by John Peel
As she returned to her station, Garaia smiled to herself. This was certainly far more interesting than scanning rocks. And Tak seemed to have dragged the shreds of his personality together. Whatever happened now, he would be pleased. Their routine punishment mission had suddenly become something very important. If he handled it well, it would put him back in favor with the military.
And if he handled it badly, then he would die. Either result would probably suit him much better than commanding survey charting.
As they continued their approach, Garaia scanned and rescanned the ship, trying to eke out just a little more information. She didn't have very much luck, however. The vessel guarded its secrets well. As she couldn't penetrate its skin, she had no way of knowing whether they were approaching a floating cemetery or a mobile fortress. The uncertainty was wearing on her nerves, and she suspected that none of the crew was immune. Every now and then, Tak would start rapping his fingers nervously on his command-chair arm. Then he would catch himself and force himself to stop. Only to begin again a few moments later.
Then, finally, there was a change. "Captain!" she called, urgently. "The sensors register the opening of the main portal in the craft."
Tak glanced at the screen. "I see nothing."
Fool! she thought. The prow of the craft was a hundred miles across. One small portal a mere two hundred feet across wouldn't be visible at this distance. "I'm registering smaller craft emerging," she announced. "Twelve of them, in a very loose formation." She tried bouncing a sensor beam past the craft and through the airlock, but it dissipated rapidly. Then the portal irised closed again. Damn! Still, now she had something other than the main ship to play with. She turned the sensors onto the smaller craft. "Each is approximately eighty feet long," she called out. "They're a lot more fragile than the main ship, and—Captain, each vessel is armed. I'm reading energy weapons powering up."
"Sound alert," Tak ordered, his eyes dancing with joy. He was in his element now. "Raise shields. Power the weapons systems."
The weaponry officer moved swiftly to obey. Garaia frowned. She understood the need for this move, and she had no qualms about combat but she hated to see the loss of research material.
"Any response on our hail yet?" Tak demanded.
"No reply at al Captain," the communications officer called back. "I'm running it again, with greater variation in frequencies and—Captain, incoming signal, audio only."
"That's better," Tak said with satisfaction. "Put it on the speakers."
There was a second or two of noise while the translation computer hooked into the signal and scanned it. Then the noise cleared into words.
"Approaching craft, identify yourself and your purpose."
Tak scowled. "This is the Cardassian vessel Vendikar," he answered. "Identify yourself."
"We are the Hive." The voice was neutral, without any apparent emotion.
"You are entering Cardassian space," Tak said bluntly. "You will not do this without permission. Bring your ship to a halt and prepare to meet us."
There was a slight pause. "Unacceptable," the voice finally replied. "We will continue our journey. You will not attempt to interfere."
Sitting up straighter in his chair, Tak snapped, "You will not be allowed to enter Cardassian space. Halt your vessel now, or else we shall be compelled to use force."
"This contact is terminated," the voice commented coldly. The carrier went dead.
Garaia scowled. "How do you propose to stop that craft?" she demanded. "We could detonate every weapon aboard our ship and still not even dent its hull."
"They do not know that we are alone," Tak told her. "They will not risk beginning a conflict without further information. All we have to do is to hold them off until reinforcements arrive."
Garaia was about to dispute that assertion, but was saved the trouble.
"Incoming vessel," the navigator announced. "They have powered up their weapons for the attack."
"Ready response," Tak ordered, eagerly. He looked like a wild beast who had just been set free from his cage and smelled a victim ahead. "Steady all weapons."
Garaia watched as two of the small craft came spinning toward them. She kept a sensor lock on them, waiting to see what kind of weapons they would be using. They were both much smaller than the Vendikar, and probably less well armed and armored. This attack was both unprovoked and foolish. There was no way at all that it could succeed.
She died with that last thought on her mind. The two ships whipped past the Vendikar on opposite sides. There was no sign of any energy discharge, no sign of any weapons system being used.
As their pass was completed, however, all that was left of the science vessel were tiny shards of metal and plastics, and smaller pieces of flesh that spread out in ever-widening circles, all that marked where the Vendikar had been annihilated.
CHAPTER 4
"THE OPERATION WAS a complete success!"
Hivemaster Dron glanced up sharply from his position at the conference table. He shuffled his report comp rather ostentatiously until Hivemaster Pakat subsided.
Pakat cast his eyes down to the floor. "I am sorry for my overt enthusiasm," he said quietly.
"It is good." Dron allowed a small smile to creep across his face. "And it is, in part, at least understandable. Your fledgling force has done very well. But we shall hear your report at the correct time. If you please." He gestured to one of the two empty seats at the table. Pakat, still humbled, sat beside his thirteen other colleagues.
Now that he had complete attention—as he always demanded—Dron could begin the meeting that he had called. He nodded to the person on his right. "You may commence recording." Every deliberation had to be kept for posterity. After all, they were at the most crucial point in the history of the Hive, and Dron had every intention of being recalled by future generations as a great visionary and savior of his people. "I see that we have one member missing." He pretended to think for a moment "Ah, yes, our junior colleague, Tork."
