Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Ascendance

by David R. George III

  “The match comes from an historical database,” Dax said. “More than a hundred years ago, a squadron of six such vessels attacked a Federation starship and its landing party in the R-Eight-Three-Six star system. The Starfleet crew were there to investigate a city that had been destroyed on the second planet. They repelled the assault, but two months later, they were on hand when five more of those vessels showed up and attacked—” Dax abruptly stopped speaking and looked over at Kira. “They attacked Pillagra.”

  The name struck Kira like a slap across the face. “The Bajoran colony.” She had learned as a girl about the settle­ment, which had been founded more than a hundred years earlier. Though Pillagra had ultimately thrived, Kira knew that the original colonists had faced tremendous adversity, though she didn’t recall the incident Dax had referenced.

  “Yes,” the lieutenant said, referring to a readout on the tactical display. “All of the attacking vessels were ultimately destroyed . . . actually, the master of the last vessel self-destructed. Captain Kirk of the Enterprise reported that they identified themselves as the Ascendants.”

  The Ascendants. The name sounded familiar to Kira, but only vaguely, like a detail she might have read out of a history text long ago. “Who are they?” she asked. “Where are they from?”

  “Unknown,” Dax said. “There have been no other recorded encounters with them, but—” The lieutenant peered up from her console and over at Kira. “—Kirk described them as religious zealots who specifically targeted the Bajorans.”

  That did more than merely suggest a motivation for the sudden appearance of the fleet entering the system and heading for Bajor. “What were the offensive capabilities of those ships?” Kira asked.

  “Checking,” Dax said as she worked the tactical console. “The Constitution-class Enterprise and the Miranda-class Courageous faced five of those vessels at Pillagra. The Ascendant ships were highly maneuverable, but they were equipped with standard shielding and only low-yield laser cannon.”

  “That doesn’t sound too formidable,” Kira said.

  “It might not sound that way,” Dax said, “but the Enterprise suffered considerable damage and the Courageous was destroyed. The physical Bajoran colony was also wiped out, although the two Starfleet crews were able to save the colonists.”

  “Can you evaluate those ships out there now?” Kira asked, gesturing toward the viewscreen. “Is there any way to compare them to the ones that attacked Pillagra?”

  “At the very least, the ships coming through the wormhole have more powerful shielding,” Dax said. “Because our scans are being deflected, we can’t accurately assess their offensive capabilities, but it would be reasonable to assume considerable advancement over the course of a century.”

  Kira nodded. She’d reluctantly reached the same conclusion. Something else Dax had said troubled the captain even more. “Starfleet described the Ascendants as religious zealots,” Kira said. “Was there a reason that they attacked a Bajoran colony?”

  Dax studied her console. “According to Captain Kirk, the Ascendants sought to annihilate the Bajorans because they falsely worshipped the ‘True.’ ”

  “The True?” Kira echoed. “Were they referring to the Prophets?” The captain puzzled over the information and wondered about the meaning of falsely worshipping. Whatever the intentions of the Ascendants, it suddenly became clear that it likely had something to do with the Bajoran religion.

  Kira first thought to contact Pralon Onala, but the kai had left Bajor several days earlier and had yet to return. She had traveled into the Gamma Quadrant, to the fourth planet of the system that a little more than a year before had shifted three light-years, to a volume of space that encompassed the other terminus of the wormhole. Pralon had gone to Idran IV as part of a cultural exchange with the Eav’oq, a species whose surviving members had reappeared after fifty thousand years secreting themselves away in folded space, in something like a meditational trance.

  They claimed that they were hiding from a race of fanatical beings bent on wiping them out, Kira recalled hearing. Opaka Sulan, Odo, and Jake Sisko had all been present when the Eav’oq had returned to normal space. The captain wondered if those fanatics could have been the same zealots who had attacked Pillagra a century prior, and who at that moment were sending hundreds of ships toward Bajor. Kira didn’t know, but she believed that the events unfolding before her probably had something to do with her people’s faith. She considered contacting Opaka or the Vedek Assembly, but instead chose to seek guidance from another source.

