GUL DUKAT SAT easily in his command seat, watching the quiet efficiency of the operatives inside Cardassian Central Command. There were some thirty-five officers working in the room, but the noise level was low. Dukat disliked unnecessary sounds. His staff knew that and paid close heed to what they were doing—and how softly they could carry out their tasks.
From this room on Cardassia Prime, the military vessels of the Empire could be monitored and controlled. Dukat enjoyed his time here, at the very heart of Cardassian strength and will. He kept close watch on what was happening through controlled space, and even the occasional problems were more stimulating than irritating.
The technician at the communications desk before him half turned in his chair. "Incoming message from the Karitan, sir," he reported. His voice was pitched perfectly to just carry to Dukat's ears.
"On my screen," Dukat ordered, tapping the control to bring it to life. The face of the captain of the ship sprang into view. "Report," Dukat commanded.
"We have caught up with the alien intruder," the captain answered. He looked tense and unhappy. "We can confirm the transmission from the Vendikar: the craft is several thousand miles long."
"Intriguing." Dukat rubbed the back of his left hand absentmindedly. "And is it still in Cardassian space?"
"Yes, Gul," the captain answered. "But it will cross into the Darane system in just under two hours. There is still time for us to intercept it."
Dukat sighed. "Be sensible, Captain. What would you do with a vessel that size if you did intercept it?" He was pleased to see a chastised expression on the young officer's face. "There is still no indication of how the aliens managed to destroy the Vendikar?"
"My science crew has been examining what wreckage we recovered," the captain replied. "All they are able to say is that the ship was literally shredded somehow in flight. Shields did not prevent the attack."
It wasn't exactly a lot of information, but Dukat hadn't really expected better. "Very well, Captain," he answered. "Your orders are simple: Follow the intruder, but take no action against it unless you come under attack. Maintain sensor sweeps and observe. Report to me anything that happens."
The captain scowled. "Understood," he said reluctantly.
Dukat glared into his screen. "You do not like your orders?" he asked, with deceptive mildness. Some of these younger captains were quite presumptuous. Standards in the military these days were seriously slipping.
"It's not that, Gul," the captain said hastily. "It's simply that … Well, we are going to allow them to go unpunished for destroying one of our ships?"
Dukat shook his head slightly. "What did they teach you before allowing you command of a ship?" he chided. "They will not go unpunished. However, if you tried to attack them, I have a strong suspicion that the Karitan would end up in small pieces like the Vendikar." He allowed himself a small smile. "I'm sure that doesn't appeal to you. It doesn't appeal to me—I'd then have to dispatch another ship to take your place, and that would be a waste of time. As you reported, the intruder is about to enter the Darane system. This will make it a Bajoran problem. Let them attack the vessel and have their ships destroyed. You will monitor the event and record it. This way, we can discover what weapons the aliens possess without your having to lose your life and my having to sacrifice a science vessel. Now do you understand?"
The captain smiled. "Yes, Gul," he replied, admiration in his voice. "It is a sound plan."
"Of course it is," Dukat informed him. "So, obey my instructions to the letter. Out." He snapped off the contact, and settled back in his seat. Hardly a promising officer, but you had to make do with whatever tools were at hand. . . . He considered his next move. The intruder was about to become a Bajoran problem, which amused him. Let those weaklings try and figure it out! Of course, their first response was likely to be a request for aid from Captain Sisko on Deep Space Nine. They always went mewling to him for help at the slightest provocation.
That would be interesting. The Federation was a lot more likely than the Bajorans to get answers about this vessel. And if the Karitan paid proper attention, then Dukat would get the information, too.
A ship eight thousand miles long … Normally, technology didn't greatly impress Dukat, unless it was in the field of weaponry, but this was no mean achievement. The secrets that the intruder revealed might prove to be quite helpful.
Should he give Sisko a call and alert him to the incoming problem? It would be a friendly gesture, after all. And Dukat enjoyed being friendly with the human … from time to time. As humans went, Sisko was almost likable. On the other hand, there was no need to overdo friendship. Why not simply let the Bajorans send for Sisko and leave him in the dark? It might be more fun to watch him fumble his way about without help.
Yes, that was it. Wait and see what happens, Dukat decided. He had a feeling that the intruder was up to something interesting in the Darane system. It would be educational to see just what that might be.
