
clothing, although for the first time in her memory he wasn't
wearing a suit, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen.  He hadn't
even aged a day.
     Her mind informed her that this was utterly impossible, that
they had travelled centuries into the future and lightyears away
from home.  The guy she thought she was seeing was most assuredly
dead.  Her gut meanwhile told her mind to stuff it, that it was not
only possible but likely that he'd used the Phoenix Gate at some
time and had arrived here before them, and that it didn't matter
anyway how he got here, that he *was* here and that this was
suddenly a much bigger problem.
     One quick glance at Goliath confirmed that he had seen him
too, and was equally as displeased at the thought.
     "Hello Owen," she said, in as neutral a voice as she could
manage.
     The man ignored her, perhaps had not even heard her, and
continued on without stopping.  Well two, or even three, could play
at that game.  Over the protests of her guards, she hurried over to
him and tapped him on the shoulder.  He hesitated an instant.
     "May I help you?"  His tone was cautious, tinged with the
exact level of confusion she would expect from a total stranger. 
There was something odd about his voice, but it was still all too
familiar, as if somehow Owen's voice had combined with the Magus'
and then added Brooklyn's unmistakable timbre.  She couldn't let
him go yet.
     "Yeah.  You can start by telling us how you got here."  She
felt Goliath's presence at her back, and took comfort from it.
     The man, puzzled, said, "Pardon me?"
     Anger began to build inside of her.  He was playing dumb;
she'd seen the same expression on the faces of too many punks
during questioning, and she wasn't buying it from him.  "What are
you doing here, and what have you done with the Phoenix Gate?!"
     "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."
     A door slid open nearby and a portly gentleman with thin
greying hair looked out.  "Alaric, what's going on?"
     The younger man replied, "I'm not certain, Ambassador."
     "Then deal with it quickly."
     The door closed again and the man turned back to her.  "Unless
you have some reason to detain me, miss, I really must be going."
     "Thank you," said Goliath before she could respond.  "Sorry
about the mistake."
     "No harm done," he said, too fast, and Elisa's instincts went
haywire.  This guy was *not* repeat *not* on the up and up.  She
couldn't let him get away, but Goliath's calm (and restraining, if
necessary) palm was on her back.
     She held out her hand.  "Elisa Maza, and I apologize for
yelling at you.  I honestly thought you were someone else."
     He squeezed gently.  "Alaric McFadden."  Then he extended his
hand to Goliath.  "How do you do, sir?"
     Goliath shook the proffered hand and introduced himself.
     The door opened again.  "Are you finished?"
     "Yes sir."  He looked at them one last time.  "If you'll
excuse me."
     "Of course," said Goliath.  McFadden went through the doorway
after the nameless ambassador.
     Elisa faced Goliath.  "It was him.  You saw it."
     "It looked a great deal like him.  However, Commander Worf
also sounded like Coldstone.  It is possible that we are
encountering descendants of the people we knew."
     "Can you picture Owen having kids?"
     Goliath paused.  "No.  But that does not mean it will not
happen."
     "Too true."  She noticed the agitated looks on the faces of
their guards.  "Speaking of kids, I think we should go to our
quarters now before these two give birth to kittens."  With his
hand still comfortingly against her back, they continued to their
destination.
     After showing them how to use the replicator, the guards left
to take up their duties elsewhere.  At last, they could look around
in peace.  Elisa located the shower and said a quiet prayer of
thanks to whatever deity had been protecting them thus far.  She'd
been wearing the same clothes for days, except for that brief time
under Grandmother's care.  A shower sounded heavenly.
     There were two bedrooms.  She grinned.  It had been too long
since she'd slept in a real bed.  The gargoyles wouldn't need beds,
of course, as they should be turning to stone just about any ...
     "How long have you guys been awake?"  It had been nearly
morning when they'd made their hasty departure from Avalon the last
time.
     "It has been some time," said Goliath.  "However, I don't feel
tired.  Angela?"
     "I'm fine.  I'd like to go see more of the station."
     Goliath shook his head.  "We've already seen too much as it
is.  We can't risk seeing something we shouldn't."
     "But ... "
     "Do not cross me in this.  You should stay here until the Gate
is found."
     "Do you trust Constable Odo's skills more than Elisa's or your
own?"  Her voice was challenging.
     "No, but this is not our world.  We do not know its ways, and
right now the best way to learn is to observe.  Quietly.  Elisa and
I will keep an eye out for things.  You and Bronx will remain
here."
     "That isn't fair.  When will I ever get another chance like
this?"
     "If all goes well, you won't.  We'll go back to Manhattan and
you can feast yourself on all the new things to see there.  But
this is not where we should be."  He placed his hands on her
shoulders.  "Please, Angela."
     She sagged, but there was a strength around her that said she
would not always give in to what he wanted.  "All right.  This
time, I'll stay here."
     Elisa looked longingly into the bathroom.  "Can we hold off on
looking for this thing for fifteen minutes?"  Goliath nodded, and
she, gratefully, went inside, closing the door behind her.

***

     Captain Sisko met them in his office this time.  Elisa sat
down, but Goliath chose to remain standing.  He had trouble sitting
in the small chairs in the observation lounge, and the ones in this
room looked even tinier.
     "I've contacted my superiors at Starfleet Command," said the
Captain.  "They've given me license to deal with you until they can
send someone.  Meanwhile, I've also contacted Wyvern."
     "Wyvern?"  Goliath was confused.  How had they found the
castle?
     "That's the homeworld of the gargoyles, the ones we knew of
until today, anyway."
     "Then they're probably different," said Elisa.  "These
gargoyles are originally from Earth."
     Sisko looked at him.  "Do you turn to stone in daylight?"
     He hesitated.  "Yes."
     "Then they're the same people.  The authorities informed me
that they are already sending an ambassador to the conference.  He
was supposed to be here by now, but their ship had engine trouble
and will be delayed for at least two days."
     "Hopefully, we'll be gone by then."
     "Hopefully.  If not, you'll have someone here as a contact
person until we find your Gate."
     "Captain," said Elisa.  "You know this station better than we
do.  How likely is it that we'll recover the Phoenix Gate?"
     "I wish I could say.  Odo is one of the finest security
officers I've ever known.  When something needs found, he's the one
to find it.  But what you brought on board is far more than a
missing purse or gemstone.  We're highly motivated to find it, but
I can't guarantee that we will.
     "In the meantime, I think you should probably stay close to
your quarters.  The less you see of life in the 24th century, the
happier all of us will be."
     He could see the logic of the thought, but the idea of staying
inside and out of danger while others searched for what was his
gnawed at him.  "Captain, perhaps we can aid each other.  Your
security forces are very busy right now with all these dignitaries
on board.  We could help them search."
     Sisko folded his hands.  "I'm not sure I like that idea. 
However, I'm not directly involved in the investigation, and Odo
would probably appreciate the help.  Speak with him about it."
     "We will," said Elisa, and stood.
     They exchanged parting pleasantries, then moved out into the
Operations room, where Major Kira was working on some kind of
panel.  She nodded at them, but continued what she was doing, aided
now and then by a human man with light, curly hair and a baby's
face.
     Goliath followed Elisa to the elevator-like thing at the other
end of the room.  She examined the wall for a moment, then said,
"Promenade."  The elevator began moving.
     "So what do you think?"
     "I think he'll help us, if only to get us off his station."
     "I think so as well.  The question is, can he help us enough?"
     "There's no way to tell."  She rested her head against his
arm.  "You know, when I got Tom out of jail to talk to you, I
thought we would be gone for an hour, tops."
     "Will the police have many questions for you when we return?"
     "Maybe.  There's no way to tell how long we've been gone,
especially now.  They may have gone on with their lives and
completely forgotten about us."  He heard the despair in her voice.
     "We'll get home."
     She turned on him.  "How do you know that?  We were lost at
sea, now we're lost in space."  Then her face brightened.  "I'll
bet you they have records of our time.  We could look them up to
see if we made it back."
     "No we can't.  Foreknowledge of an event is a dangerous
thing."
     "A little foreknowledge would feel really good right about
now," she said as the elevator slid to a stop on the Promenade.
     "Don't give in to the temptation."
     "Why not?  We're here.  We have the means to find out what
happens to our friends and families.  And to us."  There was a
longing in her voice that he found difficult to ignore, but for all
of their sakes, he had to be firm on this.
     "And if you searched for your family's history and discovered
that Derek was killed while we were away?  Or that *you* were to
die in a year?  Look at Demona."  An old ache stabbed him.  Demona
had gone back in time to turn her younger self against him by
showing her the ruins of their home.  Instead of changing history,
though, she had only fulfilled it, helping to bring about those
same events that she so desperately regretted.
     "I'm *not* Demona," she said, her voice low and betraying more
anger than a shout, and stormed off the lift.

