Kasidy just stared at her husband. He was right, of course, and she knew it. She had channeled her anger and frustration at Ben because she could, because it gave her an outlet for her to vent her voluble emotions. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just . . .” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to; her husband would know what she felt because he felt it too.
“We’re not giving up,” Ben said. “The Glant—”
“The Glant?”
“That’s what they call themselves,” Ben said. “We’ve seen that they have some powerful weapons, but while they’re different from ours, they’re not formidable. They have the energy bolts that destroy the fabric of space-time, but they’re not going to use that on their own world. We’ve already found a way to defend against their auditory weapon. When we’re able to use them, phasers have proven effective. On top of that, the Glant apparently do not have transporter technology, which gives us a tremendous advantage.”
“Does that mean you’re going back to their world?”
“We’re not leaving without the rest of the children,” Ben said, his voice filled with a determination Kasidy had heard many times before. “Right now, the crew is keeping the Robinson away from their ships while we scan their world. We need to learn how they’re reacting to our incursion, how they’re changing their defenses, if they’re moving the children. Then we’ll formulate a new plan of attack. Once we—”
A comm signal interrupted Ben. “Sickbay to Captain Sisko.” Kasidy recognized the voice of the ship’s chief medical officer.
“Sisko here. Go ahead, Doctor.”
“We’ve completed our examination of all the rescued children,” Kosciuszko said. “Physically, they’re all fine. A few bumps and bruises here and there, but no significant injuries. Most are showing signs of post-traumatic stress, but we’ve released many of them to their families so that they can return to a familiar setting and receive emotional support. Doctor Althouse and her staff are speaking to the parents about the best ways to handle the situation. The counselor has also cleared several of the older children for debriefing, knowing you’d want to learn as much as you could about the aliens. She wants you to observe those sessions.”
“Understood,” Ben said. “Tell the counselor I’ll meet her in her office shortly. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Kosciuszko said. “How’s your arm?”
Ben glanced down to where the left sleeve of his uniform had been cut away. His eyebrows rose, as though he’d forgotten about whatever had happened to him down on the strange alien world. A nasty purplish scar arced across the muscle there. Kasidy had noticed it when she’d first entered Ben’s ready room.
“It’s not the prettiest surgical procedure I’ve ever had, but it seems to be holding up,” Ben said. He flexed his arm and rotated his shoulder, apparently putting his words to the test.
“Best I could do on a runabout while also starting examinations on almost thirty children,” Kosciuszko said. “We can mend the scar tissue later.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Ben said. “Sisko out.” As the comm channel closed, Ben stood up and yanked his uniform tunic over his head, then headed into the alcove leading to his refresher.
“What happened down there?” Kasidy asked. “Are you all right?”
“One of the beings shot me with a projectile weapon,” Ben called back to her from around the corner. He spoke as though getting wounded in battle didn’t matter at all, as though such dangers had become second nature to him.
And why wouldn’t they? she thought. After everything that Ben’s been through in his career, in his life.
Ben reappeared with a fresh uniform tunic. He pulled it on and walked back over to her. He started to say something, but then the comm system signaled again.
“Bridge to Captain Sisko,” said the ship’s first officer.
“Sisko here. What is it, Commander?”
“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Rogeiro said.
“Hailed?” Ben said. “By who?”
“The Glant.”
Ben turned on his heel and headed for the door. “I’m on my way,” he said. He looked back at Kasidy, and she expected him to tell her to go back to their quarters, and that he would contact her as soon as he could. Instead, he said, “Come with me.”
Kasidy jumped out of her seat and followed him onto the bridge.
• • •
Sisko strode to the center of the bridge. In his peripheral vision, he saw his wife take a position off to one side, along the port ramp. Sisko nodded to Uteln at the tactical station, and the commander operated his console. A voice issued from the comm system.
“I am Voranesk of the Glant,” it said, its character distinctly unisex. “Contacting Captain Benjamin Sisko of the United Federation of Planets.” It uttered Sisko’s title, name, and the government he represented essentially as one word, as though the speaker did not understand the distinct parts of speech, treating the entire grouping of words as a single identifier.
“On-screen,” Sisko said, and he faced the main viewer.
The distant view of the Dyson section hanging in front of the stars disappeared, replaced by a strange image, though not one inconsistent with what the captain had so far witnessed of the Glant. He saw a backdrop composed of small stones and wooden dowels. In front of it stood something Sisko might not have distinguished as a living being, or even as a functioning robot, had he not already seen so many members of the Glant—no two of them even remotely alike. It resembled a cluster of balloons attached by flexible metallic necks to a bulky, squarish body, from which emerged half a dozen tentacles, arranged with curious asymmetry. Each of the three balloon-like projections had shaded areas that suggested to the captain some kind of sensory organs.
“This is Captain Sisko. Are you prepared to release the rest of our children?” He saw no reason not to come directly to the point.
“You cannot be here,” Voranesk said. When it spoke, a cavity formed at the top of its boxy body, growing and vanishing with a fluid motion. “Your explorations are [untranslatable]. You must go.”
“We will not leave here without our children,” Sisko insisted. “If you return them to us, we will leave your system at once.”
