by John Peel
The Cardassian attack, though, was doing more than holding its own. Taking a page from the enemy's tactics, two ships combined to attack a single enemy craft. Their combined firepower took time, but they could overload their target's shields, and eventually destroy it. Of course, they had to watch out for further attacks as they did so.
"Five ships lost," Tarvok reported. "Four of the enemy annihilated."
Explosion followed explosion on the screen. His tactical display showed the maneuvering and from time to time, lights would wink out. Green for the Cardassian forces, orange for the aliens. At the moment, everything looked fairly even. The number of ships deployed was almost identical, and they were trading losses. Of course, Gavron didn't expect this to last. His men were battle-trained veterans, while the forces of the Hive had only fought one battle before in their lives. They could not possibly hold against his superior soldiers, especially not using the tactics that they had before.
Three more of the enemy were taken out, sending the unmatched ships scurrying for …
Wait a moment! Gavron stared at the tactical display. Despite the fact that they were now without their partners, the Hive ships were not retreating. On the contrary, the three single ships were now maneuvering to reenter the fray. What did this mean? Had they evolved a new plan?
That they had indeed became clear seconds later. Gavron had ordered his men to ignore solo ships after one of the pair had been destroyed, assuming that they would be out of the battle.
What was going on?
The three single craft, unbothered by the Cardassian attackers, swooped back into the battle. As they passed close to the Cardassian ships they had targeted, something was fired from each craft. It looked a little like a photon torpedo.
"Evasive action!" Gavron roared. "Tell those captains to—" But his orders were too late to help.
The "torpedoes" exploded before they hit their targets, which made very little sense.
Until three Cardassian warships simply fragmented in space.
"What is happening?" yelled Gavron. "What did they do to my ships?"
Tarvok merely shook his head and scanned the displays in front of him. "Unknown for the moment," he replied. "It's impossible to get sensor readings through all that weaponry. It'll take a few moments."
Frustrated as he was, Gavron realized that Tarvok was doing his best. "Rescind my previous orders," he commanded. "Tell the captains to not ignore solo ships any longer. Every enemy vessel is to be treated as a hostile and engaged."
As he watched, three further green lights blinked off on his display.
The unthinkable was happening. The enemy was starting to win this engagement. And he had no idea how they were doing it.
"What will happen to me?" asked Tork. There was no mistaking the fear and concern in his voice.
Without looking up from the controls, Sisko replied, "That is in the hands of the Prophets, as the Bajorans would say. I can't tell you what will happen because I don't exactly know."
Tork considered this for a moment. He didn't seem to mind the view of space through the runabout's window at all now, apparently having other things to worry about instead. "Then how do I know it will be real?" he asked.
"It won't be real" Sisko answered. "The aliens are completely different from us. They may not even possess bodies as we know them. Instead, they adopt the guise of people from your mind. It will appear to you that you are standing in familiar places and conversing with people you know. But you will in fact be meeting with the entities who constructed the wormhole we'll be entering very shortly. They do not see time in quite the same way we do. To them, it is one continual present. The concept of linear time—which seems natural to us—took them some getting used to … if they understand it even now. Everything you see and hear will be fragmented."
"Then I do not see the point of this. If it is not real, why must I experience it?"
"Think of it as a different perspective," Sisko suggested. "A very different perspective. The entities may not comprehend a lot about us, but they are highly intelligent and motivated. Sometimes they can see flaws in us that we never knew existed. Sometimes they reveal things about us that we can't see. At other times, they help to clarify our thinking. They should be able to clarify some of the confusion you're experiencing."
Tork sighed. "I would very much like to have my confusion removed," he confessed. "It seems as if these past few days have been an assault on everything I have ever believed in. I do not know which way to turn."
"Then let's hope that the entities can offer you some direction," Sisko said. "Now this next part may be very disconcerting. We're about to enter the wormhole. It manifests itself quite spectacularly, so be ready for this."
Tork nodded, and stared out of the window in evident fascination. So much for his agoraphobia! He had apparently overcome it without too great a struggle.
And then the runabout reached the critical threshold of the wormhole. In an explosion of light, it unfolded before them. No matter how often Sisko traversed it, the sight was never less than impressive. A huge whirlpool of colors seemed to draw the tiny ship into its funnel. Golds, silvers, reds, blues, yellows, and hues of colors he could barely begin to imagine swirled about them as they plunged into the mouth of the effect. Flashing past them were bands and streaks of magentas, ochers, and umbers; sparkles of light and color danced about them in a kaleidoscope of brilliance.
Tork gasped, more from awe than from fear, and stared out at this tremendous display. "It is … beautiful," he finally said.
"It is that," agreed Sisko. He tapped in the commands to halt their forward vector. The ship's computer began station-keeping, otherwise they would be sucked in and through the vortex. "Now, if you can tear your eyes away from the view, it's time for you to meet the entities."
Reluctantly, Tork turned to follow Sisko to the casing that held the Orb. Sisko bent and lifted the shell, placing it on the closest seat. Then he moved to stand behind it. This was not to be his experience.