***
Chapter 3: New Paths
***

     Angela looked up from the screen and rubbed her eyes.  How
long had she been reading?  She looked at the clock in the corner
of the monitor.  If she was using it right, she'd been sitting in
the same position for hours.  But what fascinating things she'd
found!  She could find nothing at all on Old New York or the
gargoyle race, but there was so much left that she hardly noticed
its absence.
     She'd been reading about the strange ships people used to
travel between the stars, romantic tales of brave captains and
brilliant doctors, heroic stories of wise bartenders and stupid,
but well-meaning, first officers.  Earlier, she'd had a virtual
tour of France, where Princess Katharine's mother had been born. 
And before that she'd watched as a cat and dog sang about two
mysterious places called Chicago and Nebraska ...
     The door chimed.  Someone was outside.  She stood from her
seat, flexed her wings twice in experiment, then said, "Who is it?"
     "Doctor Bashir.  May I come in?"  A smile came unbidden to her
face.
     "Please do."  The door slid open, revealing the human who had
been so kind to her earlier.
     "Pardon the intrusion," he said.
     "It's no trouble.  I was just reading."  She turned off the
screen absently.
     "I was wondering if you and your companions would like to join
me and some of the other staff members for dinner?  Sitting in your
quarters can get so dull."
     "Goliath and Elisa aren't here right now."  And I'm not
supposed to be out alone.  "But I would love to go."  He smiled. 
He had a nice smile, she decided, for a human.  If only his voice
didn't remind her quite so much of Sevarius ...
     "Is Klingon all right?"
     "Klingon?"  The word was unfamiliar to her.
     "It's a kind of food.  And Commander Worf's species."  She had
a mental image of the Commander on one of the large serving tables
in Oberon's Palace.  The thought was not overly appealing, but she
didn't want to give up her opportunity to see more of the station.
     "May I look before I decide?"
     "Of course."
     She turned to Bronx, who was looking up at her with plaintive
eyes.  "Bronx, guard our quarters."  The watchdog whined.  "If I
find something good, I'll bring it back, all right?"  His ears
perked up slightly, but he still looked resigned as he lay down in
his nest of blankets at the corner of the room.
     She sighed, and then without another backward glance, followed
the doctor out.
     He nodded to the various guards posted on and about the
corridors, who let them pass without a word.  She ventured, "Are
you the head doctor?"
     He nodded.  "Aboard the station, yes.  I make decisions even
Captain Sisko can't override."
     "Really?"  She thought about having the authority to overrule
Goliath.  The prospect frightened her, but at the same time, she
felt a stirring of excitement in her stomach.  He was legendary to
her, almost godlike in what he represented: the glorious past of
her people.  When she had met him, she knew without conscious
thought that she would obey his orders to her death.  Yet here she
was, practically sneaking from their quarters to go out for a while
with someone she barely knew.
     The mixture of mild terror and exhilaration filled her, and
she skipped a step.  The doctor smiled at her.
     "It's not *that* exciting."
     She looked around her, at the bulkheads, the guards, and as
they stepped out onto the Promenade proper, the sheer press of
people from a dozen worlds passing by them as if they saw a
gargoyle woman stroll with a human man every day of the week.
     "Yes.  It is."
     Confusion blurred his features, but she wouldn't explain, only
watched everything with a continuing wonder at it all.  He led her
towards one of the shops, from which strange and enticing smells
were emanating, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd
last tasted cooked food.
     "Welcome to one of my favorite restaurants."
     The shop was small but airy enough that the size wasn't
oppressive.  To add to the feeling of freedom, two cooing birds
were in a delicately wrought golden-coloured cage by the door. 
Tables dotted the room sporadically, as if someone had simply
tossed them in and hoped that they'd land upright.  Behind the
large counter in the middle of it all stood an even larger man. 
His features were similar to Commander Worf's, but his long hair
was unbound.  He snarled in her direction, and she just barely
stopped herself from taking a step back.
     She felt the doctor's reassuring hand on her arm as he said,
"That's just his way of welcoming us here.  I think.  What would
you like?"
     Just being friendly.  Of course.  "What's good?"
     "That depends on your point of view and your code of ethics. 
Do you prefer your food live or dead?"
     Her head spun around.  "What do you mean 'live or dead?'"
     "On second thought, how about I order for both of us?"  She
paused.  He was probably kidding about the 'live' bit.  She hoped.
     "All right."  He approached the counter alone, and in a loud
voice, began to speak in a language she'd never heard before.  She
strained for a moment to hear; she had always loved listening to
the Magus recite by firelight the other tongue he used, the
language of magic.  However, these words had not the same flowing
mystery to them, and after a moment, she ignored them.
     Her attention was drawn back to the birds.  They were both an
off-white color, and plump.  She realized that their sedentary
lives had not required them to maintain the same streamlined shape
as she and her kind favored.  Still, they were fellow winged
creatures, and so she felt an affinity with them, as she had as a
hatchling with the birds populating Avalon's shores.
     Dr. Bashir returned from the counter.  "Our food will be ready
in a few minutes."
     "Oh good.  I'm getting hungry."  She tapped the side of the
cage idly.  "Take care, little ones."
     "They have names, but they're in Klingon.  The male's name
means something along the lines of 'hairy one,' and the female's
means 'morning.'"
     The chef yelled something from his vantage point.
     "What did he say?"
     "He says that the birds have already been promised to
Commander Worf, but that if we would be interested, he could obtain
more."  The Klingon said something else, and Bashir continued: "He
says that this particular breed are especially delicious."
     "Commander Worf is going to eat them?!"  She was shocked.  The
animals, utterly unaware of the mortal blow fate, through the chef,
was to deal them, continued cooing and poking around in their food
dispenser.
     "Not alone, I imagine.  An old associate from his last post
will be arriving on the station tomorrow, and I presume he's
reserved the dinner for her."
     Angela looked again at the birds, then shuddered.  These
people in the future were so strange.  Could she ever hope to
understand them?  She allowed Bashir to lead her to a table.
     When they were seated, the chef brought out two cups of
something steaming.  She decided that she probably shouldn't ask,
and instead took a careful sip.  It was strong, but the flavor
wasn't unpleasant.
     "What do you think?" asked a new voice.  She looked up to see
a human woman.  With spots.
     "It's unique."
     The woman smiled.  "Julian, I think we've found an ambassador
in the making."  She held out her hand.  "Lieutenant Commander
Jadzia Dax.  And you must be Angela."
     "I guess I must."
     Another smile.  "Have you ordered yet?"
     Bashir nodded.  "I didn't take the liberty of ordering for you
this time."
     She patted him companionably on the head.  "You're learning." 
Then she shouted something to the cook in the same guttural
language Bashir had used.  He growled back, and she sat down.
     "How are you enjoying things here?"
     "Actually, I've been in our quarters.  Goliath doesn't want us
looking around in case we accidentally learn something that we
shouldn't."
     "That makes some sense.  Is he the leader of the four of you?"
     She looked down at the table.  "He leads the clan.  The rest
of us follow him.  It is our way."
     "Will you get into trouble for being here?" asked Bashir,
looking concerned.  "I can tell Goliath that I talked you into it." 
That was sweet of him, but she shook her head.
     "It's worth it just to get away from the room for a while. 
I've been on the computer all day, learning fascinating things. 
But there are many more things out here."
     Commander Dax said, "We'll see how long you can stay to learn. 
I analyzed the floor where you arrived.  I found residual traces of
temporal fluctuations in the material.  I don't know if we can
replicate them, but if we can, we may be able to send you back."
     Angela tried to decipher what the commander had just said. 
She decided that the "sending back" part was the only thing she
really needed to know.  She smiled.   Then she saw Dax's eyes move
past her and turned around to see Major Kira enter the restaurant. 
The other woman quickly located them.
     "Sorry to interrupt," she said.
     "It's no problem," said Dax.  "Would you like to join us?  We
have an empty chair."
     "I can't, but thanks."  She handed a PADD to Bashir.  "This
just arrived over subspace.  If you see Worf, you may want to pass
it along."  She nodded politely to Angela, then exited the room as
Bashir scanned the screen.  His face fell as he read.
     "Is everything okay?" asked Dax, concerned.
     "It seems I won't be receiving that inspection after all.  Dr.
Picard went into labor yesterday afternoon."
     Dax smiled.  "I'll be sure to pass along my congratulations."
     "Don't."  He set the PADD down.  "The baby is three months
premature.  They don't expect him to live."
     Angela bit her lip.  'I'm sorry,' didn't seem to fit the
situation.  She felt for the child's parents.
     It had been ten years by her reckoning since their human
caretakers on the island had come to two realizations concerning
the Eggs.  First, they had on their hands thirty-five adolescent
gargoyles (and Boudicca, but she'd been the only one of her kind
until Bronx) who were discovering that their rookery brothers and
sisters were far more interesting than they had been as hatchlings. 
Second, the Guardian had not seen any sign of other gargoyles in
his many travels to the outside world.  The children were most
likely the last of their kind, and thus, the only possible parents
of the next generation.  Since that point, several couples had
attempted to lay eggs, had thought that they'd caught more than
once, but had met with no success.  Princess Katharine said that
they were probably just too young, but the Magus had not been so
certain.  The years had passed, and still no eggs.  No children. 
No future.
     She could empathize deeply with the poor child's parents.
     Commander Dax said, "In that case, Worf might want to take
some time off to visit."
     "Maybe you should suggest it to him."
     "I will."
     The other two fell silent for a moment, and Angela suddenly
felt awkward, as though she was listening in on an unspoken
conversation.  She glanced out onto the Promenade, hoping that she
*wouldn't* see Goliath or Elisa.  So far, so good.
     Another man walked into the shop.  Dr. Bashir waved him over.
     "Angela, meet Chief Operations Officer Miles O'Brien.  Chief,
this is Angela."
     The man smiled widely and took a seat.  "I saw you in Ops
earlier today.  You look a little less lost now."
     "I'm getting used to being lost."
     "So I've heard.  Maybe we can talk you into telling us about
some of the places you've been."
     "There aren't that many."
     "Then it'll be a short story," said Bashir, "but still worth
hearing."
     Their food arrived moments later.  Angela stared at her plate
as the Chief ordered his own dinner.  It wasn't moving.  At least,
she was fairly sure it wasn't moving.
     "What is it?" she asked carefully, uncertain that she really
wanted the answer.
     "It's a new dish that the chef is trying.  It's called
Kentucky fried gagh.  It's actually quite good, in my opinion."  He
speared some of his own food and demonstrated how to eat it.
     Angela watched, and felt a quiet shudder as he swallowed.  She
looked at her dinner again, and tentatively took a forkful into her
mouth.  The taste was intriguing, both familiar and exotic, with
just the proper spice to wake up her tongue.  She took another
bite, with much the same result.
     "So what do you think?"
     "I like it."
     "Good."  He graced her with another smile, and she returned
it.
     The conversation turned back to her adventures with the others
on the boat.  Make that the Evil Boat.  It had only been a few
days, but she was already sick of the blasted thing.  She loved
their journey to new places, but she'd be just as happy if they
spent the rest of it on foot or wing.  She'd be even happier if
they found their way to Manhattan soon.