  The captain looked to Candlewood at the communications station. “Open a channel to Bajor,” she said. The lieutenant operated his panel, then nodded to her. The captain peered back at the viewscreen. “Kira Nerys to Benjamin Sisko.”

  * * *

  By the time Asarem Wadeen returned to the reception room, she had spoken with Kira Nerys twice. The first time, Kira informed her of a fleet of alien vessels pouring out of the Celestial Temple, and the second, the captain identified the apparent invaders as historical aggressors against the century-­old world of Pillagra. Asarem immediately contacted Minister of Defense Fandor Jelt so that he could prepare Bajor’s fortifications, and then she charged Second Minister Ledahn Muri with apprising the rest of the government about the situation. Once the first minister had dealt personally with her diplomatic visitors, she intended to speak directly with the Bajoran people in a planetwide address.

  Asarem reentered the reception room, shadowed by Jasmine Tey, one of the security staff assigned to protect her. The first minister looked around the large, high-ceilinged chamber, where she had earlier been meeting with the Eav’oq delegation prior to embarking on a day of events scheduled across Bajor. Paintings adorned the walls, interspersed with decorative plants, and tall tables stood scattered about the empty room. Asarem did not immediately see Itu and his two peers, but then she spied them through an open doorway off to her left. She headed in that direction.

  The three Eav’oq looked to the first minister more like works of abstract art than actual living beings. They had slender, tubular bodies that rose three-quarters of a meter taller than Asarem. A row of eight long, lissome pink arms circled their upper frames, and they walked on eight shorter but no less nimble legs, which seemed to intertwine when they moved.

  As Asarem approached the doorway, the Eav’oq in the center of the group turned toward her, spinning in place as crisply as a child’s top. The first minister recognized Itu from the gray color of his single eye, which spanned his narrow face. The other two members of the Eav’oq party, Evo and Onan, each had a soft-yellow eye, distinguishing them as female members of their species.

  Asarem stepped out onto the balcony to join her visitors. To either side of the wide platform, at an attentive but respectful distance, a pair of Militia officers, a woman and a man, accompanied the Eav’oq. Beyond the railing at the edge of the balcony, the verdant springtime panorama stretched away toward the wilderness that bordered that side of the capital city. As the summer months rapidly approached in Ashalla, the landscape had grown colorful, with clutches of wildflowers abounding like vibrant splashes of paint on a green, monochromatic canvas. The twitter of birds filled the air, as did the redolent scents of fresh growth, including the heady fragrances of nerak and kidu blossoms.

  “I am sorry for the delay,” Asarem told her guests.

  As Evo and Onan whirled where they stood to face the first minister, Itu’s eye curled up at the ends, in much the same way that a humanoid mouth formed a smile. When he spoke, he did so with a melodic voice that had a singsong quality to it. Asarem’s universal translator converted the continuous tones into more ordinary speech. “We understand that you must attend to affairs of state.” Although he eschewed any sort of a title that branded him as the leader of the Eav’oq, Itu functioned in his people’s dealing with Bajor as, at the very least, their de facto spokesman.

  “I’m afraid that a troubling, possibly dangerous situation has ari
sen,” Asarem said. “A large number of alien ships have unexpectedly entered our solar system. They refuse to respond to our attempts to speak with them, and they are heading directly toward our planet.”

  The ends of Itu’s eyes slipped down. “And you are concerned for the welfare of your people.”

  “I am,” the first minister said. “But I’m also mindful of protecting the three of you while you are visiting our world.” She signaled with a gesture to the two nearby Militia officers, who immediately strode over to her. “Major Carlien and Lieutenant Onial will escort you to a secure shelter in the foundation of this building.” Asarem looked to the red-haired Carlien Anra, who nodded her acknowledgment of the order.

  “Is there a reason you see the influx of the beings in these vessels as a potential threat,” Evo asked, “other than their unforeseen arrival and their inability or unwillingness to communicate with you?”

