APPARENTLY UNABLE TO comprehend what the fuss was about, Dron blinked. "If that is the name of the planet, then, yes—we aim to absorb Bajor next."
"You can't do that!" Sisko exclaimed, striving to keep his temper in check. "Billions of people live there. You can't condemn them all to death!"
"We are condemning no one, Captain," Dron replied. "We do not wish to harm any living being, no matter how insane they may be. We are quite prepared to wait a reasonable length of time until the planet has been evacuated before it is absorbed. Would three of their days be sufficient?"
Sisko could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Three days?" he echoed hollowly. "To evacuate an entire planet?"
"We could wait longer," Dron said, obviously believing he was being generous. "As many as seven, should it prove necessary."
"You can't be serious," Odo snapped. "You expect the Bajorans simply to pack up and leave their homes?"
"Homes?" Dron appeared to be puzzled again. "It is only a planet. Why would they not agree to leave it if it is necessary to our survival?"
"Because they live there!" snarled Odo. "The planet is their home."
"That is absurd," one of the other Hivemasters broke in. "I, ah, I am Makarn, Science Master," he added. "It is simply not possible that any, ah, sane race would choose to live on the surface of a planet."
"Quite," agreed Dron. "After all, Captain, did you not tell me that you are all living on a space station?" He smiled. "And do you consider yourself sane or not?"
Sisko shook his head slightly. "It is true that we all live on a space station," he agreed slowly. "But that alone is no decider of sanity. We have all also lived on planets, and may yet do so again."
"There is no reasoning with such creatures!" exclaimed another of the Hivemasters. He glowered at Sisko. "Clearly, they are not completely civilized or intelligent."
Dax stared back at the alien until he flinched and looked away. "Is that your sole criterion for determining mental state?" she asked mildly. "Whether a person lives on a planetary surface or in space?"
"Not entirely," Dron replied smoothly. "But it is quite obviously the basis for such a judgment. No sane person would subject himself to the vagaries and hazards of an exposed world."
"That's a very far-flung accusation," Sisko commented. "And, since obviously none of you have lived on the surface of a planet, it smacks to me more of prejudice than fact."
"I told you they were incapable of reason," the angry Hivemaster broke out again.
"Pakat," Dron said admonishingly. "They are still our guests for the time being. Please do not be so rude to them." He turned back to Sisko. "My apologies, Captain, but Pakat is the Defense Master. It is his responsibility to keep the Hive safe. He takes his duties very seriously."
"Ah." Sisko stared at Pakat, determined to remember his face. "And it was you, then, who led this massacre?"
"Defense," Pakat corrected, with as much dignity as he could. "We were attacked first."
"No," Sisko answered. "You began the engagement by attempting to steal what does not belong to you—a world belonging to an intelligent species. As a representative of the United Federation of Planets, I have to inform you that this alone makes you the aggressors in our eyes."
"We're not interested in your warped moral perspectives," Pakat snapped.
"Captain," Dron said hastily, "how can anyone own a planet? Or a star? Or a comet? They are simply resources, to be utilized to their fullest. The inhabitants of the world we absorbed were not using it, and we needed it. Why, then, the accusation of theft?"
Odo growled, "You just don't understand, do you? You can't simply take a planet because you want to."
Dron spread his arms. "We did not want it, we needed it. And we need more planets for further raw materials. We shall take them as we must. It is not theft. It is survival."
Sisko was feeling very frustrated. It was quite clear that they were simply not getting through to these Hivemasters. Their attitudes and philosophies were fundamentally different from anything Sisko had ever experienced before. "Perhaps what is needed here," he suggested, "is better understanding of each other's point of view?"
Dron inclined his head. "How do you mean, Captain?"
"We don't seem to be comprehending one another," Sisko answered. "Perhaps what is needed is that we spend some time together in trying to see the other's perspective."
An elderly Hivemaster spoke up. "Ah, I begin to see," he commented. "I am Hosir, Master of very little at the moment." He moved forward. "Perhaps if you were to visit with us for a while, and see the Hive itself, with one of us as your guide, you would better understand what we believe in.
"Precisely," agreed Sisko. "Perhaps you would be good enough to honor us by showing us around?"
Hosir snorted. "I can barely walk across the room without pain, Captain. I would be a poor guide, believe me." He gestured at a younger person beside him. "Might I suggest Tork instead? He is a very capable young man, and possessed of both great knowledge and great enthusiasm."
"No!" Pakat exclaimed. He glared angrily at the visitors. "This is obviously merely a trick by these creatures to study us for weaknesses. They have shown in words and action that they mean to attack us."
There was always one paranoid, Sisko reflected. "No," he said gently. "We genuinely wish to understand your people, and I think that this is the best way to do so." He turned to Dron. "If you are worried that we are here to act as spies, then simply tell Tork not to show us anything to do with your war effort."
"We have no war effort," Dron said smoothly. "We do not attack; we only defend ourselves." He considered for a moment. "But your point is well made, Captain." He turned to Tork. "Will you be good enough to show our visitors about the Hive, Tork? Allow them to converse freely, and answer their questions to the best of your ability. But do not take them to the Defense areas."
Tork nodded, and Sisko saw a gleam of something in the young alien's eyes. Worry? Eagerness?
"I would be honored," Tork replied. "I agree that it is important that our motives and thoughts be correctly understood."
"Excellent," Dron said. "Now, Captain, perhaps we could offer you a little refreshment before your explorations commence?"
"Thank you," Sisko answered. "That is very gracious of you. Also, may I have your permission to contact my ship and inform them of what we have already discussed? I told them I would check in every thirty of our minutes."
"Of course, Captain." Dron inclined his head. "Do you desire, privacy for this contact?"
"No," Sisko said. "After all, we are being open with one another, aren't we?" He smiled, and then tapped his communicator, "Sisko to Kira."
"Kira here," came back the major's voice. "Is everything okay, Captain?"
"We're fine," Sisko answered. "And we're about to get a guided tour, which may take some time. However, we do have some news that you may wish to pass along. The Hive is indeed undergoing fission, as the chief surmised. When it finishes this process in a couple of days, there will be two Hives. One will be heading into Cardassian space. The other will go toward Bajor."
There was no mistaking the tension in Kira's voice. "Are you saying what I think?"
"Yes." Sisko kept his voice as calm as possible. "Hivemaster Dron informs me that his people aim to … process Bajor next. He is willing to give your people a week to evacuate the planet."
"Captain, that's crazy!" Kira protested. "Those murdering—"
"That's enough!" Sisko snapped. "You have your orders, Major. Pass along the information to Shakaar and stand ready for further messages from me. Sisko out."
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, irritated 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?"