***

     It was quite late when Dr. Bashir took her back to her
quarters.  Only when they approached the door did she remember that
she wasn't supposed to be out at all, and she slowed down.
     "Are you feeling all right?" asked the doctor.
     "I'm fine."  She changed the subject.  "I had a wonderful time
tonight.  I've never seen so many marvelous things."
     He and Commander Dax had taken her to the top level of the
Promenade and shown her the wormhole as a ship went through.  She
hadn't been able to breathe while she watched, and had only just
resisted the urge to kneel.  The colours had been so vibrant and
alive, as though all the magic in the universe had collected in one
place and burst out into pure glory.  Then she'd wished that
Gabriel could have been there to see it with her, and she'd grown
a little homesick.
     "If you stay on the station a while, I'm sure we could arrange
for you to see more.  Perhaps Jadzia and I could even take you to
Bajor for a day."
     "I'd like that."  She glanced at the door, and could almost
see Goliath behind it.  "You'd better go now."
     "All right.  Good night, Angela."
     "Good night, Doctor."
     "Julian."
     "Good night.  *Doctor*."  He grinned, then turned back towards
wherever his own quarters were.
     Angela steeled herself for the coming argument as she opened
the door.  Goliath was pacing the floor, while Elisa was curled up
on the couch, Bronx's head on her lap, looking as if she were about
to fall asleep.  Goliath's head jerked up as she entered the room.
     "Where have you been?"
     "Out," she said as casually as she could.
     "Out where?  With whom?  Do you have any idea what time it
is?"  She swallowed her reply before it formed.  He was acting like
a concerned father.  Which he was, but he didn't need to know that
yet.  She glanced at the clock, and mentally translated it to a
time frame with which she was slightly more familiar.  11:21.  It
*was* getting late.
     "I told you to stay here.  You don't know any of these people. 
One of them might try to harm you to get the spell to the Phoenix
Gate, and we wouldn't have known where you were."
     "You don't know them, either!  I made some friends tonight. 
If we are to remain here, we're going to need allies.  Besides, you
don't lead my clan.  I follow Gabriel and the Guardian.  I follow
*you* only by choice."  Her heart pounded.  It wasn't precisely the
truth; Goliath *was* the leader of Clan Wyvern, and the Eggs were
technically members of that clan by birth.  Still, to all extents
and purposes, they were their own clan.  Clan Avalon, she thought,
and no one else tells us what to do.
     Elisa said, "It's not that we object to your seeing the
station.  We were worried about you."
     "You don't need to worry.  I can take care of myself."  She
turned to Goliath, a slow burn growing inside her.  "You left us
with Princess Katharine when we were eggs.  You didn't *have* to be
put under the spell.  You could have stayed and raised us and been
our leader.  You have no right to come back into my life and give
me orders."  They faced each other, and she felt her blood almost
boiling.  So this was what it meant to have a real father.  Somehow
it didn't match up to her expectations.
     Elisa stood and quickly placed herself between them.  "Stop
it, both of you.  We're all a little irritable right now."  She
yawned.  "But we're also all safe.  Let's continue this after we
get some sleep."  She looked at them.  "Are you tired yet?"
     Angela thought about it.  She hadn't slept since the awful day
in Sevarius' clutches.  If they hadn't left their own time, they
would have turned to stone by this point.  Yet now, a good twelve
hours after their arrival, they were still flesh.
     Elisa looked thoughtful.  "I didn't even ask.  Is the station
circling a star?"
     "No," said Angela.  "It's circling something called a
wormhole."  She caught on to Elisa's thought.  "If there's no sun,
there's no sunrise."
     Goliath said, "And without a sunrise, we will not turn to
stone."
     "But without stone hibernation, how will we heal?  Or sleep?"
     Elisa looked from one to the other.  "Well, you know what they
say.  When in Rome ... "
     Angela looked at her blankly.  "When in Rome what?"
     "Never mind.  We're about to find out if gargoyles can sleep
without the aid of a laser cannon."  She looked from one room to
the other, spared a very quick glance to Goliath, then took
Angela's arm.  "You and I will bunk in this room.  You two can have
the other."  She went into the nearer room.  Angela shrugged and
followed her, leaving Goliath to do as he wished.
     "So how do you go about this sleeping thing?"  She'd seen
humans asleep before; occasionally, one or all of the three on
Avalon would nod off by the fire, and then she could see the young
people they had once been.
     Elisa had crawled beneath the blankets on one of the two beds,
and was sitting up with them spilled around her waist.  "First, you
have to lie down."  Angela moved the blankets aside on the other
bed and sat down tentatively.  Her wings pulled in tight against
her, she put her legs under the covers.  She began shifting around.
     "What's wrong?"
     "My tail."
     "Try this."  She rolled over onto her side and slid down until
the blankets covered her shoulders.  Angela tried the same,
pinching her wing in the process.  After a little adjusting,
though, she found a relatively comfortable position.
     "Now what?"
     "Now you close your eyes, and in a few minutes, you fall
asleep."  Elisa closed her own eyes and lay her head against the
pillow.  In less than a minute, her breathing had slowed to a calm,
easy rhythm.
     After a while, Angela opened her eyes.  "Elisa, I still can't
fall asleep."
     The other woman's breathing changed suddenly as her eyes flew
open in the near-darkness.  She frowned.  "Try harder."
     "I don't think I can do this."
     "Would it help if I sang a lullaby?"
     "It might."
     "I was kidding."
     "Oh."  She had a sudden thought.  "If I can't sleep, I'll bet
Goliath can't either.  Maybe you could help him try to sleep, too."
     There was a long pause, and she began to think that she'd
nodded off again.  Then she said, "Angela?"
     "Yes, Elisa?"
     "Go to sleep."
     "Yes, Elisa."

