Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Ascendance

by David R. George III

  “Deactivate your tractor beam now!” the Fire demanded.

  Raiq reached to the control that would free the metaweapon. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the console. She felt the significance not just of her own lifetime spent on the Quest, but that of uncounted generations past.

  “You will do as I order. I am the Fire.”

  “No,” Raiq said, the word barely more than a whisper. She expected an eruption of anger, but heard only the whine of the tractor beam.

  And then the cabin quieted. Raiq checked her scans and saw that the metaweapon had been shut down. The torpedo remained motionless, fixed between her tractor beam and that of the Grand Archquester’s vessel.

  For a moment, only the faint hiss of background radiation on the open channel intruded into the silence. Then the Fire said, “Raiq, you must release the metaweapon.” She spoke slowly, but with unmistakable authority.

  “With respect, Fire, I am reluctant to do as you request,” Raiq said. “Our people require the subspace weapon so that we can burn before the Unnameable, and in that way, merge with them.”

  “The Unnameable do not need assistance to burn their faithful, nor to join with them,” the Fire said. “What they require of us is that we perform one last sacrament, that we make one last offering to them, before they allow us to make the Final Ascension.”

  That makes sense, Raiq thought. It sounds right. But so did her own perspective.

  Unsure why she had become so convinced of her position, Raiq decided to seek clarity. “May I speak with Grand Archquester Votiq?”

  “No, you—” the Fire began, but then she hesitated for the first time that Raiq had ever heard. “That is no longer possible.”

  Alone in the cockpit of her vessel, Raiq flinched. She had not necessarily expected the Fire to permit her to speak with Votiq, but the finality of the words troubled her. She wanted to ask questions, but felt that she didn’t dare. A stillness settled around her, but she found no calm in it.

  Eventually, the Fire said, “The Grand Archquester perished inside the Fortress of the True.”

  Votiq, dead? The idea rattled her to the core. For more than half a century, for a large portion of Raiq’s life, Votiq had led the Ascendants in the Quest. He provided strength, leadership, and direction, but perhaps more than that, he offered the remaining population of knights a touchstone—to each other, to the interpretation of the sacred texts, and to generations past. He bridged the gulf between what had been and what could be. He helped illuminate the darkness and drive Questers and Archquesters ever onward.

  “We should not mourn the Grand Archquester,” said the Fire, as though grieving came naturally to the Ascendants. “He died where he always hoped he would. Now we must do what is necessary to ensure a similar fate for all of us.”

  Had the Fire just implied that the Unnameable had taken Votiq during their journey through the Fortress? She thought that she had, and she wanted to believe her, but she had to admit the truth of her uncertainty. The notion that the Fire had killed the Grand Archquester in order to abscond with the metaweapon seemed shocking, even ­melodramatic—but not necessarily untrue.

  “As required by holy writ,” Raiq said carefully, “I will notify all of the knights about the loss of Votiq.” Her own audacity terrified her; the sacred texts contained no such fiat, though such an action plainly made sense. Once Seltiq, the eldest Ascendant after Votiq, learned of the Grand Archquester’s death, she would by law take over that position.

  Raiq expected the Fire to challenge her on her claim of scriptural imperative, but she didn’t. “Very well.” Raiq didn’t know if she felt more surprised by the Fire’s words or the note of resignation in her voice, but both called her identity into question.

  “I will speak with the new Grand Archquester,” Raiq said, “and I will seek her guidance.”

  Once more, she expected the Fire to fly into a rage, to rebuke her for brazenly disobeying her wishes. Instead, she only said, “Be quick about it.”

  “Yes, Fire,” Raiq said, and she ended the transmission. She then opened a channel to the entire Ascendant fleet, which she saw on sensors had just begun to arrive at Bajor. She would do as she’d told the Fire she would, informing her people of the loss of Votiq, and then speaking with his successor.

  Never had Raiq’s doubts been stronger.

  * * *

  Benjamin Sisko stood inside a dimly lighted observation lounge, looking out through one-way glass. The primary operations chamber of the Musilla Consolidated Space Center sprawled away from him on the other side of the port. Scores of Bajoran Militia officers staffed the extensive complex, most of them seated at banks of consoles arranged before walls of viewscreens.