Voranesk’s balloon-like heads fanned out, shifting away from one another. “We cannot return what we do not have!” it said, its words loud and rushed. “You must go. Your explorations harm us. They are [untranslatable].”
In her chair at the operations station, Plante spun around to face Sisko. “Captain,” she said, her tone urgent.
“Voranesk, stand by,” Sisko said. A tone indicated that Uteln had muted the signal with the Glant representative. “What is it?”
“They don’t understand the concept of children,” Plante said.
“What?” Sivadeki said from the conn. “How could that be? In order for a species to survive, it has to reproduce.”
“And if a species reproduces, how could its members not understand the idea of children?” Sisko said, following Sivadeki’s logic. The captain glanced back over his shoulder and nodded. Uteln restored the communications link. “Voranesk, we do not wish to explore your world. We—”
“You did explore,” Voranesk said, still agitated. “Many singles saw you. You ended the existence of eight of our number.” Its balloon-shaped heads came together and dipped forward. When it spoke again, its words came more softly and more slowly. “It is a terrible tragedy. Our loss is irreplaceable.”
Sisko pondered the universal translator’s use of the phrase ended the existence of, rather than killed or murdered. “We visited your world and fought against your people only because we had no other choice,” the captain tried to explain. “We wanted our—” Sisko stopped, not wanting to use the word children again. “Your people attacked our ship and stole from us,” he continued. “We wanted to get back what you stole.”
The balloon projections bobbed downward and then back up. They twisted on their metallic necks, first to
the left, then to the right, as though Voranesk looked somewhere off-screen for guidance. It took more than a few seconds before it responded. “Do you speak of Gist?” it finally asked. “In taking our Gist, you undermined our efforts to actualize the next Issuance.” Again, its heads huddled together and dipped forward, a movement from which Sisko inferred a sense of sadness. “Your explorations ended the existence of eight of our number, an unspeakable crime, but then you interfered with an Issuance . . . a monstrous act of which it is almost impossible to conceive.”
Voranesk appeared even more distraught over the Robinson crew interfering with an “Issuance”—whatever that meant—than with the deaths they had suffered. Sisko didn’t understand, though he could only conclude that the Glant referred to whatever the captain’s away team had put a halt to in the chamber where they’d found the children. “Voranesk, I do not comprehend what you are telling me,” Sisko said. “And I don’t think that you understand all that I am saying.”
“Your communication is . . . perplexing,” Voranesk agreed. “So are your explorations.”
Sisko wondered how they could move forward. At that moment, more than anything, it seemed clear that both sides would benefit from an improvement in their ability to communicate. “Voranesk, I want to understand your people, and I want you to understand my people,” Sisko said. “I want a peaceful resolution to this situation. I’m sure you must want that too.”
“Peaceful, yes,” Voranesk said, though the captain could not tell whether it agreed with his sentiment or simply indicated its grasp of the word. “No more ending our existence. No more interfering with an Issuance.”
“To that end, can we meet?” Sisko asked. In the corner of his eye, he saw Kasidy whip her head around, taking her gaze from the main viewscreen and placing it squarely on him.
“Meet,” Voranesk repeated.
“Face-to-face,” Sisko said, hoping that the phrase translated adequately into the Glant language.
“I . . . do not know,” Voranesk said. “I must consult with my people.”
“I understand,” Sisko said. “Will you contact us again once you have done so?”
“You will not explore more while I speak with my people?” Voranesk said. Although the tone provided by the universal translator remained effectively impartial, the words conveyed an imploring posture.
“We will take no actions while we wait,” Sisko said, “as the long as the Glant also take no actions.”
“That is satisfactory.”
“Then I look forward to hearing from you,” the captain said. “Sisko out.”
• • •
From where he sat in the first officer’s position, Rogeiro spoke first, as Sisko expected he would. “If you’re going to meet with representatives of the Glant, you should do so aboard the Robinson,” the exec said. “That will give us the best chance of guaranteeing your safety.”
“My safety is immaterial,” Sisko said, still standing in the center of the bridge. He felt the burden of his wife’s presence—she would not want to hear everything he had to say, beginning with his assessment of the relative unimportance of his own well-being—but he had asked her to come to the bridge for a reason. “Our only goal right now is to retrieve the rest of the children and then to get away from the Glant.”
“Bringing members of the Glant here could provide us with leverage,” Uteln said. “If necessary, we could detain them. We could then negotiate for an exchange of prisoners.”
Sisko considered the idea. “That is a possibility,” he said. “At least, it is if the Glant submit to coming aboard the ship. Right now, they haven’t even agreed to meet.”
“I’m not particularly sanguine about any meeting that would take place on their world,” Rogeiro said. “They’ve already attacked our ship and taken the children. There’s nothing to suggest they wouldn’t imprison you if you went down there.”
“Which is exactly what you were just talking about doing to them if they agree to come aboard the Robinson,” Plante said from the ops console.
“With all due respect, Commander, we are speaking about responses to two different situations,” Uteln said. “We are merely attempting to recover our children and restore the status quo. The Glant have been aggressors, and remain so by not releasing those they’ve abducted.”
