THE BATTLE WAS faring far worse than Marel could ever have feared. So far, over twenty of his small fleet had been annihilated by the aliens' peculiar weapon, and none of the enemy's ships had been even damaged. The intruders were well protected, and the few Daranian ships were not well armed. This had never been considered a dangerous system, and the need for defense had seemed slight.
What he would give for a single dreadnought right now …
But this was not the time for wishful thinking. Marel called out to his first officer: "Order Red Flight to attack the six alien ships on heading one zero nine mark four. I want two ships to go for the head-on assault, and the other four to try from behind. Tell Red Leader to single out one of the intruders and attack it with all of their firepower."
She nodded. "An idea?"
"A hope." In fact, it was more of a wish, but Marel had little else to try. In all of the attacks, the intruders had always flown in pairs, a precise distance apart. Whatever their weapon, perhaps it required two ships for it to be effective? In which case …
He watched the schematics as Red Flight whirled to meet the targeted enemy craft. Marel tensed, as he saw two of his ships flying directly for the three pairs of alien vessels. The other four of his ships boosted, spun, and came whipping in from the rear of the aliens. All four opened fire on a single ship.
"Their shields are overheating," his first officer reported. "If they can keep this up just a short while longer …"
There was a burst of white light from the screen. "One alien down!" she called, elated. Then, grimly: "Two of Red Flight are also destroyed."
They were bad statistics, but Marel felt a little happier knowing that the intruders could be taken out. "And the destroyed ship's partner?" he snapped.
The first officer studied her screen. "It's … pulling away," she reported. "Red Leader is initiating pursuit."
"No!" Marel ordered. "Let it go. Tell him to target another ship instead." His hunch had been correct, then—the enemy had to fight in pairs. "We only need to destroy one of each duo to stop the attacks. Order all units to so target their attacks. We can beat them," he added, trying to sound a lot more confident than he felt. They had destroyed one enemy ship—at a cost of almost two dozen of their own. At this rate, the battle wouldn't take long—and his forces would be utterly annihilated. . . .
Pakat glanced up from the projection, grimly. "One of our ships has been destroyed," he reported to Dron. "Its partner is returning to the Hive."
"How soon will the next flight be ready?" Dron asked.
"Very shortly," the Defense Master answered. "Two time units at most. The natives cannot possibly destroy many more of our ships."
Dron nodded his understanding, and then turned to Boran. "How soon before we can commence extractions?"
"In slightly less than three units," he replied. "The generators are almost at peak. The fields are beginning to be generated. As soon as we are in orbit of this world, we can start our work."
"Good." Dron studied the projection of the battle again. "The fewer of our youngsters who die, the better." He clenched his fist, as if clutching at the planet ahead of them. "And the aliens will pay for this attack of theirs."
"Give us full power," Sisko ordered as he took the command chair on the Defiant.
O'Brien sighed. "I wish I could, Captain." He shrugged. "Eighty percent's about the best you'll get. And there's still no weapons on-line; Fontana's working on them right now, but I can't promise anything."
"I know, Chief," Sisko said gently. "Whatever's humanly possible, I know that you'll accomplish. But we must try to help."
"Aye," O'Brien agreed. "We'll do all that we can."
"Helm ready," Dax reported. "Course plotted and laid in."
Sisko nodded, and glanced around the bridge. It was a lot tidier than before, with most of the circuit boards replaced, and all of the nonrepaired material removed. "Then let's go," he said simply. "Warp as soon as we possibly can."
"Understood," Dax assented. She tapped in the codes, and the umbilicals attaching the Defiant to Deep Space Nine were retracted. Dax nudged the ship away with the thrusters, and then switched to impulse. They streaked away from the station, which hung in view on the main screen.
Sisko wondered with a pang whether any of them would make it back again. There was so much still to be done. And there was Jake, waiting there. . . . Would he see his son again? Shrugging off the depressing thoughts, Sisko tried to concentrate on the mission. Even without weapons, there had to be something that they could do to help out.
Didn't there?
Startled by the sudden chime that shattered her train of thought, Sahna answered her comp. Harl's face floated out from the screen. Disappointed, she said, "Harl …"
"Yes, I know you were hoping it was Tork instead," her friend said, his nose twitching. "Sorry it was just me. You have not managed to reach him yet and tell him about your predicament?"
"No," Sahna answered. "He is in a meeting with the other Hivemasters, and cannot be disturbed."
"Well, I know why," Harl informed her. "The Great Design is under way, Sahna. We are ready to begin Phase Two."
Sahna stared at his image. "How can you know that?"
He gave a barking laugh. "I have just had my Determination," he informed her. "I am now a proud processor. Imagine that. And I have been told that we are in emergency working conditions. Preparations have begun. You know what this means, don't you?"
Icy dread clutched at her shell. "Yes," she said softly. "I knew that we were approaching our target star. We must now be preparing to mine it for everything we need."
"Exactly. And Tork and the other Hivemasters are in session because there are aliens on this world. They are refusing to allow us to take what we need."
Sahna let that thought sink in. "Then we are at … war?" she asked, using the unfamiliar word.
"Yes." Harl's face twisted in anger. "Those bastards have finally done it, Sahna. They're planning to wipe out an alien civilization to take what we need. And Tork has obviously gone along with their plans. Now what do you think of his lofty morals?"
Sahna felt the shock of Harl's accusation sinking into her stomach. She could not believe that Tork would ever agree to anything immoral, let alone the destruction of a race of alien creatures. Hart had to be wrong. He had to be! "I do not know," she said, finally. "But I will discover the truth." She stood up, determined to act. "I shall go to the Hivemasters' chambers and demand to speak with Tork."