***

     Odo watched from across the Promenade as the light to the
tailor shop dimmed and went out.  Moments later, the proprietor
emerged, glanced around carefully, and locked up.  He did not
appear to notice the constable's scrutiny, although that could have
been merely a ruse.  It wouldn't surprise Odo either way.
     As he watched Garak head home for the evening, he checked the
name off his mental list.  He'd had the tailor on his short list of
suspects, right after Quark, and had been observing him most of the
day.  If he *had* stolen the gargoyle's device, he was doing a
remarkable job of concealing the fact.  Then again, concealment and
subterfuge had once been his stock in trade.  Odo shook his head in
a manner he'd unconsciously picked up from his humanoid companions
over the years; he had eliminated Garak from the list.  Quark, on
the other hand ...
     As if reading his thoughts, Quark walked through his line of
sight.  Now *there* was typical suspicious behaviour: sneaking
looks from side to side, obvious nervousness, and always, the raw
greed in his eyes.  Then again, this was also typical *Quark*
behaviour.  He sighed.  He happened to know from a few inside
sources that a major deal was going to take place tonight in the
bar, and he intended to be there to break it.  Unfortunately, he
was fairly certain that the Gate had nothing to do with it.
     Another form came into his sight, much closer, and he focused
quickly to see Kira standing in his doorway.  Unable to stop
himself, he smiled.
     "Major!  Please come in."
     She returned the smile, came inside, and placed herself in the
chair opposite.  "So, any luck finding our thief?"
     "Not yet, but I've been following a few leads."  He watched
her face carefully for any sign.  There was some disappointment,
but also trust in him.  His heart warmed, that is, if he'd had a
heart rather than just a cavity in his mobile mass of flesh.
     "I think I might have one for you."
     "Really?  Where?"  He sat forward and listened attentively.
     "I was coming back from Ops a few minutes ago, when I had a
very strange encounter with Ambassador Ssassnd.  Basically, she
told me that, if she were to have a look at the Phoenix Gate before
we return it to the gargoyles, the Breen would be very grateful."
     "How grateful?"
     "She didn't mention an amount, but she indicated it was more
than I would probably see in three lifetimes."
     "I see.  Do you think she had anything to do with the actual
theft?"
     He read the defeat in her shoulders.  "No, but I think it
leads to something possibly even worse.  The ambassadors are going
to start forming alliances, and when one of those alliances gets
hold of the Phoenix Gate, we're all in trouble."
     He nodded.  "I've come to the same conclusion.  This is going
to make our job much more difficult.  The ambassadors aren't likely
to help the investigation if they have a personal stake in it."
     "And meanwhile, everyone is going to be suspicious of everyone
else."  She sighed.  "Wasn't it just yesterday when all we had to
worry about was whether Dukat would take it into his head to attack
the station?"
     "It seems like it."  Her body language spoke volumes to him,
filled with worry, regret, and also simple determination.  For what
might have been the thousandth time since they'd first met, he
wondered what it would be like to tell her that he shared those
same worries, would bear the regrets for her, if only she'd allow
him.
     She stretched, and he tried not to stare as her muscles
extended smoothly, then gracefully pulled back to her sides.  "I
think I'll deal with quadrant-wide warfare in the morning.  Right
now, I could use some sleep.  Good night, Odo."  She stood up and
headed towards the door.
     "Good night, Major."  He watched her until he could no longer
see her, then remained a while in uneasy contemplation.  His
reverie was finally broken by thoughts of Quark, and the
recollection that he should get into place before the Ferengi's
meeting tonight.
     He got out of his chair, and as he passed to the door, his
hand brushed against the chair where Kira had been sitting moments
ago.  He sensed the slight warmth of her lingering body heat, and
could not help but wonder if she had left a lingering trace of her
scent in the room.

***

     He awoke quickly, as he always did.  He knew instinctively
what time it was, but checked the chronometer out of habit: 0400
hours, station time.  Getting used to a twenty-six hour schedule
was not the greatest feat he'd ever accomplished, but he was
working hard on it.  It was to his advantage that he required next
to no rest, but occasionally, the wear of it all caught him in a
surprising fatigue, when he would *need* to be alone for several
hours.  Fortunately, his employer accepted his oddities as another
aspect of his doing his duties so well.
     He composed himself and began to think.  He would have to
locate the Phoenix Gate before the rest of these simpletons, of
course.  There was simply no other alternative.  He would find
whoever had stolen it, kill him or her, and then do whatever else
needed to be done to use it.  His path was as clear as the stars in
space.  The only difficulty lay in discovering who had taken it. 
There indeed was the rub.  It stood to reason that to find a
magical talisman, one needed a magical sort of compass to point the
way.  Or point directly opposite.  He stood in one flowing motion,
and walked to the replicator panel.
     In an almost inaudible whisper, he said, "Computer, one
compass, approximately 20 grams in mass, composed of unprocessed
iron."
     As the device shimmered into view, the light from the
replicator briefly lit up the mad smile on his face, but no one was
there to take notice.