  Sisko knew that the Musilla CSC oversaw the spaceborne traffic around Bajor. Personnel there coordinated launches and orbital insertions, departures and arrivals. They also served to monitor external threats to the planet, with control over weapons platforms and ground-based defenses, and links to Militia spacecraft.

  Interspersed with numerous smaller displays, a triad of large screens dominated the convex, three-sided front wall. Sisko saw views of defensive emplacements from around the globe, facilities that housed powerful phaser emitters designed to reach belligerents in orbit. He also spotted installations that supported, launched, and landed Militia vessels. Mostly, though, he studied scenes from space, images captured by monitors on weapons platforms and Bajoran ships. One of the larger viewscreens showed a terribly disconcerting sight: a massive array of vessels on approach to Bajor. The display conjured up Sisko’s time in the Dominion War battling fleets comprising Jem’Hadar, Cardassian, and Breen forces. He shuddered at the thought of the Federation facing another conflict like that, particularly one that imperiled Bajor.

  Sisko had come to Musilla from his home in Kendra Province after Kira Nerys had contacted him, not as her friend, nor even as her former commanding officer aboard Deep Space 9, but as the Emissary of the Prophets. During the time they’d served together on the station, Kira had recognized the importance of the role Sisko played in her religion, but she had also done well to respect his privacy. Rarely did she call upon him as the Emissary, and so he took her doing so that day very seriously—despite that, in the fifteen months since his return from the Celestial Temple, he’d felt disconnected from the Prophets.

  Sisko’s erstwhile first officer had wanted to inform him about the large fleet of vessels coming through the wormhole and heading for Bajor. Under normal circumstances, he likely would have taken no action. Kira knew her job as a Starfleet captain and how to run the station, and she had a good crew. Sisko also did not want to intrude on the responsibilities of First Minister Asarem and Kai Pralon. But Kira had chosen to get in touch with him because of the nature of the approaching force: a race of violent religious extremists.

  At Kira’s request, Sisko had spoken with the first minister, offering his assistance if needed. Asarem asked him to transport out to Musilla Province, to the city of Ilveth, home to the planet’s Consolidated Space Center. One of the first minister’s aides, Enkar Sirsy, escorted him to a conference room, where he met with Asarem and a delegation of Eav’oq from Idran IV. The first minister detailed for Sisko what little information the Bajorans and Starfleet possessed about the Ascendants. An Eav’oq named Itu then described what his people knew of them, corroborating the description of them as zealots bent on exterminating those who dared either to worship the Ascendant gods, or to venerate other deities.

  Afterward, Asarem had gone to the Space Center’s operations chamber. Sisko, wanting to avoid overstepping his bounds by accompanying the first minister there, followed Enkar to an observation lounge. The Eav’oq, declaring their aversion to violence, remained in the conference room, declining to witness whatever defensive measures the Bajorans might take.

  Sisko watched as Militia personnel in the operations chamber monitored and responded to the encroachment of the Ascendant ships. On one of the large main displays, he
saw a Bajoran weapons platform fire its phaser bank at a purplish red, knifelike vessel that trailed a torpedo behind it. The ship looked as though it had established itself in orbit. The phaser beam appeared to have no effect on the ship, which did not retreat from the attack, or respond in any observable way. Sisko waited for what would happen next, dreading an all-out assault on Bajor when the entire Ascendant fleet arrived.

  On another of the large displays, Sisko saw several Bajoran assault vessels headed toward the Ascendant ship in orbit. At the same time, on a smaller screen, the image of Ezri Dax appeared. The lieutenant conversed briefly with Asarem, who then quickly stalked in Sisko’s direction. The door to the observation lounge glided open, and the first minister strode inside.

  “Mister Sisko,” she said, forsaking both of his titles—Captain and Emissary—as he’d requested of her months prior, not long after he’d returned from the Celestial Temple. “We’ve just heard from Lieutenant Dax on Deep Space Nine with updated information. She says that Captain Kira will be contacting you shortly. She also tells us that the Jem’Hadar observer has come back to the Alpha Quadrant. He claims that the Ascendants are being led by Iliana Ghemor, and that their fleet is carrying a subspace weapon.”