Dron surveyed the conference room and noted with satisfaction that every Hivemaster was present, including Tork. The youngster looked a trifle pale, but otherwise unaffected by his recent experience. He might be an idealistic fool, but he was obviously also resilient.
There was an air of excitement in the room, as everyone already knew what was happening. Dron indicated that the recording was to begin and then rapped on the edge of the table.
"Hivemasters," he said in a strong, clear tone, "the hour of fate is upon us. The next stage in the Great Design is about to commence. Makarn?"
The Science Master shuffled to his feet. "Ah, the target planet has been selected," he announced. "It is the fourth planet from the sun that we are now approaching. It is a world of some small industry, which will be of assistance to us, and it contains much vegetation. Preliminary surveys indicate a fair amount of mineral and metallic wealth on the planet, though there has been extensive mining already performed there. We assume this was done by an off-planet species, since there is little evidence of much refined metal on the surface of the world."
Dron glanced at him sharply. "There will be sufficient remaining for our needs, though?"
"Ah, yes, without doubt," Makarn responded. "There will be no delay in the Great Design."
"Excellent." Relieved, Dron turned to Pakat. "And how is our readiness?"
"We have three wings of attack vessels standing ready," Pakat reported. "The pilots have all achieved high scores in simulated runs, and I anticipate no problems. Our surveys show fewer than one hundred vessels currently in flight in the system, and their weaponry is inferior to ours."
Tork shuffled in his seat and leaned forward. "You are preparing to attack the inhabitants?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"We are preparing to defend ourselves," Pakat answered, snuffling loudly to show his displeasure. "Had you attended the last meeting, you would know that the local race—calling themselves 'Cardassians'—attacked our ships without provocation when last we met them. I am sure that none among us wishes to wait until they attack again before we prepare to defend ourselves?" He stared pointedly at Tork, who sat back in his seat and closed his mouth.
"If that is quite clear?" asked Dron. There were no further comments. He hadn't expected there would be. Even Tork couldn't complain about defending themselves. "Boran?"
The Industry Master stood up. "My teams are all prepared," he reported proudly. "We stand ready to harvest the coming fruits of our labor. Production is completely ready to commence as soon as the raw materials are obtained."
"Excellent," Dron complimented him. "Then it is clear that we are ready—that the Great Design can go ahead. After half a million years, the plans of the First Hive come to fruition, and we achieve our destiny." He gestured at the holographic representation of the planet that spun in the air above the table's surface. "All departments will come to full strength," he commanded. Turning to his Security Master, he said, "Raldar, the time has come to speak with these 'Cardassians,' in this system. Have a link established immediately."
"Of course," Raldar agreed. He set about tapping instructions into his comp. What only Dron and he knew was that there would be several layers of recording taken when they established contact. Dron couldn't take the chance that something might go amiss and spoil the records he intended to be kept for future Hives. However, if the aliens said or did anything untoward, it could be redesigned in the records Dron decided.
A moment later, the spinning globe above the table was replaced by a hologram of an alien race—the first that the other Hivemasters had ever seen. There was a murmur of shock and disgust from those assembled about the table. Even the liberal Tork and the elderly Hosir couldn't restrain themselves.
Well, the alien was ugly. It was also quite obviously not a Cardassian, but there was no need to mention that. This might be some subject species, for example. The being was roughly the size of a member of the Hive, and it stood upright, but that was about all the resemblance there was. It—possibly a he—was shell-less, and its skin was a pallid pink, instead of a rich gray. There was hair visible on the crown of its ugly head, and the being wore what appeared to be cloth draped over the larger part of its body. Dron wasn't too surprised—a creature that grotesque would have to cover itself.
The being spoke for a moment, and then the translation computers could begin to decode its vocalizations."—First Minister Worin, of Darane Four," the creature was saying. "Please identify yourselves."
Dron took a breath, and then said, "I am Hivemaster Dron of the Hive. You will leave your world immediately. We will allow you two days to evacuate your population."
"What?"
Was this alien stupid as well as deformed? Dron repeated his message patiently. "Do you comprehend?" he added.
"You're … insane," Worin finally spluttered.
"No," Dron answered. "We are not insane. You have two days. If you require assistance in evacuating your people, we will be willing to assist." He moved to cut the communication.
"Wait!" Worin exclaimed, holding up a hand. "You …
you're serious about this?"
"Of course we are serious," Dron replied. "This is not a matter we would joke about."
