Objective: Bajor

by John Peel

There was nobody visible at first as he edged his way across the deck, carefully avoiding stepping on anything. It might only be junk, or it might be vital to the repair of his ship. There was no way to tell. As he approached the navigation console, he finally saw a pair of legs sticking out from under the mess.

  "Chief?" he asked, trying not to startle the engineer.

  "Mmff," came a reply, and then the legs slid out. It was quite obvious that this wasn't the chief from the contours that emerged even before the good-looking blond woman's face appeared. Technician Fontana removed the laser driver from her mouth. "Sorry, Captain," she said with a grin. "It's just me."

  Sisko smiled back at her, and gestured around the bridge. "Tell me that this isn't as bad as it looks."

  "You want me to lie to you?" she asked bluntly. She brushed hair from her face, making another smudge that joined the dozen or so already there. "It's not too good, sir." She pointed over to the science console. "I think the chiefs over there," she said. "Unless the damn thing's swallowed him up. And that wouldn't surprise me."

  "Keep it down out there," a cross voice called from the indicated station. "I'm trying to concentrate." There was a flash and a curse, and then O'Brien's head emerged from behind a stack of wafer chips. "Bloody Nora," he snapped, shaking his right hand. "That hurt." He vanished again under the console.

  Sisko raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Fontana. "Has he been like this long?" he asked, sympathetically.

  "All my shift," she replied, grinning slightly. "He's a walking curse, if you ask me, Captain."

  "Then you won't mind if I take him out of here?"

  "Mind? I'll remember you in my will." She grinned wider. "Assuming the chief doesn't murder me before I can write it."

  Nodding, Sisko crossed the deck with exaggerated care. "Chief," he said in his sternest voice. "Come on out of there."

  O'Brien scowled back at him from the open panel. "Look, Captain, I'm kind of busy," he complained. "Can't whatever it is wait?"

  "No." Sisko glowered at him. "According to Dr. Bashir, you've worked four straight shifts without more than a cup or two of coffee. I'm ordering you to take a break with me. Come on."

  O'Brien snorted. "Typical of him to cause trouble. And exaggerate. It was four cups of coffee." He spread his hands in appeal. "Look, sir, I've really got a lot of work to do here, and I—"

  "—and you're getting on your staff's nerves," Sisko finished for him. "Chief, I really do appreciate the overtime you're putting in, but you're so tired you're making mistakes. Take a break, get a meal, and then sleep." He held up a hand to stifle the chief's protest. "That's an order. Do you want me to have Odo lock you up in the brig to enforce it?"

  With a sigh, O'Brien laid down his tools and clambered slowly to his feet. "No," he said. "He'd enjoy that far too much." He wiped off his hands on the seat of his pants. "And now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry." He looked over at Lieutenant Fontana. "Will you be okay on your own for a while?"

  "Okay?" Fontana gave him a wide smile. "I'll be deliriously happy, Chief. My ears are still tingling from your last bout of swearing."

  "I was that bad, eh?" O'Brien managed a rueful grin. "Well, don't repair too much while I'm gone. I don't want the captain to think I'm dispensable."

  "No promises." Fontana winked at the chief, then vanished back under the console.

  "They're a good crew, Chief," Sisko said, as he led the way gingerly back to the elevator shaft. "They'll be fine while you get some rest."

  "I know that," O'Brien said proudly. "It's just that there's so much to be done," he added, his shoulders sagging.

  "And so much you've already accomplished," Sisko pointed out. "How much of the Defiant is back on-line?" The elevator doors hissed shut as they stepped in.

  "Well, we've restored life support and power to most decks." O'Brien scowled. "Navigation should be finished in a few hours. Fontana's doing wonders there. But weapons are still off-line, and the shields are balking a bit. They took the biggest hit from that Calderisi weapon." He shook his head. "I still can't figure out quite what it was, but it did a remarkable job of burning out the command systems, even through the shields."

  "Well, Starfeet's sent the Hood out to the Calderisi homeworld to ask some rather pointed questions," Sisko told him. "We may have some answers for you soon. No pressure, Chief but how long before the Defiant is back up to strength again?"

  The chief shrugged. "Hard to say. We can have her flying again by the end of the day, as long as you don't want phasers or more than minimal shields. Beyond that … Well, I'm hoping another two days, but there's always something to bollix matters up, isn't there?"

  Sisko nodded. "I've always felt that entropy was the fundamental ruling force in the universe," Sisko admitted. "Still, it's been remarkably quiet these past three days. Maybe it'll stay peaceful till you're finished?"