  The news could not have been worse. When last heard from, perhaps a year earlier, Ghemor had been pursuing a personal vendetta against Kira, showing no compunction against harming or even killing anybody who stood in her way. If she deployed a subspace weapon on or near Bajor, it could do considerable damage to the planet, and the resultant deaths could number in the millions, or even in the tens of millions.

  Or even worse than that, Sisko thought. He remembered a gruesome tale that he’d first heard at Starfleet Academy, and which he’d later confirmed when he’d served as a junior officer at the Federation embassy on Romulus. Nearly a century prior, a species adversarial to the Empire had detonated an isolytic subspace weapon in proximity to the Romulan world of Algeron III. The explosion caused the underlying structure of space to tear, and when power sources on the planet attracted one end of the growing fissure, catastrophe followed. Algeron III had been shredded, costing the lives of its more than seven hundred million inhabitants.

  “Obviously, they have to be stopped,” Sisko said. “They can’t be allowed to employ such a weapon.”

  Asarem nodded, but she wore a grave expression. “The problem is that Deep Space Nine reports the Ascendant ships have powerful shields, and it’s unclear if Militia weapons can stop them,” she said. “The two closest Starfleet vessels are on their way to Bajor, but they won’t arrive for at least a day.”

  Before Sisko could ask about Defiant, a tone sounded, followed by the soft voice of a computer interface. “Incoming transmission for Asarem Wadeen.”

  The first minister crossed the lounge to a companel in the far wall. She activated the device with a touch, and Kira’s face appeared on the display. Sisko noted at once that she was no longer on DS9, but aboard a runabout. “First Minister, this is Captain Kira.”

  “I’m here, Captain,” Asarem said. “And I’m with Mister Sisko.”

  “Then Lieutenant Dax has updated you about the situation?”

  “She has,” Asarem said. “What is your status?”

  “Since we’ve confirmed that there are no more Ascendant vessels approaching the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant, I’m on my way to Bajor aboard the Yolja,” Kira said. “Taran’atar is ahead of me in a civilian vessel. He is also in pursuit of Iliana Ghemor. Meanwhile, Commander Vaughn has taken the Defiant to the edge of the system so the ship can go to warp and reach the leading edge of the Ascendant fleet as quickly as possible. He should arrive before long.”

  “And you’ve had no contact with any of the Ascendants?” Asarem asked.

  “No,” Kira confirmed. “They have refused to reply to any of our hails.”

  “They are not responding to messages from Bajor either,” Asarem said. “At this juncture, Overgeneral Manos believes we have no choice but to defend ourselves.” Manos Treo, Sisko knew, served as the commandant of the Bajoran Militia, reporting directly to the Minister of Defense, Aland Novor. “We have opened fire on the lead ship from a weapons platform, and a squadron of our assault vessels is closing.”

  “I’m not sure how effective your weapons will be,” Kira said.

  “Have you any other recommendations, Captain?” the first minister asked, her voice tightly controlled.

  “I might,” Kira said. “That’s why I wanted to speak with the Emissary.”

  “I’m here, Captain,” Sisko said. Again, he noted Kira’s use of his religious title. Since departing the Celestial Temple and returning to Bajor, Sisko’s relationship with DS9’s commanding officer had been conducted almost completely on a personal level. They usually addressed each other by their given names.

  “Emissary, I’ve been weighing our options, trying to determine the best course of action to face down the Ascendants and Iliana Ghemor,” Kira said. “I feel . . .” She looked away for a moment and off to the side, as though attempting to gather her thoughts. “I feel that some great plan of the Prophets is unfolding.”

  “A plan?” Sisko believed that, during his sojourn in the Celestial Temple, he had come to comprehend, at least to some degree, the minds of the Prophets. He even thought that he might have contributed to their understanding of humanoid existence. But his memories of those experiences had faded with time, and although he had been left with the feeling that the Prophets watched over Bajor, and even set certain events in motion, he had also come to recognize that their guardianship took place at an extremely high and distant level. Where once he’d trusted that he might one day fully fathom the intricate tapestry they had woven for the Bajorans, he had subsequently abandoned any such hope.

