by John Peel
Dron blinked mildly. "Dear me," he murmured. "She sounds like a very excitable person. I do hope you can rely on her."
"I know I can." Sisko smiled without warmth. "And it's her home planet that you're talking about destroying next. I think she has every right to be excitable. Now, did you mention refreshments?"
Shakaar switched off his screen, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Then he sat back in his chair, almost too numb to feel anything. Nerys had delivered what virtually amounted to a death warrant for Bajor just moments ago. Shakaar knew that he should be feverishly working on defense plans, evacuation plans, and the Prophets knew, maybe a dozen other plans, too. But for the moment, it all seemed utterly futile.
At this moment, there were thousands of refugees from Darane IV either here on the planet or else on Deep Space Nine, all seeking to regain some semblance of life. They had fled one destroyed world, and were now, apparently, sitting on another doomed world. Along with several billion other Bajorans.
And they were all his responsibility. Shakaar was their first minister, and it was up to him to cope with this overwhelming situation. But there was, practically speaking, nothing much he could do. Oh, the aliens had offered Bajor a week—a week!—to evacuate the population. Aside from the fact that the logistics of such an exodus were impossible even in tenfold the time, it really wasn't a viable option anyway.
Shakaar knew that the majority of the population would refuse to leave their homes, no matter what odds were against them. That left him exactly one option—to fight. But Bajor had never concentrated on arming itself again. In the resistance war with the Cardassian occupiers, the Bajorans had used light weaponry. They had nothing else. Now, three years after the occupation was ended, they still had very little in terms of planetary defenses. They had concentrated on rebuilding their wrecked world and shattered economy, not on preparing for war. They had all looked to their Federation alliance for aid in that quarter.
Aid that would now not be coming in time.
Shakaar knew that Captain Sisko and his associates would do everything in their power to defend Bajor, but, frankly, it was nowhere near enough against this alien Hive. The recent destruction of the Enterprise had left a large gap in the Federation coverage of this sector, and it would take too long for replacement vessels to arrive that might have the firepower to take on the Hive.
When the Hive came hunting for Bajor, everything that Deep Space Nine and the ground defenses of Bajor could throw at it would barely slow it down. Visions of the destruction of Darane filled his head. That would be the fate of Bajor. The Bajor he'd pledged to govern and protect to the best of his ability.
Dammit, he thought, it just isn't fair! Why was the fate of his world and his entire people now resting so heavily on his shoulders? What could he be expected to do? What was it that the Prophets required of him?
"Shakaar."
His head jerked up as he was startled out of his troubling thoughts. For a second, he thought he'd imagined the voice, but then there was a movement in the shadows at the end of his office, and a robed figure emerged.
"Kai Winn!" he exclaimed in surprise. "How did you get in here? I gave explicit orders that I was not to be disturbed."
With the regal serenity that Shakaar was certain she practiced in front of mirrors when alone, Kai Winn glided across the room. She inclined her head slightly. "I am sure that you did, my child," she murmured, oozing sympathy and understanding. She could fake them very well, Shakaar knew. "But you are already disturbed, are you not? By your thoughts."
"How did you get in here?" he repeated, standing up and glaring down at her. He resented her patronizing attitude, and had never accepted her in the role of Kai—spiritual leader of all Bajor. She was perhaps one of the least spiritual people he'd ever met in his life. All she cared about was her own power.
"There are ways known only to the Prophets, my child," she finally answered evasively.
"And secret passages known only to the religious orders, I'll warrant," Shakaar snapped. "Well, you're here now, so say your piece before I have you escorted out—oh, very respectfully, of course."
Winn smiled serenely. "Of course," she agreed. "I did not think for an instant you would show the Kai less respect than she deserves. But I came to discuss your needs, and the needs of Bajor at this troubled time."
"What do you know of this troubled time?" he asked her.