***

     Ekan sat with his long legs dangling over the edge of the
second floor of the Promenade.  So far, Constable Odo had been too
busy to notice him, which was fine by him.  He had discovered some
time ago that being ignored could be a very useful asset in getting
things accomplished.
     He'd spent most of the morning up here, observing.  The
strange human woman, the one who had appeared suddenly just the day
before, had asked him a few questions, her four-legged friend
sniffing at him from a careful distance.  Otherwise, he'd been
undisturbed.
     Was it his face, he wondered?  According to his mother, he had
an open, honest expression about him, but he knew that he had just
enough of her exotic countenance to work against that, making him
appear at first glance to be mentally slow.  People smiled vacantly
at him and turned their faces away, trying to dismiss what they saw
as his imperfection from their thoughts.  When he'd first realized
what was happening, he'd been infuriated, had made a point of
getting attention and keeping it, by whatever means possible.  That
had lasted about two weeks.
     After the initial fire had burned down, he'd complained about
it to Tanith.  She, being the oldest and wisest of the three of
them, had pointed out to him that being overlooked meant that he
could get away with an extraordinarily large number of things
without even being suspected.  As usual, she'd been right.  What it
meant to him now was that he could sit here in peace without
worrying about whether Odo would chase him off the Promenade, or
his mother, or even that weirdo Moktan.
     For most of the morning, he'd been watching two separate
religious groups set up shop across from the Bajoran Temple.  It
was actually quite amusing.  The first set consisted of two men in
odd-looking black uniforms with dark glasses, who made the most
extraordinary music for passersby in exchange for money.
     Odo had approached them and informed them that begging was
illegal on the station.  To this, the taller of the two had stated
simply, "We're on a mission from God."
     An altercation had ensued, which had ended up involving most
of the station's security personnel.  It seemed that the pair were
wanted in several systems for various charges.  Odo finally led
them away, a development that filled Ekan with melancholy.  They
had been interesting to watch.
     The other religious group wasn't quite so entertaining, as
they were much quieter, and besides, they weren't asking for
donations.  Instead, the young women stood in a group proclaiming
the glory of their god in gentle voices, while handing out
pamphlets of ten reasons each why their deity was the one true god.
     He'd actually gone down to get a pamphlet after about an hour
of observation, and had then spent several long minutes listening
to Sister Nina and Sister Cherissa explain to him the fundamental
truths to be gleaned from worship.  He had finally escaped back to
his perch just minutes before, and then made a silent vow to avoid
all future contact with Owenite nuns.  In fact, he'd ...
     Hello, he thought, and peered over the edge as another one of
the strangers looked around nervously and then walked into the
light.  It was the young female gargoyle, Angela if he recalled
correctly.  He'd seen her when she'd appeared at first, then had
forgotten her in the wake of discovering what the fascinating toy
the other gargoyle had could do.
     She was most definitely not pretty by Romulan standards;
purple-grey skin tended to be a major turnoff for his people for
some reason.  On the other hand ...
     He stood up and slipped as fast as he could down to where she
was walking.  He stole up beside her, and said offhandedly, "Nice
day for a stroll."
     "Yes," she said, absently, then considered her statement.  A
smile moved across her face.  "Except of course that we're in space
and thus there is no day."
     "This is true," he admitted.  "I'm Ekan.  What's your name?"
     "Angela."
     "Nice to meet you," he said, and bowed in an exaggerated
manner, which brought yet another smile to her face.  He decided
immediately that he liked her smile.  "Would you care to walk
around with me this lovely non-day?"
     "Sure."  They began looking into the shops.  He'd seen them
before, and he found out that she had, as well, but her eyes said
that she didn't want to go back to wherever she was supposed to be
just yet.  He felt the same way.
     They had only been walking a few minutes when the human woman
and the beast came back from whatever corridor they'd taken.  The
animal spotted them and barked before they could duck out of sight.
     "Angela," said the woman.  "You know what Goliath is going to
say if he sees you out here."
     "I know, I know.  I promise I won't get into any trouble,
Elisa.  I just want to look."
     "I know what you mean, but there are people out here who could
hurt you if you're not careful."
     "Ekan!"  He didn't have to turn to recognize the voice.
     "Yes?" he asked, as Moktan joined them.
     "Does your mother know you are out of our quarters?"
     Ekan glanced at Angela.  "Deja gripe."  Then he said to
Moktan, "No, but she didn't say that I couldn't go."
     "Yes, she did.  When we arrived."
     The human woman looked at Angela, who lowered her head but
grinned anyway.  Then the woman said, "I think we have a similar
problem."
     The beast began sniffing Moktan, who backed away quickly from
it.  "Get that thing away from me."
     "Come on, Bronx," said the woman.
     Ekan said, "Moktan doesn't like animals much.  Or people."
     "That will be enough, young man."
     Angela said, "Maybe we *should* go back."
     Ekan asked, "Where's the fun in that?"
     "Keeping your head attached to your shoulders," replied
Moktan, and pointed back towards the Habitat Ring.
     Ekan sighed dramatically.  "Well, it was nice meeting you,
anyway."  Regretfully, he headed towards home.  A glance over his
shoulder showed that Angela had to do the same.  Interesting, he
thought, and then speculated no more on the matter.  He had to get
his mother's permission to come out again.  Figure about ten
minutes, and he'd be back to the top level, staring at the people. 
Alone.
     He ambled back towards their quarters, taking his time.  His
mother was supposed to be working out a few fine points with
Ambassador Metzger, but would be coming back for lunch soon.  It
was just as well that he was going back; if she had found the room
empty, she would have worried.
     Suddenly, he changed directions and headed towards the
approximate location of Metzger's quarters.  He could escort his
mother back like a proper young man, and confuse her totally in the
process.  She would be certain to let him go exploring again
afterwards.  Besides, he needed to mention to the ambassador that
little matter of payment for services rendered.
     Another turn found him in an unfamiliar corridor, and he
paused, uncertain where to go next.  Around yet another corner, he
heard footsteps, and silently moved down the hall to find the
owner.  When he saw her, he grinned.
     "Hi again."
     Angela turned as if startled.  "Oh, it's you.  Hello."
     "Going back home?"
     She nodded.  "Elisa's right.  Goliath would be upset if he saw
me on the Promenade."
     A thought struck him and stayed. "Well, he didn't say that you
couldn't go to other parts of the station, did he?"
     "He told me not to leave our quarters.  Twice."
     "But if he didn't know, it wouldn't hurt him."
     She looked thoughtful.  "Probably not.
     "Great!  Let's escort my mother back to our quarters, and then
we can go exploring.  There's lots of places around here that
aren't used.  Maybe we can even find a clue as to where your
Phoenix Gate is."  Her face was a mask of uncertainty.  "Unless you
want to go back to your quarters now, of course."
     "No, not really.  Where's your mother?"
     "Somewhere around here."  He scrutinized the wall panel. 
"This way."  He led her down the corridor to where he was now
certain Ambassador Metzger's quarters lay.
     He paused at the door.  Should he knock?  He might be
disturbing them, which would be a very bad idea.  On the other
hand, he knew how much his mother hated to be in intense
negotiations with anyone for a long time.  According to her, such
things gave her indigestion.  He knocked.
     The door slid open.  The man on the other side was not
Ambassador Metzger.  In fact, one look at him gave Ekan the same
creepy feeling he had when he looked at Moktan.
     Ekan had never considered himself a sensitive, at least, no
more than any other Romulan.  Still, he occasionally had the oddest
feelings about people, and he was getting a major feeling right now
about this human, and it frightened him.  It wasn't so much of a
dark presence as an absence of something necessary.  If there *was*
a darkness present, it was the darkness that came when all the
dreams that were possible had been dreamt already, leaving nothing,
not even the stars, to brighten the eternal night.  It was a
darkness beyond longing, beyond death.  And it had replaced the
man's soul with silence.
     "Hi," said Ekan, cautiously.  "Is Ambassador Kriana here?  I'm
her son."
     The man shook his head.  "She left a few minutes ago.  I
believe she was headed back to her quarters."
     "Okay, thanks."  The man closed the door, leaving Ekan
strangely terrified.
     Angela, who had stayed out of sight, came near him.  "What's
wrong?"
     "I don't know."  Then he covered with a smile.  "Come on,
let's go see if we can get back to my quarters before Mother does."
     They hurried through the winding paths, and he was struck by
how light she was on her feet.  He would have thought that she
would be somewhat clumsy, what with being more used to flying than
walking.  Instead, she outran him twice before pausing to let him
show the way again.
     They reached the door in record time, and he was about to go
in, when he heard voices from the other side.
     Angela asked, "What's ..."  He hushed her with a gesture. 
This was odd.  Moktan was out, he thought, and Mother disliked
having visitors in their quarters.  He strained to listen.
     " ... would be a remarkable opportunity for both our peoples." 
The low rumble was undoubtedly Klingon, and if he got his voices
right, it was Ambassador T'Koeneke himself.
     "I agree," came his mother's reply in her unmistakable accent,
"but I don't believe it is an opportunity we should pursue.  There
are too many other risks involved."
     "They are negligible, and the benefits would be beyond
compare.  Think about it, Kriana."
     "I have, and I've also considered that our people are sworn
blood enemies.  While I might be moved to consider such a juncture,
my people would be outraged."
     "You have three children.  I have five.  You know as well as
I do that sometimes you must do things they do not like because it
is for their well-being."
     "My people are not children, T'Koeneke.  Nor am I."
     "I am well aware of that, I assure you.  However, you know
this would be good for all involved."
     There was a long pause, and he wondered if they had changed
location.  Then he heard her voice again, much lower.  "I know." 
He pulled away from the doorway.  What in the name of Kolker was
going on in there?  He had the feeling that he didn't want to know.
     "Angela," he whispered, "let's just go.  I don't think Mother
will mind."