"Everything will be fine," he assured the alien. "Simply look at the Orb, and then concentrate. Nothing else. Then let whatever happens happen." He gave the Hivemaster a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you may even enjoy the experience."
"I hope that I will learn from it, at the least," Tork answered. "I am ready."
Sisko nodded, and then gripped the edges of the two small doors on the front of the Orb. "Here we go," he whispered, and then pulled.
As the doors opened, the light from the Orb streamed out, bathing Tork in its warm, comforting glow. Tork's eyes sparkled, and then he seemed to lapse into a trance. Sisko smiled ruefully, recalling his own experience with the Orb and his meeting with the entities when he first arrived on Deep Space Nine three years earlier. Nothing had prepared him for what he had experienced, and he suspected that Tork was discovering just how unique this experience was.
It seemed to Tork as if reality shifted. As he stared into the glow of the Orb, the runabout dissolved around him. He found himself standing in nothingness. There was only whiteness about him. He felt neither heat nor cold. There seemed to be no directions, and nothing else in this universe with him. Yet he was not scared. He felt perfectly at ease.
"Strange …" a voice seemed to whisper about him. There was no visible source for the sound, but it sounded friendly. "Different."
And then he stood in the Hive. He was in his favorite spot in park nineteen, where the river meandered past a small island. Here grew the beautiful blue sami flowers that Sahna loved so much. He was tempted to reach down and pick a handful, but stopped, thinking that this might not be allowed. He tried to remember what Sisko had said about this not being real, but it was hard to believe. It felt so much as it always did. There was the faint breeze from the air units stirring the air, and he could smell the light scent of the sami in front of him. He could hear the rippling motion of the water beyond.
"Logic," said a familiar, beloved voice. He turned to see Sahna watching him,
an oddly intent expression on her face. "It is a linear concept."
"Sahna," he said, amazed. "How did you get here?" And then he realized that it couldn't be her; it had to be one of those entities of which Sisko had spoken. "I am sorry. You startled me."
"Logic," the alien-Sahna repeated. "A linear concept. Cause and effect. Clue and resolution. Beginning and end."
"Yes," he agreed, confused. "It is a linear concept."
"That which is," said a second voice. "And that which is to be, inferred from that which is." Tork saw an alien-Hosir approach.
"Yes," Tork agreed again. "That which follows comes from that which precedes."
"Interesting," the alien-Sahna said.
"Odd," added alien-Hosir. "Cause and effect …" He seemed to be savoring the sound of the words. Then, sharply: "How do you know what you know?"
If Tork had been confused before this experience, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. "I do not understand."
"That we can see," alien-Sahna agreed. "But think, and tell us: How do you know what you know?"
Tork struggled to make sense of the question. "Partly by discovery," he said. "What I find out for myself, I know. Partly from facts that are given to me by others."
"How do you know they know what they know?" asked alien-Hosir.
"They know it by the same process that I know things," Tork answered, hoping he was understanding the question correctly. "Some things they have discovered; others have been passed down to them."
The scene abruptly changed. Instead of standing in the park, Tork was in his own room. Facing him now was Harl. "And others pass along what others have told them?" the alien-Harl asked.
"Yes. It is a line of knowledge that goes back millennia."
"Linear knowledge," said the alien-Hosir, who had simply materialized. "Linear progression."
"Yes," agreed Tork.
"But how," asked the alien-Sahna, "do you know that it is linear without interruption?"
"I am sorry," Tork replied, confused. "I do not understand what you are asking me."
"Linear," alien-Sahna repeated. It seemed to be their favorite word. "One, two, three … How do you know it is one, two, three?
"And not simply two, three?" asked the Harl-being. "If it is linear, is it completely linear?"
This was not making things simpler for Tork. "You want to know about authority?" he asked. "When things are passed along, their worth depends on their authority. Those who are accurate pass along accurate information. Our history, for example, comes from the people who made it. It has been passed along from generation to generation."
He was suddenly back in the Council chambers of Bajor. "History," said an alien-Sisko. "Passed along, one two three? Those who experience the event pass it along."
"Exactly," agreed Tork. "That way, we know it is accurate."
"Only if the one, two, three are unbroken," said an alien-Dax. "The problem with linear: One must follow another. If one is missing, then the linear is shattered."
"Shattered?" asked Tork. Why couldn't these aliens simply tell him what they meant? This was too unsettling, conversing in this fashion. "I do not comprehend."
The alien-Hosir snorted. "History," he said. "One event follows another. One event causes another. One event influences another. It is linear. It is … logical."
"Yes," agreed Tork.
"Behavior," said the alien-Sahna. "That is not always logical."
"No," admitted Tork. "Emotions can sway logic where behavior is concerned."
"Emotions can sway the linear, then?" asked the Harl-being. "It can make the linear nonlinear. It can introduce … error? Lies? Deceit?"
"Yes." Tork was finally starting to see the point of this discussion. It was a very roundabout way to reach the point, but he suddenly saw what the aliens were asking. "You mean that information that is passed along in a linear fashion is capable of being corrupted and changed. Sometimes by error, and sometimes deliberately."
"Yes," agreed Sahna's look-alike. "The linear is subject to interruption. One, two, four. Or to start at four and not one."