"Only what the Prophets have seen fit to show me," Winn answered. Her hands appeared from the arms of her ornamental robes. One held a small scroll. "I have been studying the Third Prophecy of Andaki, and it is obviously about the crisis in which we find ourselves."
"With all due respect to the Prophets—" began Shakaar, but she cut him off with a gesture.
"Yes. Let us all show due respect to the Prophets." She glared mildly at him. "I understand your anger and frustration, my child, but this is very relevant. Listen." She unraveled the scroll and began to read from it:
"The land will be torn asunder as great wings hover.
Death will be on all who witness, and mourning on the
lips of the few who survive.
Weep for the lost, the children, the land. Weep, for it
and they are no more.
In that terrible day shall all my people be one.
Stand firm, for one shall protect you, and two shall convert.
In their faith, Bajor will be made whole."
She let the scroll roll up again, and slipped it back inside her voluminous sleeves. "Surely, my child, you can see what at least a part of this means?"
Shakaar considered himself as devout as the next person, but he knew that the Prophets always spoke in riddles. Many of the Prophecies were couched in obscure terms and subject to any number of interpretations. "The Third Book of Andaki is notoriously used by many unscrupulous and misguided individuals to predict the end of the world as we know it," he said. "I am surprised that you have joined their number, Kai Winn."
She didn't let the accusation annoy her. "It is so used by people who lack true insight," she answered calmly. "But to those that the Prophets have anointed, the book reveals many mysteries. Besides"—she allowed a fleeting smile. to cross her face—"I can hardly be called misguided if I see the end of Bajor in the current situation, can I? After all, the Hive will be heading here next, I believe. And that will surely presage the end of the world if we do not act wisely."
"How did you hear about that?" he demanded. Someone must have informed her, despite his order for absolute secrecy.
"How I know is not important," she said. "What we are to do, however, is vital. Surely you can see that the first stanza refers to the destruction of Darane Four? That needs no interpretation, my child. The second stanza, however, is more difficult. One shall protect you, and two shall convert."
Shakaar regarded her suspiciously. "Even if I grant that the first stanza may be about Darane, I don't see what the second means at all."
"Of course you do not, my child." Winn spread her arms and smiled. "That is why I am here. If I cannot understand the Prophets correctly, who can?"
My pet draka could understand the Prophets better than you, thought Shakaar, but he was not foolish enough to say it aloud. Winn was cunning, and she clearly had something in mind for this meeting. "And what is your interpretation?" he asked.
"The one who stands firm is obviously myself," she replied seriously. "I stand firm as I always have in the faith of the Prophets. The two who shall convert …" She gave him a pitying gaze. "You are, I am afraid, one of those. Your lack of piety and trust in the Prophets is hardly secret, is it?"
"I do my duty by the Prophets," Shakaar snapped. "No one can say otherwise."
Winn shook her head chidingly. "None of us do all of our duty, my child. Even I sometimes fall short of what is expected of me. But we must all strive harder to obey the will of the Prophets."
"I don't see that your prophecy gives me anything to even consider," he replied, irritat
ed at her fake piety. "And you still haven't told me who the second person is who must convert."
"The answer to both is tied to the other," Kai Winn informed him. "You alone, commanding the government, could never hope to stand against these murderous alien predators. If you stand with me, and the religious forces who follow me, then there is a better chance. To win the forthcoming battle, though, you will need further aid."
"From whom?" growled Shakaar. "The Federation cannot reach us, and the Cardassians would never agree to help. They have a Hive of their own to contend with. There is nobody else who can help."
"Oh?" asked a fresh voice. "I'm sorry to hear that I have been forgotten so quickly."
Shakaar spun about. He was going to tear this room apart to find that secret entrance when Winn was gone. Now, who could …?
He stopped cold, staring at the tall, saturnine man who had stepped out of the shadows. "Jaro," he breathed.
Jaro's face broke into a smile. "It's good to see that I haven't been forgotten during my absence," he murmured, moving closer to the Kai.