"He sends his apologies, Grand Master," explained Boran, two seats to Dron's left. "He is currently with a medic."
"Nothing serious, I trust?" Dron had plans for the young rebel, and he didn't want them ruined by an untimely sickness, or—worse—death.
Boran cleared his throat. "I understand he was looking at the, uh, stars and was taken ill."
There was a murmur of surprise and irritation around the table, which Dron cut off with a wave of his hand. "I am sure Tork must have had a good reason for his actions. When he recovers, he will undoubtedly explain." Privately, Dron already had a good idea what had happened, but there was no need to go on the record with that. "So—to the point of this meeting." He looked slowly at the expectant faces around the conference table. "As I am sure you are all quite aware, we have now entered our target galaxy. The Crossing is complete, and we can now commence the next phase in the Great Design." He waited a moment for this to sink in, to see that there were no untoward displays of emotion. Though several attendees looked almost ready to burst with pride and joy, they wisely suppressed any outbursts. Nodding his satisfaction, Dron turned to Premon. "Hivemaster Premon, how has the Hive borne up under the journey?"
Premon was something of a fatuous fool, but he ran a tight department. His engineers were in charge of the structure and operation of the Hive. "As you know," he began, "for the past several months my engineers and I have been going through the Hive with the greatest of attention to even the smallest details. We have checked out all of the primary, secondary, and tertiary systems." He permitted himself a slight smile. "And in many cases, even the functioning of children's toys." He patted his report comp. "The statistics and results are all compiled here, and will be duly fed into the official archives. To avoid boring you with the facts and figures, though, I can summarize our findings quite simply. The Hive is in far better shape than even the First Hive Founders could have predicted. Our people have taken good care of our world, and we have survived the Crossing r
emarkably well. There are, of course, some repairs that need to be undertaken—but remarkably few, and none at all in any critical systems."
Dron cut him off before he could keep his almost endless flow of prattle going. "It seems that every member of the Hive owes you and your staff a tremendous vote of thanks, Premon. You have managed no small miracle." Dron addressed the meeting at large. "I move that we register a strong message of approval for the marvelous work that the engineers have done—both in our generation and in all previous ones. Agreed?" There was, of course, a chorus of approval. "Excellent." Dron turned back to face Premon again. "So, we are in good shape for the next phase of the Great Design?"
"We are in excellent shape," Premon replied, preening himself happily.
It was remarkable how little it took to please some people.
Dron sighed mentally; a few words of praise, and Premon was ecstatic. Ah, well, perhaps it would keep him silent for the rest of the meeting for once. "Commendable." Dron turned to Boran, the head of Industry. "Your report, Hivemaster Boran?"
"My departments are all ready," he replied. "As soon as the raw materials become available, then we can commence the next phase."
"Good." Dron faced Makarn. "And what of your department, Hivemaster Makarn?"
Makarn cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed. He hated to be dragged away from his work for these meetings, and was obviously looking forward to the end of it so he could scuttle back. "Science is mobilized," he answered. "We are, ah, working triple shifts at present to, ah, analyze all details." He gestured to his comp. "All the details are here, and will be, ah, fed into the report. Summarizing, though, we have already discovered one, ah, target world that appears perfect for our requirements." Tapping the controls before him, he called up a holographic projection of the area of space they had entered. Several dozen stars showed up, and Makarn zoomed in on one. This resolved into another picture showing the yellowish star and six orbiting planets. "The fourth world of this system has all that we require for the next phase."
"And how long will it take us to reach it?" Dron asked patiently.
"The course corrections have already been fed into the guidance systems," Makarn answered. "The computers indicate that we shall reach the target world in three days." He coughed. "Ah, of course our smaller vessels will be able to make a better determination within two."
"Thank you." Dron had already known these facts—and approved the course change—before the meeting had begun. The gathering wasn't to inform him but the other Hivemasters and posterity. "Pakat, it is your turn now."
Pakat nodded, barely able to contain his excitement. "As we entered this star system, we were challenged and then attacked by a warship from a local race. They called themselves 'Cardassians.' Despite this unprovoked attack, our warriors were able to defend themselves and annihilated the aggressor. If this is symptomatic of the reception we will get, then clearly the local species are warlike, aggressive—and no match at all for our technology."
Dron was more than happy to let him brag about his department's success. It established in the record that they were not the aggressors. Not that it mattered, but Dron did like the slight moral edge it would give him. He had already altered the records of the transmission from the Cardassian ship to agree with Pakat's propaganda. "And our pilots suffered no ill effects?"
"None at all," Pakat said happily. "They functioned perfectly."
"Forgive me." This was Hivemaster Hosir. He was the oldest among them, almost twice Dron's age, and the only member of the Masters whose motives and responses Dron couldn't predict with any certainty. "I do not quite understand this. Are you telling us that several of your young pilots flew an attack mission outside of the Hive and came back utterly unaffected by their experience? While one of our own exalted members"—he gestured at Tork's empty seat—"couldn't even look at the stars without becoming very ill?"