***

     They meandered together down a different hallway than from the
one they had come.  Aimlessly, they wandered down to the unused
parts of the station, the old cargo bays that hadn't yet been
refinished and the like.  Things were messy down here, and she
found herself sniffing at the dust.  There was no way they would
have let any part of Oberon's Palace get that dirty.
     "Look at this!" said Ekan, and he wiped away part of the grime
to reveal an odd inscription: AS loves NV.  She read it, mystified.
     "Who are they?"
     He shrugged.  "I don't know.  Maybe some Bajoran or Cardassian
couple."  
     Another set of marks caught her eye, and she wiped another
inscription clean: "Cool 'Disco' Dan."
     "At least we can read the writing on the wall," said Ekan.
     "What do you mean?"
     "Never mind."
     They continued their walk.  It was very different here than in
the rest of the station, much darker, much danker.  It gave her the
shivers, but it was also intriguing to see what had been.  Ekan
began telling her the story of the Cardassian Occupation, and what
the overlords had done to their Bajoran workers.  She was horrified
at his detailed descriptions.  Surely no sentient race could treat
another so terribly.  She said so.
     He scowled.  "There are a number of Cardassians who say the
same thing.  Even though it was only a few years ago, many of them
refuse to acknowledge that it happened, and that's far worse."
     "Why do you say that?  I'd think everyone would want to forget
something like this."
     "They don't realize it, but if people forget, then when a
situation comes around like it again, they won't remember how awful
the first was, and more people will die the same way.  The only way
to move past it is to acknowledge that it did happen, to tell their
children, to not let their grandchildren forget, and just maybe,
the horror of the very thought will keep it from ever happening
again."
     She thought about it.  "Like the massacre at Castle Wyvern. 
Even though we weren't there, we heard the story over and over
again, so that we wouldn't forget."
     "Maybe the people who told you also did it to keep themselves
from forgetting."
     "Maybe.  How did you learn about all this?"
     "Sitting, watching, listening.  You'd be amazed."
     They wandered for a good three hours, chatting amicably, when
she realized that she wanted to be home before Goliath and Elisa.
     "I think we should head home soon."
     "All right."  Somehow, he led the way back without making a
single error in turning.  She was impressed.  Soon enough, they
were at the door to her quarters.  He bowed as ludicrously as
before, and left without a parting word.
     Angela went inside.  Fortunately, the others weren't home this
time.  She went to the computer terminal again, and asked about any
records that might exist on a Cool 'Disco' Dan.

***
Chapter 4: New Friends
***

     "Thank you for your time," said Elisa as the door closed in
front of her.  That made thirty people they'd interrogated today,
and still nothing.  Everyone had seen them arrive, but no one had
seen how the Phoenix Gate could possibly have been stolen.  It was
as if it had simply vanished from the station.
     Perhaps it had.  Perhaps someone else had taken it, had looked
up the spell from a database somewhere, and had already left
without a trace.  Which would mean that the four of them were stuck
there, possibly for good, just because she had wanted to get home
faster.
     She made a brief wish that the Archmage had stayed dead, that
the Magus had not turned the Weird Sisters to screech owls, that
Demona had been stronger in spirit when the Vikings had come
raiding the castle.  There were so many could have beens that her
brain hurt to even consider the possible lives they could now be
living.
     While Goliath and Angela had slept the past few times, she had
speculated what an ideal universe would have been like.  The castle
wouldn't have fallen, and so the clan would not have been
destroyed, and so the Magus wouldn't have turned the guys to stone,
and so Xanatos would have stayed a poor fisherman in Maine, and so
Derek would still be human.  But she never would have met Goliath,
and the others, and so she probably wouldn't have been given Matt
as a partner, and so she would have spent her life never knowing
the greatest friends, and so ...
     She sighed.
     She'd spent the previous day following Bronx around as he
sniffed for any trace of the Gate.  At the end of the day, all she
had were sore feet and a short temper.  She hadn't exactly snapped
at Goliath when they returned to their quarters; they'd merely had
a "discussion."  It had been a long discussion, too, held in low
tones so as not to disturb Angela, who had retired early.
     He'd made the remark that had they been still sailing, they
could have reached civilization by that point.  She'd replied that
had they still been sailing, they would probably be *dead* by that
point.  Then he'd said that they would never know for certain.
     It had gone downhill from there.  They had finally stopped
speaking, and she'd gone into her room, and he'd gone to his, and
she'd sat in the darkness for a very long time, wondering if he was
doing the same.  She'd risen first, and had gone out looking for
Odo before the others were awake.
     In less than an hour, she had to go with them to the docking
ring for the arrival of the gargoyle ambassador.  She was not
looking forward to it.