"Forgotten?" Shakaar could hardly believe this. How could he have forgotten Jaro's abortive coup two year's earlier? "No, but we had hoped that someone had murdered you."
"Dear me, such hostility." Jaro shook his head in mock sadness. "No, I have been in retirement, preparing myself for the time my day would come again."
Shakaar's eyes darted from Jaro to Winn. They had worked together on the attempted coup, he knew, but nothing had been proven against the Kai. "Are you two attempting another takeover of Bajor?" he asked, almost laughing. "If so, you could hardly have chosen a worse time. In a week, Bajor will most likely no longer exist."
"This is no revolution," Winn said, trying to look shocked at the accusation. "Did you not hear my words? Two shall convert."
"Him?" Shakaar looked at the arch-traitor with loathing.
"I know it may sound a little difficult to believe," Jaro said smoothly, "but the Kai is correct. I am not here to fight you, but our joint enemies. I will throw in my forces and my weapons with yours. Working together, the three of us should be able to better defend Bajor than we could if we did not cooperate. Surely even you can see that, Shakaar?"
Fighting back his desire to throw Jaro out of the window or into a jail cell, Shakaar forced himself to think. "You want to help?"
"That is all." Jaro spread his hands and a smile.
"And afterward?" probed Shakaar. "Immunity? A place in the government? What is your price?"
"I have no price," Jaro answered. "I can see that you find this difficult to believe, but in this instance it is true." He raised his eyebrows. "May I be frank with you?"
"Please do," Shakaar said sarcastically.
Jaro inclined his head. "It is true that I think I am the best man for the seat you occupy. I always will think so. But that seat is of no use to either of us if Bajor no longer exists. Thus, while there is this threat to Bajor, I propose a truce between us all, so that we may join our efforts into a unified defense against the invaders. After we defeat them—then we can begin to fight among ourselves again. For now, let us forget all politics but the one aim of saving the world that we all love. What do you say, Shakaar?"
Shakaar considered his options. Much as he distrusted them both, Winn and Jaro both had valid points. Divided, their forces and efforts would be next to useless. Together … well, they might not win the upcoming battle, but at least they'd stand a chance. Shakaar made his decision. "I cannot refuse anyone whose wish it is to save our world," he replied, his heart heavy. "I accept your aid while the battle remains to be fought." And I pray to all the Prophets that I don't live to regret this decision, he thought bitterly.
Jaro grasped his forearm in greeting, and smiled. "Then we are, at least temporarily, on the same side."
"The one and the two," Kai Winn announced officiously. "In their faith, Bajor shall be made whole," she quoted. "What can withstand us now?"
CHAPTER 15
"DO YOU REALLY think that this will do any good, Benjamin?"
Sisko blinked and then smiled slightly at Dax. "Old man, at the moment, I'm willing to grasp at any straws. Besides, I don't think these aliens are really evil."
"They're just very twisted," Odo observed. "They're willing to destroy Bajor and billions of people without even meaning them any harm." He growled. "How do you ever hope to reason with these people, Captain?"
"By finding some common ground," Sisko answered. "I refuse to believe we can't get through to them. This tour may show us what their culture is like, but I'm also praying that it'll show Tork what we're like. And, maybe, show us some chink in their mental armor that we can penetrate."
"An admirable goal, Captain," agreed Odo. "But I can't help feeling that it may be a futile one. These Hive dwellers show very little interest in logic."
"But Benjamin is right to try," Dax argued. "It may be the last chance that Bajor has."
"I agree," Odo admitted. "But I'd prefer a better one."
"So would I," Sisko confessed. He stroked his chin. "Odo, thus far these aliens don't know that you're not one of us."
Odo's eyes sparkled. "And you'd like to keep it that way, eh? It might be a good idea at that."
At that moment, their guide came hurrying back down the short corridor toward them. Considering how short his legs were, Tork managed quite a respectable pace.
"We are ready to begin now," he announced. "I have reserved a travel tube strictly for our use. We can go wherever in the Hive you desire—with the exception of secured areas, I am afraid."