"Or three and not one," added the Hosir entity.
Three and not one …
Tork almost fainted as he realized what the aliens were suggesting. "No," he whispered. "You can't mean that?"
He was standing back in the Hive again, this time in the Masters' chambers. He stared at the conference table as the holographic image of Darane IV was destroyed again and again as he watched.
"Destruction," said the alien-Harl. "It is the final linear event. There is no further linear beyond destruction."
"For us," the alien-Sahna added, "there is no destruction, because we are not linear. For you, the linear is all that you are."
Darane was sucked dry again and again as he watched in horror.
"Is this one or is this three?" asked Hosir's image. "One is a builder, a keeper of linearity. Three is destruction, a beginner-again."
"No," gasped Tork, trying not to accept what they were showing him. "You are wrong. You must be."
He was in the runabout with Sisko and Dax. It couldn't be the real runabout, because there, Dax was not present. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.
"We show you only what is in your mind," the alien-Sisko said. "This is not our mistake, if it is a mistake."
"This is what you have been keeping from yourself," added alien-Dax. "This is the logic, the linear, that you have striven to suppress."
Tork felt giddy and sick to his hearts. "It cannot be," he insisted blindly. "This is delusion, not logic."
"The logic is within," Sahna's image told him. "You must be true to yourself. You must be linear. You must follow one, two, three."
"You must face reality," said an alien-Dron. "There is image and reality. But you must distinguish them both."
"Reality," added the alien-Sisko, "can hide behind an image. It can disguise itself. But it is linear. The image can be removed."
"The image must be removed," the alien-Sahna insisted. "And you must do it. It is important. If you do not do this, then the linear Bajor will be destroyed. It will become no more."
He was back beside the stream in the park. Only the alien-Sahna was with him now. "I am image," she told him. "You know the real. But there are places where you have confused the image with the real. Be linear. Seek the truth. Understand, and then follow what you believe. Is that not the essence of being linear?"
"Yes," he admitted. "It is. If I know the truth and do not follow it, I am denying it. I am hiding it. I am becoming corrupt, as others have before me." He took a deep breath. "It will not be easy."
"We have learned that many things are not easy," the image of Sahna replied. "When we first experienced Sisko, we discovered that there is linearity. Now we can speak of first meeting Sisko. Before, we could not. That is linear. It is not easy for us to be linear, but it is possible." She reached out a hand to touch his shell, and it was the touch of his Sahna, his One-to-be. "It is not easy for you to follow the truth," she added.
"It is not easy," he agreed. "But it is possible."
She smiled at him. "You have grasped the truth," she said. "May it illumine you. Now—"
He was back in the runabout. Tork knew this for a certainty. It didn't seem more real than his vision had, but the knowledge was sufficient. He blinked and then looked up from the Orb to Sisko. "I have seen," he said softly.
Sisko closed the doors and the light from the Orb was extinguished. Tork felt as if a part of him had been dimmed also. '"That was quick," he said. "Just a few seconds. Did you get the clarification you desired?"
"No," Tork answered honestly. "But I did receive the clarification that I needed. I now know what I have been hiding from myself. I know the truth."
"And that is …?"
"That my people have been lied to, Captain." It was hard for him to admit this, but he knew that he had no option. He had to hold on to the truth. He had to be linear. "That what we
have believed for millennia has been an illusion. That our history is a sham. That we have become murderers through deceit."
CHAPTER 25
"IT'S A BEAUTIFUL sight, isn't it, Nerys?"
Kira turned from the view of the city she had been studying and smiled sadly at Shakaar. "Yes, it is." She bit at her lip uncertainly. "I was just thinking how well we'd done to rebuild so much, considering how little the Cardassians left us."
Shakaar moved to join her at the window. "I was thinking the same thing just a short while ago," he confessed. "We really have done pretty well, haven't we, for all the petty political fighting?"
After a few silent moments, Kira asked, "Do you think it was worth it?"
"Don't you?" Shakaar gave her his old grin. "Nerys, you never doubted that fighting the Cardassians was the right thing. And when Kai Winn and Vedek Bareil made that peace with the Cardassians, you supported it wholeheartedly. Why this disenchantment now?"
"Because in a day or so it might all be gone." Kira gestured at the view. "All that work, and maybe for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing," Shakaar said firmly. "It was for us. For our souls. Rebuilding our world gave us meaning and hope. Even if it is all destroyed by the Hive, it will have been more than worth it. Bajor has been reborn, Nerys." He smiled, sadly. "You know, I actually got out of my office the other day and went to a concert."
"You?" Kira was astonished. "Listening to music?"
He laughed. "It does sound odd, doesn't it? But the government's been sponsoring art, and I thought I'd better see where some of that money was being spent. It was a concert by Theron—have you heard of him?"
Kira shook her head.
"Well, he's an up-and-coming composer, I gather. Anyway, I sat through the whole evening, and surprised myself by really enjoying it. If you ask my uneducated opinion, he's every bit as good a composer as Varani is." Shakaar paused, and then added: "If we still have such seeds of greatness, nothing we do is wasted. Even if the world does end tomorrow."