  “There is,” Asarem said. “We have found a report in our records that once, long ago, a squadron of such ships attacked a Bajoran colony and obliterated a city. We also believe that, prior to that incident, they destroyed two other Bajoran colonies, along with their entire populations.”

  “That is most unfortunate,” Itu said. Despite his words, he spoke in his usual unhurried, easy manner. In the three days since he and his fellow Eav’oq had first arrived on Bajor, Asarem had grown accustomed to the tranquility with which they comported themselves. “Perhaps it would be wise for us to contact our own people to apprise them of the situation.”

  Although the first minister showed no outward sign of it, the suggestion frustrated her. She had intentionally avoided revealing that the fleet on its way to Bajor had emerged from the wormhole, which likely meant that it had passed through the Idran system. Asarem had not wanted to alarm her guests when they could do nothing to alter events, but while she felt justified enough to omit such a fact, she would not lie or even dissemble when engaged directly about it.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible at the moment,” she said. “The communications relay in the Gamma Quadrant is not currently functioning. It might have been disrupted by the arriving fleet.”

  “Are you saying that the alien ships have come through the Anomaly?” Onan asked, employing the Gamma Quadrant nomenclature for the wormhole. Despite the implications of the question, Onan offered her words as calmly as her comrades had.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Asarem said. “I must stress that there is no indication that Idran Four has been attacked. In fact, the fleet began coming through the wormhole not long after the Starfleet crew on Deep Space Nine lost contact with the communications relay. If an offensive was launched against your people before that, then we would have expected to receive some sort of distress signal from them.”

  “But they could be under attack right now,” Evo noted. Amazingly, her comportment remained serene.

  “I’m afraid that’s so,” Asarem admitted. “Ships are continuing to enter our system through the wormhole, but as soon as it is safe to do so, Captain Kira intends to send some of her crew to your world. In the meantime, since we can do nothing about Idran Four, I must insist that my security team takes you to safety.”

  “Yes, of course,” Itu said.

  Asarem walked back into the reception room from the balcony and started toward the tall doors that led to the atrium of the building. Tey fell in beside her. The Eav’oq followed, the skitter of their many-legged steps punctuated by the booted footfalls of the Militia officers accompanying them. By the time the first minister reached the doors, though, Itu had stopped. Asarem turned back toward him, as did the rest of the group.

  “Is something wrong, Itu?” she asked.

  “You told us that the ships entering your system belong to ‘historical aggressors,’ ” Itu said. “Does that mean you know who they are?”

  “We know almost nothing about them beyond their past acts, and even much of that is speculation,” Asarem said. “But they appear to be a race of religious extremists.”

  Itu’s eye narrowed, almost to the point of disappearing from his face. He looked to Evo and Onan, and then back to Asarem. “Who are the aliens?”

  “They call themselves the Ascendants.”

  The air of calm about the three Eav’oq vanished. Evo spoke to Itu so rapidly, and perhaps using so many colloquialisms, that Asarem’s translator failed to interpret most of her words. She also gesticulated wildly, her eight arms a tangle of confused movement. Onan looked on, shifting her weight not just from side to side, but onto each of her many legs, lending her body a circular motion. Itu’s eye remained squinting and straight.

  Asarem waited only a moment before she attempted to settle the Eav’oq. She called out their names, until they at last gave her their attention again. “Forgive us,” Itu said. “We are understandably agitated. You are aware that our culture was once almost completely destroyed.”

  “Yes.” Asarem did not know the details of the account, only that the Eav’oq had been driven nearly to extinction, which had caused the survivors of their race to shift the location of their solar system and to go into hiding for millennia. She inferred from the context what Itu would next tell her.

  “The Ascendants were responsible,” he said.

  Even expecting to hear that, Asarem felt sick to her stomach. It suggested that Idran IV and the Eav’oq might already be under siege. It also made it more difficult to imagine that the fleet on its way to Bajor had peaceful intentions.