"They'll never allow it," Harl replied.
"They will have to kill me to stop me," Sahna said simply. "I must know the truth."
Harl hesitated, and then nodded. "You are brave, Sahna. Listen, there is one here I am assigned to work with who shares my views about the Hivemasters. We are evolving a plan to create a little trouble."
"Harl!" she protested, afraid for her friend. He was so hot-tempered, and if he wasn't careful, he might do something very foolish. "You are an adult now," she admonished him. "And can be punished for your actions, instead of merely being reprimanded."
"I know that," he answered. "I am not stupid. I will be careful. Take care in your turn. And …" He grimaced again. "I know how hard it is for you to think ill of Tork, but you must be prepared to see that he may have already changed. He is a Hivemaster now."
"He is a Hivemaster now," Sahna agreed. "But he has been Tork all of his life. He will not change." She lowered her head slightly. "But I, too, am not stupid. I will hear what he has to say, and I shall make my own decisions."
Harl nodded. "Be strong," he said, and then cut his transmission.
Her head whirling, Sahna left her small apartment. It was not far to the chambers, and she could make it in two units or less. It would give her time to decide what she would say to Tork—if she was allowed to see him. Despite her words earlier, she was not sure that she would be allowed to see him.
And then what would she do?
"What can you tell me about Darane Four?" Sisko asked Major Kira quietly, as he stood beside her. "Is it likely to be defended?"
"Hardly." Kira's face twisted as she brought back her memories. "The place was originally a Cardassian slave camp. It's rich in deposits of many metals. The Cardassians shipped Bajorans there to work in the camps and then die. We finally liberated the planet, but we were unable to bring every prisoner back to Bajor." Kira paused and took a deep breath. "There were over four hundred thousand prisoners, many in poor health. The provisional government sent what medical supplies we could manage to help out, along with some able-bodied volunteers. The former slaves became farmers and colonists." She grimaced. "Until now, it was actually shaping up pretty well. Darane's soil is good for crops, and almost anything can grow there. Bajor's been importing food from them, and the colonists have done pretty well for themselves." She sighed. "They've got a few ships, Captain, mostly old and many obsolete. They wouldn't stand up well to a spitting match, let alone a firefight."
Sisko had been afraid of that. "Shakaar said he was sending what aid he could."
"And I'm sure he has," Kira agreed. "The problem is that it isn't much. You know we don't have many ships, Captain. If this invader is serious, they could wipe out Darane without even working up a sweat." She slammed her fist down on her console. "Dammit, and we don't even have our weapons capability! We're walking into a war zone without any protection! What can we do?"
"I'm not sure, Major," Sisko admitted. "But whatever we can do, we shall. We can only pray that it doesn't result in a shooting match." Trying not to allow the worry in his heart to show on his face, Sisko walked slowly back to his command chair and sat down. From all reports, the situation was not good, and it didn't look like it would get any better.
If only it didn't get any worse!
"What are they doing now?" Marel stared at his screen, puzzled. The battle—if you could use such a term for this one-sided fight—was trickling out. Most of his ships had been destroyed by the enemy. They had managed to take out six of the aliens, but that was all. In the past few minutes, six heavy interceptors had arrived from Bajor. Their firepower was much greater than that of any of Marel's ships, but they were just as vulnerable to the enemy weapon. Two of the new arrivals were already floating dust.
And now this!
The huge alien intruder had slowed considerably. It was approaching Darane IV now, within a few thousand miles. It looked like a huge, predatory fish attacking a smaller, ball-shaped prey. Marel didn't know what was going to happen, but it didn't take a genius to guess that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.
"I'm picking up energy readings from the craft that are off the scale," the first officer called in alarm. "They're powering up some incredible stuff in there, sir! Energies like none I've ever seen."
"Prophets!" swore Marel. To the communications officer, he added, "Get through to Worin and the Council. Tell them that they'd better get everyone off Darane that they can!" He stared in shock and horror at the enemy vessel. What was going on?
The two spread wings started to move. It looked like an unhurried folding of the wings to envelop the planet, but Marel knew that the process only seemed slow because of the scale. Those wings had to be moving at incredible speeds. The intruder was starting to enfold Darane in its terrifying embrace!
"Power levels rising," the first officer said, choking. "Whatever they're going to do is about to start. . . ."
As Marel stared helplessly at the screen, the undersides of both wings started to glow with power. Crawling, flickering tubes of incandescent light slashed across the metallic surface. The power buildup was enormous. The lights glowed, writhed, and burnt their way across the wings. Then, like some student science experiment on static electricity, the bolts suddenly snapped across the intervening space from the enveloping wings and into the planet's atmosphere.
"Prophets …" Marel breathed in horror.
Slashing across the skies of Darane, the blinding bolts of light finally connected with the surface of the planet. Wherever the beams touched, huge clouds of dust, smoke, and vapor rose. The clouds then started to rise toward the enveloping ship above the planet.
"They're … boiling away the surface," Marel gasped. "Those beams are destroying Darane!" Helpless, enthralled, appalled, the command crew stared at the ghastly image on the screen.
Beams of light, of destruction, lanced from the intruder, tearing into the surface of Darane. Wherever the beams touched, boiling columns writhed upward and were suctioned off toward the predator somehow by the incalculable energies involved.
Darane was being annihilated, while they watched, unable to do a thing to save their world or their people.