***

     When he glanced at his watch to check the time, he discovered
he'd been working nonstop for the past seven hours.  This was not
actually surprising.  Since the unexpected arrival two days
beforehand of the four travellers from the past, he had been making
busy work for himself in the quarters he shared with the
Ambassador.  He pushed the PADD away, rested his elbows on the
desk, then placed his forehead in his palms.  He needed to think
clearly about this, but at the moment, clarity was far from him.
     The one thing that he could honestly claim was in his favor at
this point was Ambassador Troi's unavoidable absence from the
conference.  Normally, he could deflect one of her casual probes
without any difficulty; given his current emotional state, he
wasn't sure he could deflect a mosquito.
     As was always his habit when things inside him became too
overwhelming to reconcile, he pushed his thoughts into a small room
in his mind and locked the door.  He would only be in trouble when
the room became too full to add anything else, and then he would
have to face what was inside.  Considering the length of time he'd
been doing it, and the sheer volume of emotional tangles he had
brushed aside in this manner, he wasn't certain his sanity would
survive such a housecleaning.
     He looked at the PADD again.  At least he'd spent his time
constructively, so far as the Ambassador was concerned.  He'd been
researching the histories of the other delegates present, matching
up strategies to victories, listing significant failures as well as
achievements.  Some had been easier to trace than others.
     He had brief notes beside Giroux's name on her environmental
stance.  She'd be concerned with the impact that the Klingon
occupation would have on the warp-speed limitations in the sector. 
In addition, she would probably be joined in her concerns by
Ambassador Sabado, as his voting record indicated a strong sympathy
towards her cause.
     Ambassador McLeod would be a difficult one to judge before the
sessions were actually meeting.  He had a tendency not to play his
hand all at once, instead allowing those around him to unfold their
strategies.  It had worked; he had one of the highest success rates
of those present.  Of course, he also had the longest career, but
that was only known to a select few.
     One of those few happened to be Ambassador Knight, who had a
propensity for taking assignments in off-world situations.  His
tactics would also be difficult to determine beforehand; there was
something about taking the long view of things that made an
ambassador shy of getting embedded too deeply into any set pattern.
     There was an extensive file on Ambassador Nejla.  He had
carefully studied her methods of attack over the past ten years,
and had determined that she used what seemed to be a disadvantage
into a major asset.  Raimondi had told him one night over drinks
about the accident, and how Nejla had developed her own latent
psychic predisposition into a means of communication that was both
simple and impressive.  She hadn't told him how this gift also made
the ambassador an expert in telepathic suggestion.  He had figured
that part out on his own, but had chosen not to warn Metzger. 
Usually, Nejla's objectives matched his own close enough to make
her added influence a blessing.
     Then there was Ambassador Jeffrey of Wyvern.  His presence
would be another unknown in an already potentially hazardous
situation.  Oh, his actions in the negotiations themselves were
obvious.  Jeffrey wasn't a complicated person; what he wanted and
what he was willing to offer in exchange were apparent to everyone
well before things ever began.  Of far greater concern was his
possible effect on the outcome of the *other* situation.  They were
in uncharted seas now, and anyone who had the faintest inkling of
the final consequences would be a powerful player indeed.
     This led him back to thoughts of the four travellers.  He'd
had a typical day up to the moment when the all-too-familiar fire
surrounding the Phoenix Gate had burned into his vision for the
first time in centuries.  And when the fire had died, who had it
revealed but the one face he had honestly believed he would never
see again for the rest of a dark eternity.
     How long had it been? he wondered.  How long in human years
and gargoyle years and what should have been lifetimes?  He could
still see the other flames burning in the night, the flames that
had stolen away his reason for being.
     One of the several capricious gods he'd managed to annoy in
his over-long lifetime had suddenly placed before him the entire
universe, in the person of the woman to whom he'd bonded forever,
and in the form of a device that could allow the two of them remain
together always.  Unfortunately, that same god had brought with the
woman the one being that she had proven she could love more, and
then had pulled the Gate away from all of them, leaving her close
to his touch and even more untouchable than she had ever been.  It
was enough to drive him mad.
     The chime sounded at the door.
     "Come," he said, wondering who it could be, and hoping
insanely that it might be ...
     The door slid open.  He sat back down, unable to speak.  What
was she *doing* here???  Less than a moment later, he understood.
     "May I come in?" she asked, and waited for his nod.  She
stepped through the doorway and into the pool of light in the room. 
Her dark hair was much shorter than he remembered, cut in a spiky
style that managed to accentuate her thin face.  Between her hair
and her clothing, she looked very little as she had when they had
last encountered each other, save that her eyes had retained the
same mischief.  "It's good to see you," she said.  "It's been too
long."
     "You knew where to find me."  He turned back to his PADD, his
nerves jangling like lunatic bells.  He didn't need her here on top
of everything else.
     "I suppose I did, but I've been busy.  I'm a pilot these
days."
     "I know.  I *do* keep tabs on you."  He made a token effort to
continue his work, then knew that her presence would prevent him
from being able to concentrate.  He sighed.  "I won't ask why you
came.  I just want to know how you learned of it so quickly."
     "Scuttlebutt.  The typical.  It's not every day that visitors
from the past happen to show up at a conference with a potentially
devastating weapon and then misplace the damned thing."
     "They didn't misplace it.  It was stolen."
     "So who stole it?"  She sounded almost disinterested, which
made his next words all the harder to say.
     "I have no idea."
     She furrowed her brow.  "What do you mean you have no idea? 
Didn't she tell you?"
     He swiveled his chair to face her fully.  "No she did *not*
tell me.  Not the identity of the thief, not about it being stolen,
not even about coming to this space station in the first place.  As
far as I knew, they went from Loch Ness to Prague without any
interruption.  Are you satisfied?"  His voice was filled with more
bitterness than he normally chose to show, but what did it matter? 
It never seemed to make any difference to her.
     "So she didn't tell you.  And *you* didn't ... ?"
     "No I did not."  Not that he hadn't considered it, of course.
     "Uh oh.  You Know Who is going to be very put out."
     "I know."
     She glanced around the room, and he read the disapproval in
her eyes at its spareness.  "So what are you doing holed up in
here?  I'd think you would be spending quality time with our
guests."
     "And no doubt completely destroying the timestream as we know
it in the process?  No thank you.  Besides, I'm busy working on
research for Ambassador Metzger."
     She swiped the PADD from his hand and scanned it.  "Outside of
Court, I haven't seen this many immortals gathered in one place
since we went to that bar in Seattle.  Or was it Vancouver?"  He
grabbed the PADD back from her.  "Well this is obviously *much*
more interesting than spending time with people you haven't seen in
over three hundred years."  Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
     "It's necessary research if we are to be successful in the
negotiations."
     "Then let Johnny boy do it himself while you get down to their
quarters before their time here ends."
     "That's not an option.  I refuse to do anything that could
jeopardize the timestream."
     "So you're just going to sit in here doing paperwork, playing
at Achilles sulking in his tent?  You don't do the brooding hero
bit well."
     "I don't recall asking your opinion."  He focused his
attention on the PADD again.
     She sighed.  "I'm sorry."  Her eyes said that she was telling
the truth.  "I guess I'm a little edgy, too."
     "It's understandable."  Again they resumed their ancient
truce.
     "I thought of something on the way here.  They're going to
eventually want to start looking up things about their future.  We
need to delete the relevant files on them before they get too
curious."
     At least he was prepared for her in this.  "Already done.  The
files aren't deleted, merely renamed.  Angela was looking for them
the first day."
     "You work fast."  There was a tinge of admiration to her
voice.
     "When it's needed."  Her mouth turned up at the corner, giving
him an opening.  "How have you been, Morgan?"
     "Caitlin."
     "*Morgan*" he emphasized.  "We're alone."
     "I don't care if we're alone or not.  I'm going by Caitlin
now.  You'd better not forget it this time, either."  The edge was
back.  He recalled a time when she'd been his closest friend and
confidant.  Had their relationship deteriorated to the point that
they immediately went at each other's throats even after two
decades apart?
     The outer door slid open, and Metzger wandered inside.  His
eyes were dark-hollowed, and he looked badly in need of a shave.
     "Sir!  Are you all right?"  He rushed to his employer's side. 
With some guilt, he realized he'd been so immersed in his work, and
his memories, that he'd virtually ignored the man.
     "Fine, fine.  Just been busy."  He sat down heavily on the
couch.  Then he noticed that they were not alone.  "Oh, excuse me,
Miss ... ?"
     "*Caitlin* McFadden," she said, sending him a glance to
confirm.  He nodded minutely.
     Metzger turned to him.  "Alaric?"
     "Forgive me.  I've forgotten my manners.  This is Ambassador
John Metzger.  Sir, this is my sister," he paused, "Caitlin."
     "It's nice to meet you, Ambassador."  She held out her hand,
which he took gently.
     "A pleasure, ma'am.  Please forgive me if I don't rise, but I
am utterly exhausted."  She glanced at her hand briefly, then
opened and closed it as though waking it up from sleep.  "So what
brings you to the station?" he asked.
     "Oh, I thought I would drop by to visit my ne'er-do-well
brother over there."  She sent him a sweet smile.  "Maybe even
convince him to show me around."
     "Good luck.  He volunteered to look over some things for me,
and as far as I can tell, has been in here ever since.  Is that
right, Alaric?"
     "Yes sir," he mumbled.
     "Well," she said, "now that I'm here, maybe you can take a
little break."
     Before he could object, Metzger said, "Please do!  I could use
the time alone to do some planning of my own.  Go out and enjoy
yourself, Alaric.  You're only young once."
     He caught her amused look, and replied, "Youth is not all it's
cracked up to be, sir.  I can be of much more use here.  Unless you
order me, I'm *not* going out."
     Her eyes blazed as she said, "Fine.  You want to sit in here
and mope?  That's your business.  I don't intend to waste this
opportunity.  It will *never* come again, and I'll be damned if I
miss out just because of fear!"  She stalked out before he could
respond.
     "Charming woman," said Metzger.
     "You don't know the half of it," he said, wondering what he'd
done to deserve this.