  “I will make sure that Captain Kira sends assistance to Idran Four as soon as it’s possible to do so,” promised the first minister. “In the meantime, it is all the more imperative that we get the three of you to a secure location.”

  “No,” Itu said. “It is not.”

  The sudden declaration surprised Asarem, and it also vexed her. Because of the potential danger ahead, she felt it necessary for her to deal directly with the Eav’oq visitors, but she didn’t have time to do so for more than a few minutes; far more important responsibilities awaited. “I’m sorry,” she told Itu, “but I’m going to have to insist.”

  “First Minister,” Itu said, and finally his eye opened again. “The Eav’oq were brutalized by the Ascendants. We have seen firsthand the ferocity and single-mindedness of their religious belief. With their return, I fear for the survival not just of my people, but also for the inhabitants of Bajor. I want to help.”

  “I appreciate that,” Asarem said, and she meant it, but she also perceived time slipping away as the Ascendant fleet drew ever closer. “If there was some way in which I thought you could help, I would avail myself of it.”

  “You must instruct your people to disavow their religion,” Itu said. “They needn’t do it in their hearts, but outwardly, they must assert their atheism. In that way, they can rob the Ascendants of their motivation.”

  The first minister shook her head. “If only it were that simple,” she said. “Even if we could speak to every person on Bajor before the Ascendants reach us, there would be no way to hide the evidence of our true beliefs: our books, our artwork, our temples, all of the institutions dedicated to the Prophets . . . the Orbs. There isn’t sufficient time to mask it all, but I don’t think it would matter if we could; there will always be Bajorans who will refuse under any circumstances to deny their faith.” Asarem remembered too well courageous men and women standing up to Cardassian oppression during the Occupation, proclaiming their trust in the Prophets even as they were tortured to death. “Our beliefs are too much a part of who we are as individuals and as a society for us to be able to conceal them.”

  “Of course,” Itu said. “I understand. The Eav’oq almost perished because we mantled our civilization with a deep awareness and appreciation of the Siblings. When the Ascendants came, we did not think to veil our knowledge, but if we had attempted it, I can see now that we would not have succeeded.”

  “Then, please, accompany my officers to safety.” Though they said nothing, both Evo and Onan gave the
impression of agreeing with the first minister. They looked to Itu as though waiting for his approval. He did not give it.

  “First Minister, there may yet be something that I can do,” he said.

  “Itu—” Asarem started, but the Eav’oq spoke over her.

  “When the Ascendants reach Bajor,” Itu said, “let me meet with them.”

  * * *

  Kira’s desperate attempts at contact and her empty threats had ceased, but transmissions from Archquesters in the Ascendant armada besieged Iliana Ghemor. Initially, she ignored them, making note only of the particular ship from which each message originated, but not listening to any of them. Ghemor pushed the Grand Archquester’s vessel to its top sublight speed, confident that no other ship—whether Ascendant or Starfleet—could overtake her. Her long-range scans of Bajor revealed freighters and transports in orbit, and coming and going, but no starships of any consequence with which she would have to contend.

  When aft sensors showed that the entire armada had made it through the wormhole—thousands of vessels trailed after Ghemor—she at last surveyed some of the incoming messages. In the musical speech of the Ascendants, Ghemor heard many emotions: anger, confusion, fear, disappointment. Regardless of what they felt, most of the Archquesters seemed to believe that the armada had followed the Fire into the Fortress of the True, and then out of it. They posed questions about what had happened, and why, and they sought clarification and direction. Many wanted to speak to Grand Archquester Votiq.

  Ghemor had anticipated such reactions, and she had planned for them. She opened a channel to the armada—not just to the Archquesters, but to all of the knights. “To my Ascendant followers,” she said, imbuing her voice with the gravitas that had become a part of her since her encounter with the Prophets—or the Unnameable, or whatever the entities in the wormhole called themselves—for hadn’t those mysterious, powerful beings set her on the path that would ultimately lead to her vengeance? They had, and she would complete her journey, wielding her form of justice as though it had been divinely sanctioned.