"But you can't be!" The alien looked almost panic-stricken. "What you ask is … unthinkable!"
Dron sighed. "It is not unthinkable," he explained. "And we are not asking. We will allow you two days, and then we shall commence harvesting this world. If your people are not removed by then, they will simply have to suffer the consequences. We have no desire to injure anyone, but we will not alter our schedule."
"No!" Worin seemed to have a grip on whatever low intelligence he possessed. The message had obviously sunk at least partway into his brain. "This is our world, and you cannot have it without a fight!"
Dron had been afraid of this: the alien was clearly insane.
"You are not utilizing the world," he explained. "We have need of it, and therefore we shall make use of it. Please stand aside and allow us to do this."
"Darane Four is our home!" cried Worin. "We won't let you have it."
"Home?" Dron shook his head in astonishment. "You are clearly not an intelligent species if you believe that a ball of mud and rock is a home. It is simply a resource, neither more nor less. You are not using it, so we shall."
"He can't be serious," muttered Premon to the table at large. "He thinks that this world is his home? What kind of deviants are these people?"
"The kind we will have trouble with," predicted Pakat.
"They're obviously intelligent enough to build crude weapons, but too stupid to build a home of their own."
Worin had been conferring with someone out of Dron's line of sight, in feverish haste. He now turned back to face the Hivemaster. "You will cease your flight," he ordered. "If you move any further into our system, we shall take it as a declaration of hostile intent and will be forced to defend ourselves."
This was going far better than Dron had imagined possible. It was quite obvious to all the others about the table that they were being threatened first. There would be no need to edit this recording at all. "We are not an aggressive species," Dron replied carefully. "We do not wish you any harm. But we need the planet that you call …" He shuddered. "… home. If you try and interfere with the Great Design, we shall be forced to retaliate. Any injuries or deaths your people sustain will therefore be your own fault."
"You're not having our planet!" Worin howled, and cut the communications link.
Dron allowed the picture to fade, and waited a few heartsbeats before he spoke again. "It appears that we are dealing with a dangerously deranged species," he said sadly. "Pakat, it would appear that your brave pilots will be forced to defend the Hive."
"And they all stand ready," Pakat answered proudly.
"The alien aggressors will not harm the Hive. That I vow."
"Good." Dron smiled. "We all knew that we could count on you." He spread his hands in resignation. "Well, we tried to do this without pain and bloodshed. Unfortunately, these aliens seem to completely lack logical faculties. We will be forced to fight them for what we need. Are there any further questions or comments?"
As he had expected, Tork stood up. "Is this really necessary?" he asked. Dron could see the pain on his face, his nose wrinkling almost uncontrollably. "Must we … kill to obtain what we need?"
"We all heard their spokesman," Dron told him. "They threatened us; any killing will begin with them and be on their own consciences."
"No, I mean is there no other world we can use instead?" Tork explained. "One without such insane inhabitants? I am reluctant to condone the removal of a species that is obviously so feebleminded."
"As are we all," Dron agreed, hypocritically. Sometimes decisions simply needed to be made, and then enforced. "And there are indeed further worlds that offer what we need."
"Then why do we not use one of them?" asked Tork, almost desperately.
"Makarn?" prompted Dron.
"Ah, because they lie beyond this one," the Science Master explained. "And we shall indeed use them. Once the process of deconstructing Darane Four is finished, then we shall need at least two further worlds.
Ah, and there is no telling whether their inhabitants will be any less maniacal than the ones here. We must face the possibility that we could be in an area of space whose inhabitants are all terminally deranged."
"Thank you." Dron signaled for Tork to reseat himself.
"None of us wish harm even to such a subintelligent species. But we have no choice. If they attack us, we will defend ourselves. Darane Four will be the source of material for the next stage in the Great Design. Now, if there are no further comments, can I ask for a sign of assent?"
Pakat and Raldar signified their approval instantly. One by one, the rest of the Hivemasters complied. As expected, Tork's vote was the last. But even he had agreed.
"So be it," Dron announced. "The Great Design goes forward today!"
Gul Dukat watched the transmission from the Karitan with great interest. The messages between the intruder and Darane IV had been intercepted. The aliens were not backing down, and those idiotic Bajoran colonists on Darane IV were equally stubborn. The intruder's craft was advancing into the Darane system, and the small fleet of ships the colonists possessed were massing to meet it.
This should prove to be a most interesting day. . . .