***

     Elisa felt itchy inside her skin.  The five of them, she, the
three gargoyles and Major Kira, had been waiting in this hallway an
interminable time.  Docking procedures, Kira had muttered ten
minutes before.  It was all standard for letting ambassadors aboard
the station, and this particular ambassador was something special. 
He could possess the key to getting them home, or at least telling
them if they ever would.
     She glanced over to Goliath, who was barely keeping his own
impatience at bay.  The hallways hadn't been built for beings of
his stature, and although he did not have to crouch, the doorways
were treacherous and the bulkheads themselves pressed towards him. 
He was not a happy camper.
     She bit her lip.  She hadn't been helping matters much either,
she supposed.  She could reflect back on what had happened a little
more objectively now, and she felt ashamed of how she'd been acting
towards him.  He was her best friend, for crying out loud!  Besides
which, if they did get back to their own time, they would be on
this journey together for Avalon only knew how long.  And if they
*didn't* make it back, she wanted to have at least one friend in
this brave new world.
     "Goliath ... "  He looked up, something in his eyes that she
read as a mixture of hope and trepidation.  Then his gaze moved
past her to where the airlock was circling open.  Damn, she
thought, then turned around.
     Two young gargoyles in what appeared to be uniforms stepped
out of the airlock.  Both were about Brooklyn's height.  The taller
of the two, a male, was greenish and had a short beak.  The female
was shorter by maybe an inch, reddish-orange, with a humanoid face. 
Neither had any hair, and both had their wings cloaked around them
regally.
     The female's eyes locked on Goliath's as she said in a
distinctly British accent, "We are honoured to greet you, Goliath." 
Then she turned to Angela and bowed her head.  "We are likewise
honoured to greet *you*, Angela."
     The male turned to her.  "You are Elisa?"  She nodded and was
met with a wide smile from both gargoyles.  "We welcome you to our
time, Lady."
     "Thank you," she said, and felt idiotic for having nothing
better to say.
     "May we present the Ambassador?"  They both stepped out of the
way in perfect synchronism, and another gargoyle, an older male of
perhaps Hudson's age (if Hudson hadn't slept for a thousand years,
that is), came forward.  His hair was bone white around the scale-
like ridges down the back of his head and neck; his face, while not
scarred, showed the lines of hard wear indicating a long and not
entirely docile life, and it was a light blue-lavender to match his
strong hands.  His eyes were pale green, almost colorless, but they
were warm like the night air in May.
     He bowed deeply from the waist, his violet wings making an
elegant cape around him.  "I am called Jeffrey.  I cannot tell you
how great an honour it is to meet you."  The reverence in his voice
made her uncomfortable.  What would they do in their future to earn
this kind of respect?
     Goliath extended his arm.  "I am Goliath.  But I believe you
already knew that."  Ambassador Jeffrey took the arm gladly, as
Goliath stared for a moment at the other gargoyle's grasp.
     "That I did."  He turned to Angela, who automatically extended
her own arm, and took her hand gently in his own, placing his other
atop it as though she were a small child.  "You are more lovely
than the stories indicated."
     Angela shot a glance to Goliath.  "He's good."
     Jeffrey threw his head back and laughed.  "And every bit the
rascal, as well."  This brought a genuine smile to her lips that
lingered.
     Finally, he faced Elisa.  "Lady, you were the first human to
join our clan.  Let me assure you that you are regarded with the
highest esteem among my kind, and that your name is mentioned as a
blessing."  He held his palms out and open, and by instinct, she
placed her own hands on top.  He inclined his head towards her.
     Bronx whimpered, and Jeffrey looked down.  "And this must be
Bronx."  The watchdog's ears perked up.  Jeffrey leaned over, held
out his hand to be sniffed, then scratched the back of Bronx's
neck, which set his hind leg thumping against the floor.
     Major Kira, who had been standing by watching the proceedings
with well-concealed boredom, finally said, "Ambassador?"
     Jeffrey looked up.  "I'm sorry.  I must have gotten carried
away."  He again extended his hand, which she took.
     "Major Kira Nerys."
     "Ambassador Jeffrey of Wyvern.  My aides," he indicated with
a wave of his hand, "Ophelia and Hektor."  They nodded to her.
     "It's nice to meet you," she said.  "Captain Sisko was
detained or he would have come to greet you himself.  If you'll
follow me, I can show you to your quarters.  Most of the other
delegates have already arrived."  She led them down the hallway
with Bronx at her heels, Jeffrey and Goliath side by side, then
Angela and Elisa, with the two aides bringing up the rear.
     "As would we have had we not had such difficulty with our
ship."  He said to Goliath, "I have noticed that species with
natural flight capability rarely develop space travel.  Case in
point: our ships are merely redesigns of what we used to arrive on
Wyvern in the beginning."  He smirked.  "They're not exactly what
you would called the Federation's finest."
     Goliath said, "So you did come from Earth."
     Jeffrey nodded.  "Long ago, when Kali still led the clan."
     "Kali?"
     "She was after your time.  Perhaps I will tell you of her, and
in return, you might tell me of your adventures.  Our records of
your time are not complete."  He looked at Angela.  "In our
chronicle of your journey home from Avalon, there was no mention
whatsoever of coming to this space station."
     Elisa thought fast.  "So we will get home to tell the story."
     "You will.  Eventually.  Where was the last place you visited
on this trip?"
     "Scotland," said Goliath.
     Elisa hadn't even known that she was keeping her eyes open for
deceit until she felt herself relax as he said, "Which time?"  It
might not prove *conclusively* that this wasn't just some complex
game designed by Xanatos, but it made her more likely to believe.
     "We were at Loch Ness," Angela said, "saving Nessie from Dr.
Sevarius."  Her voice was bitter.
     Jeffrey chuckled.  "Good old Anton Sevarius.  From our
stories, he would have been more at home as the main character in
some science fiction horror spoof than as a geneticist."
     "Or perhaps the devil himself," she replied, but would say
nothing further.
     "What other stories do you have of us and our time?" asked
Elisa.  Might as well ask while the asking was good.
     "Many.  The time of the reawakening of the Six is one of the
most popular periods in our history.  The only gaps we have are due
to things our sources simply don't know.  Or won't tell us," he
added after a moment.
     "Like what?"
     "Some of the adventures that you had that *didn't* involve
Xanatos or the Pack.  Your interactions with Macbeth ... "  He
looked to Goliath.  "Macbeth *did* exist, didn't he?"  Goliath
nodded.  "Good.  Well, as I was saying, your interactions with him
are scarcely documented at all."
     A sudden thought struck her.  "Do you have any records of Owen
Burnett using the Phoenix Gate?"
     Goliath explained, "We've encountered someone who strongly
resembles him."
     Jeffrey shrugged, "Probably one of his descendants.  I'm sure
there are a few running around."  The casual tone to his voice was
forced; something wasn't right.
     "So you didn't keep records on Xanatos and his flunkies?"
     "After we left Earth, we had no way of watching the bloodlines
there, and when we joined the Federation, no one had any particular
desire to pick things up again."  Although she wasn't an expert on
gargoyle body language, she could see the sudden discomfort on all
three faces.  They weren't telling the whole truth, but what were
they hiding?
     "We're here," announced Kira.  The door slid open, and she
allowed them to go in before her.  Jeffrey (and how easy it was to
think of him as Jeffrey rather than the Ambassador) looked around
in approval.
     "I hope you find these quarters comfortable," she said.  "If
you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."
     "Of course," he said easily.  "And thank you."  She left them
alone.  He turned to Goliath again.  "Now we must get down to
business.  The Phoenix Gate."
     "Is gone."
     "I realize that.  Unfortunately, as far as we know, the Gate
has been lost for centuries, which means we can't send you back
without finding yours.  We *need* to get it back as soon as
possible.  If you do not return to your own time, we are all in
very deep trouble."
     "Why?"
     "I thought it was a bit obvious," he said.  He glanced at
Goliath's pale lavender, then at his own.  "I am your grandson, six
generations removed."  He looked to Angela.  "And yours by five. 
So you see, if you don't return home, my family will never exist,
and as Kali was of our family, this would have dire consequences
for all our clan."
     Elisa expected Goliath to say something about the importance
of the clan, maybe even express a desire to learn about this Kali
who appeared to be his descendant.  Instead, he was staring at
Angela, who had suddenly become very interested in the ceiling.
     "What?" was all he said.
     Jeffrey looked from Goliath to Angela and back again.  "You
mean you didn't know yet?"  His eyes went wide as he swore under
his breath.  He said to his assistants, "I *told* you they should
have assigned a different gargoyle to this conference."
     Elisa touched Angela's shoulder, and the young gargoyle looked
at her with sorrow in her eyes.  And knowledge.  "You already knew,
didn't you?"
     "Dr. Sevarius did some kind of test with my blood.  He thought
I was from a clan of gargoyles that protected Nessie and her
family.  He found out otherwise."
     "Why didn't you tell us?"
     "Because Goliath said that it wasn't the gargoyle way."  Her
shoulders were bent, and her voice was sad.
     Goliath said, "This is ridiculous.  Angela is not my daughter. 
Gargoyle children belong to the whole clan."
     "Umm ... " said Ophelia.  "Not anymore.  We have detailed
records of who belongs to whom, going back to your time.  It helps
keep the inbreeding down."
     Hektor added, "Since nobody had names before your generation,
we couldn't go back any further."
     "But that's neither here nor there right now," said Jeffrey
hurriedly.  "The point is, we need to get you home."
     "Agreed," said Goliath, ignoring the sudden pained expression
on Angela's face.
     They got down to business.  The three of them related