“None of that really matters now,” Sisko said. “What matters is recovering the children, and it seems to me that the best way of accomplishing that is to get as close as possible to them. Finding a diplomatic solution with the Glant would be the optimal solution, but we’ve seen little to suggest that will happen. In that case, we will once more have to use force. The Glant now know about our capabilities in terms of weapons and the transporter, so it makes sense that they will adjust their defenses accordingly. A meeting on their world will get us closer to the children, but it will also allow us to learn about the Glant and, if necessary, how best to mount another rescue operation.”
“Does that mean the meeting will be only a ruse?” Sivadeki asked.
“No,” Sisko said. “We’ll seek a diplomatic solution. Maybe all that will require is to find genuine understanding between our people and the Glant.”
“That means discovering why they did what they did,” Rogeiro said. “They obviously didn’t attack the Robinson and abduct the children for no reason.”
“And based on our discovery of that old stranded starship, it appears that they’ve been attacking vessels in the region for a long time,” Uteln said. “That might make it particularly difficult to change their minds.”
“But maybe we won’t have to do that,” Sisko said. “If we can determine why they attacked us and what they hoped to get out of it, perhaps we can find an alternative—provide the Glant with something that will satisfy them in exchange for returning the children.”
“Do you think that’s possible?” Plante asked.
“I don’t know,” Sisko said. “But it’s important to try, and that’s why I’m going to bring a first-contact team down with me.” The captain glanced over at Kasidy, intending the look itself to signal his plan to include her on such a diplomatic mission—not because she was Rebecca’s mother or his wife, but because of her training, because of her expertise.
Rogeiro raised an eyebrow, which told the captain that his first officer had concerns about the inclusion of Kasidy on the mission. Sisko assumed that the exec would have reservations about the presence of any parent with a missing child. The captain understood that concern. Given the tremendous emotional stakes, bringing the mother of a kidnapped child to meet with the Glant could be a mistake. But Sisko believed in Kasidy and her abilities. He also thought that her emotions could prove an asset, expressively demonstrating to the Glant the terrible toll their actions had exacted. Sisko just hoped that, after everything they’d been through—on Deep Space 9, on Bajor, aboard Robinson—that she still trusted him, and would accept whatever decisions he had to make.
Bajor, 2380
Tey led Orisin Dever and two of his Militia officers along the third-floor walkway. The major had arrived moments earlier, carrying with him a search warrant that the justice minister had secured from a judge. It had taken three hours, during which time Tey had kept watch on Radovan’s flat. Nobody had entered or exited the residence.
At the door, Tey stepped to the side, allowing Orisin to stand directly in front of it. Just as she had done earlier, he lifted his hand and knocked. “This is the Militia,” the major said loudly. “We have a warrant to search these premises. Open this door immediately.”
Tey did not expect a response. She’d concluded that Radovan had packed up and left—presumably with Rebecca Sisko. While Orisin waited, Tey walked the few steps to the end of the building and glanced around the corner, to where two more Militia officers stood guard. The major had stationed people on every side of the building, on the roof, and in the basement to forestall Radovan’s escape through the windows or any unforeseen exit routes.
After a m
inute had passed, Tey expected Orisin to knock again. He didn’t. Instead, he moved aside, drew his phaser, and motioned to the woman and man, whom the major had introduced as Lieutenant Tapren and Sergeant Elvem. The sergeant raised a thick, meter-long metal cylinder with a flanged front end. He held it by a set of straps along one side, while the lieutenant grabbed a second set of straps on the other. The two officers looked at each other, and when Tapren nodded, they swayed backward with the ram, then thrust it forward into the door. When the cylinder struck the hard surface, a piston inside fired, adding to the force of the impact. Pieces of wood flew as both the door and the jamb splintered.
Tapren and Elvem moved away from the doorway, setting down the ram and drawing their own phasers. Orisin darted inside, his weapon raised before him. Tey went in after him.
Inside, the major and the other officers fanned out to search the place for Radovan. Tey’s gaze immediately fell on a replicator set into the wall across from her. Panels had been removed and clusters of fiber-optic cables ran from one revealed set of circuitry to another. Along with a pile of hard-copy documents, a number of isolinear chips lay scattered on the table in front of the replicator. Tey saw that one of the chips had fallen to the floor beside a chair.
Orisin and his officers called out to one another as they verified the emptiness of a room or closet, while Tey moved to the table. She examined the top document in the stack and saw that it was Radovan’s birth record. Tey riffled through the papers, reading several at random: certification for Radovan as a transporter operator; a transfer deed for a property in Lonar Province; medical reports for Radovan Lena, Tavus’s mother; and a death certificate for Radovan Jendo, his brother.
Looking up, Tey eyed the suspiciously modified replicator. She raised her wrist comm and activated it with a touch, then instructed it to download a record of all objects generated in the flat over the past month. The most recent items concerned her, though she could not claim to be surprised: drugs, a medkit, quantities of various chemicals, and several pieces of technological equipment, including a sensor mask and a transporter inhibitor. Tey did not doubt that they had found Rebecca Sisko’s kidnapper.
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