"Yes," replied Pakat eagerly. "You see, the pilots in my craft never actually looked into space. With the help of my colleague Boran, we simply manufactured fighter craft without any external portals. All of the piloting was done by the crew using computer simulations. And it worked perfectly. To all intents and purposes, the pilots were simply undergoing another training exercise within the Hive."
Hosir nodded. "I see. Pardon my question."
"There is no need to excuse asking a perfectly sensible question," Dron said. If he hadn't asked it, Dron would have been forced to do so. He had wanted their rather tidy solution to the problem on record. "I feel certain that we are all pleased with the resolution that Pakat and Boran have found to overcome exposure to open space." There was, of course, a murmur of assent at this. "Be it so noted," he commanded. "Now, if there are no further matters, this meeting is adjourned." Naturally, no one raised any objection to this.
As the Hivemasters filed out to return to their duty, Hosir made his weary way across to Dron. "My compliments on resolving the agoraphobia issue." Not expecting a reply, he then limped from the conference room. In a matter of minutes, only Pakat and Raldar remained behind. Raldar had contributed nothing overtly to the meeting, but he was not expected to. He was Dron's strong right hand, and in charge of security for the Hive.
"Off the record, now," Dron said quietly, "I am very pleased with your results, Pakat. The weaponry and pilots performed flawlessly. Training will be accelerated, of course, since we now have a target world. Everyone must be prepared."
"Of course," agreed Pakat. With a happy smile and a low, deferential bow, he left the room.
"A very capable officer," Raldar commented.
"Very," agreed Dron. "His work is progressing the Great Design. Now, to other matters. What is this about Tork being hospitalized? Has it to do with a female?"
The security officer smiled. "Naturally. Youngsters are often driven to foolish acts when trying to impress a potential mate. But I am assured that he will be released shortly, without permanent damage. He looked out at the stars."
Dron frowned. "And why did he attempt such a foolish thing? Merely to impress a female? It does not sound like Tork. He is normally rather levelheaded—if obstinate and filled with misplaced enthusiasm."
"Ah." Raldar smiled again. "The particular female he sought to impress is most likely to be Determined an astronomer."
"Oh, I see." Dron chuckled. That was interesting. "He is serious about this female, then?"
"Yes. She has not yet passed Determination, so he can't do anything overt, of course."
Dron nodded. "And Tork is far too high-minded to consider an illicit relationship, even though he knows he could get away with it."
Raldar inclined his head. "He likes to think of himself as incorruptible."
"I'm sure he does." The Grand Master considered for a moment. "Then I think it's time we corrupted him, don't you? I believe that this female's Determination is definitely due. And I have a strong suspicion that she'll be designated an astronomer. See to it that she is then assigned to Team Two." He smiled. I'm certain that Tork will hear about this very quickly and want to change her assignment."
Nodding his understanding, Raldar said, "And he will request that her Determination be changed. . . ."
"Precisely. I, of course, will insure that it is, so that he and his female can be One." Dron chuckled again. "And that first, small corruption will begin his descent, Raldar. And the second step … What about that loudmouthed, rebellious friend of his?"
"Harl?" Raldar spread his hands. "He's as noxious as ever, claiming that the Hivemasters must be overthrown—preferably with a lot of our internal organs decorating the walls and floors." The security officer frowned. "He could be dangerous. We should execute him."
Dron shook his head. "He could be useful. Besides, executing a child would not be good for morale. Until he has passed his Determination, we can do nothing to him. I would therefore suggest he also be given a speedy Determination. And after that …" He looked up at Raldar. "Could one of your agents convince him to perform some sma
ll but nasty act of sabotage? Preferably one with a small loss of life? Say, a child or two?"
"Convince him?" Raldar gave a sharp bark. "I doubt he'll need much persuading. He's ready to do almost anything at the moment. He is doubly frustrated since Tork was made a Hivemaster."
"As I suspected he would be." Dron considered the matter for a moment. "See that this happens, and then arrest him. We shall be forced to stage a trial at the next Hive Meeting. I think it would be interesting to have Tork's name chosen by accident to conduct the investigation, don't you?"
"You mean him to have to beg for the life of his friend?" asked Raldar thoughtfully.
"Either that, or force him to condemn his friend to death." Dron shrugged. "Either way, we shall have our solution. If he condemns his friend, then Tork will feel guilty and he'll be easier to manipulate. If he spares Harl, his morals will be compromised, and we shall have him. In a short while, he will be with us in all things." He stood up, and collected his comp. "And at this momentous point in the Great Design, it is vital that we be unanimous in our resolve. The future of our species is at stake. We must seize the opportunity we are offered. We must fully exploit the target world to insure the survival of the Hive.
CHAPTER 5
SISKO SIDESTEPPED THE truck filled with spare parts, managing to slide onto the bridge of the Defiant. He stopped, aghast at the mess that met his eyes. Most of the panels had been removed, and it looked as though amidget with an axe and a bad temper had attacked every system in the room. Wiring, connectors, chip sheets, crystals, and circuit boards lay in total disarray.
He could only hope that it looked like something very different to Chief O'Brien.