  “If not a plan, then something that They have . . . something that They have foreseen .” Kira said, clearly trying to find the right words to voice her thoughts. “I feel like something important is going to happen, and They’ve set the proper participants in place: you are Their Emissary, They called me Their Hand and Ghemor the Fire. In whatever is about to happen, it seems like there’s a role to be played by the Ascendants, who are vicious religious fanatics. Even Taran’atar’s reappearance feels . . . portentous.”

  Sisko empathized with Kira’s presentiment. He knew well what that felt like: to have a strong sense of foreboding, mixed with the instinct that a full understanding of events lingered just beyond the ability to clarify. His exposure to the Prophets had brought him many such moments—though none in recent times.

  And yet Sisko didn’t hesitate to respond to Kira. He had his own intuition about the situation, about the actions required to provide Bajor the best chance for survival. His ideas derived not from some mystical connection with the Prophets, though, but from his long experience as a Starfleet officer and leader. “Captain, you need to speak directly with Iliana Ghemor,” he said. “You need to get and keep her attention, to distract her. Itu, one of the Eav’oq, has volunteered his help, and so I think he should communicate with the Ascendant fleet for the same reason. We need to delay the use of their subspace ordnance, in order to allow the Defiant time to sweep around to the forward edge of the Ascendant ships so that Commander Vaughn and his crew can locate and destroy—or at least secure—the subspace weapon.”

  Sisko looked to the first minister. She offered no objections, and Kira acknowledged the new tactic before signing off. Past Asarem, through the port, rapid movement caught Sisko’s attention. He looked to one of the large viewscreens, which showed Bajoran vessels opening fire on the lead Ascendant ship.

  The first minister must have read the expression on Sisko’s face, because she spun toward the glass wall that looked out on the operations chamber. She observed for only a few seconds before she turned back around. “Accompany me, Mister Sisko,” she said, the tone of command in her voice unambiguous. Although he in no way served under her authority, he did not object. Instead, as Asarem strode quickly from th
e room, Sisko fell in behind her.

  * * *

  Kira informed Vaughn of the plan—at least to the extent that it could even be called a plan. The captain believed Taran’atar’s report of Iliana Ghemor’s return, and of the existence in the Ascendant fleet of a subspace weapon, but Starfleet and Bajoran forces knew nothing definitively about the location of either. It seemed reasonable to think that the Cardassian could be traveling in the lead ship, and that the torpedo it hauled could be carrying the metaweapon, but such suppositions could also turn out to be incorrect.

  After speaking with Vaughn, Kira worked Yolja’s main console to broadcast on all hailing frequencies. Only minutes separated Defiant from a rendezvous above Bajor with the forward edge of the Ascendant fleet, so she needed to delay Iliana Ghemor for only a short period. The captain did not necessarily expect the gambit to work, but considering the circumstances, she could think of no better strategy than to heed the advice of the Emissary.

  “Kira Nerys to Iliana Ghemor.” She waited, unsurprised as the seconds stretched out and her hail went unanswered. She tried a second time and met with the same result. “Come on,” she said under her breath, and then offered up a couple of choice Bajoran epithets. Kira rarely swore, but when she did at that moment, she visualized bellowing the words directly at Ghemor.

  Which would be like screaming into my own face, she realized. Still, the notion of confronting the Cardassian madwoman appealed to her. Previously, Kira thought that the Prophets had contended with Ghemor either by imprisoning her or by sending her away somewhere—or possibly even by ending her miserably unhappy life, an act that could have been considered a kindness. But if the former Obsidian Order operative had found her way back to Bajor, then it likely meant that she had come seeking her revenge.

  Maybe I can use that against her, Kira thought. She worked her controls and leaned toward the runabout’s main console. “Kira Nerys to Iliana Ghemor,” she said again. “The Prophets might have released you, but they clearly didn’t give you back your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be back here so desperately looking to fulfill your vendetta against me.”