"We quite understand," Sisko said smoothly. "To be honest, what I'm most interested in is seeing what your people are like—what the Hive is like, in fact." He gestured at the walls of the corridor. "This is all we've really seen of the place so far. I hope it isn't all metal walls."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Tork, aghast. "The Hive is a place of beauty and culture." He considered for a moment. "Perhaps an overview would be best to begin with." He ushered them along the corridor like a fussy mother hen. "This is really a remarkable privilege for me, to be allowed to show you around. You are, of course, the first aliens I have ever encountered."
They had reached the entrance to some kind of travel vehicle now, and Tork gestured for them to enter. Sisko had to bend slightly to do so, as it was built for the average Hive dweller, who was a good foot and a half shorter than he was. Inside was a small driver's position with a control pad and stick, and five of the boardlike seats. Tork moved to the controls, and glanced back at his passengers.
"I am sorry that you must stand," he apologized. "But it did not occur to us that you would find our seating uncomfortable."
"It's quite all right," Dax assured him. "This way, we'll be able to get a better view—assuming there is a view."
"Oh, yes," he assured her. "A very delightful one once we are out of the confines of the complex here." His fingers rapped on the panel, and he seized the control stick firmly. "We begin."
The travel vehicle moved quite slowly to begin with, and then started to accelerate. The device was almost silent, save for a low hum of a motor.
Tork cleared his throat. "Please, feel free to ask questions," he told them. "I will be as frank with you as I can. We have very little. to hide from you."
"Then why do you dislike people who live on planets?" asked Odo, getting straight to the heart of the matter. "It sounds like a mania to me."
"Not at all," exclaimed Tork, slightly shocked. "I had imagined that you understood the matter fully, since you live on a space station. Do you not find life in space so much better than it could ever be on the surface of a planet?"
"It's … different," Dax answered. "And it is possible to enjoy both. Surely your race lived on a planet once?"
"Of course," agreed Tork, "but we also were unicellular creatures once. We evolved through that, and on to further stages in life. Likewise, we have evolved beyond living on planets and into a more natural and fulfilling stage
of life."
Sisko was starting to understand. "And you think that anyone who lives on the surface of a planet by choice is a lower form of intelligent life, then?"
"Is that not logical?" asked Tork. "It is natural progression: Life begins in the oceans, then moves to the land, then into space. To remain in any one place is counter to natural reason."
Odo snorted. "Then you'd have a hard time comprehending some life-forms in our galaxy."
"Right," agreed Sisko. "On Tirek Eight, for example, there is a species of highly intelligent squidlike creatures that spend all of their lives in the ocean. They have a tremendous civilization, one that has existed for sixteen thousand years."
Tork shook his head. "That sounds implausible," he admitted. "Though, of course, I accept your word that this civilization does exist. But it must obviously be an inferior one, and stagnant. Ah!" he exclaimed, before they could argue with him. "Now we emerge!"
The travel tube shot out of the featureless tunnel they had been traversing, and into the open. Sisko's eyes opened wide as he took in the view before them, and he couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise and admiration. He heard Dax give a similar exclamation, and stared raptly out of the large windows of the travel vehicle.
The view was panoramic and splendid. Sisko estimated that they were probably about a third of the way down the Hive's main axis, and a quarter of the way toward the center of the vessel. They were therefore looking down a long tube as they headed what he decided to call south.
The walls curved gently upward on either side of them, enveloping their "world" until they met together over their heads. Either there was artificial gravity inside the Hive, or else gravity was provided by rotating this inner core, because the Hive spread over every available surface.
There were buildings all around. They were constructed of crystal and metal, of many varying designs and heights. Towers, minarets, spires, and bridgelike structures abounded. Domes in different hues of the rainbow were scattered about, and walkways on the "ground" and at higher levels. It was like seeing the Promenade of Deep Space Nine multiplied a millionfold.