  "I wouldn't want to take odds on that," O'Brien muttered. "I doubt even Quark would."

  "Probably not," agreed Sisko. "Now, where would you like to eat? My treat." He grinned. "There's a new Bajoran restaurant opened on the Promenade that does heavenly bat-bird stew …"

  Despair gnawed within Sahna as she exited the Determination Center. She gripped her comp fiercely, its message burned into her brain. Theoretically, the Determination was supposed to be the happiest day of her life; she now had a career and was an adult. She could become One, could have a voice in the day-to-day running of the Hive, and could petition the Hivemasters in cases of grievance.

  Except, of course, in the one case that was causing her grief.

  Sahna stumbled away from the Center, not paying attention to the others about her who were heading in or out themselves. She stumbled against several of them, too numb to really care, and they were rejoicing too much to notice her.

  One of the ones she bumped into grabbed her suddenly. Sahna started to mumble an apology, and then she managed to focus on the face of the one who held her. "Oh. Harl."

  "I am overjoyed to see you, too," Harl replied, his lip twisted sardonically. "I take it that you have had your Determination, and that you are so delirious with happiness that you are not paying attention to the paths you take?"

  "I have had my Determination, yes," she agreed. "But I have never been so unhappy."

  "What is wrong?" he asked. "Did they make you a sewage worker? A sex provider?" He managed a wide smile. "I could live with that Determination, though I doubt Tork could."

  "No," Sahna answered, too upset to be either amused or offended. "I am to be an astronomer."

  Harl grimaced. "Oh. That is bad news. But it is what you expected, isn't it?"

  "Actually, it's also what I wanted," she agreed. "I prayed to the First Hive for this Determination. I have always longed to be an astronomer. I love to observe the stars."

  "Sooner you than me," Harl answered. "The only thing I'd see if there was a window open to the void would be my last meal hurtling forth from my mouth." He placed an arm gently on the edge of her shell. Technically, since she was now an adult and he was not, he was transgressing. But at this moment, neither of them cared too much, and she was grateful for his touch. "So, what is so wrong about getting what you wished for?"

  "Because I have been appointed to Team Two."

  "Oh." Harl was sometimes foolish, but he was not stupid; he knew what the problem was. "And Tork is on Team One," he observed. "That is a problem." Then he twitched his nose derisively. "Still, now he is a Hivemaster. I am sure that he will have you reassigned."

  Sahna looked at him in shock. "He would not do that!"

  Harl grunted. "Why not?"

  "Because …" Sahna couldn't believe that Harl was asking such a thing. "You know very well that the Determination is never wrong. The comp assesses our skills, our personalities, and our abilities and places us where we shall be most fulfilled and most productive."

  "I know nothing of the sort," he told her bluntly. "You know nothing of the sort. You're just repeating what we've been tau
ght. For all we know, the Determination could be wrong any number of times, only nobody complains about it because it is supposed to be infallible."

  Sahna stared at him in utter bewilderment. She had known for years now that Harl was a rebel, questioning most things, but she had never dreamed that he would go this far. "The Determination is the basis for our society," she said, struggling to keep her head and temper in check. "It cannot be wrong."

  "No wonder you'll make a good astronomer," Harl said sarcastically. "Your brains are already out there among the stars instead of down on the deck where they belong. Look," he tried to explain, "if I told you that the stars were simply illusions, that there was nothing outside the Hive, and they were just illuminations placed there to test my belief, what would you say?"

  "That you were simply repeating the Six Hundred and Fourth Hive's heresies," she snapped back. "Nobody seriously believes that nowadays."

  "But they did then," he pointed out. "And with just as little proof for their beliefs as you have for the infallibility of the Determination. You are a scientist, Sahna, and you have a good brain. So use that brain. Ask questions. Don't simply accept what you have been told: demand proof of it."

  Sahna shook her head. "I would make a poor revolutionary," she replied. "I shall have to leave that to you. Meanwhile, I have to break the sad news to Tork." She stared at her friend. "I know you think he will abuse his power to have me reassigned, but I do not believe he will. He is too moral for that."

  Harl snorted again. "Too moral to change a stupid system in order to be One with the female he loves? I would call that too stupid."

  Not offended, Sahna managed a weak smile. "And if he did have my Determination changed, you would call that corrupt."

  "Yes," Harl agreed. "It's nice being a rebel; you can always find justifications for anything you wish to believe in. Even if those reasons contradict something else you believe in. No one expects me to be consistent—merely obnoxious." He stroked the edge of her shell. "And, despite my temper, I do care for both you and Tork. I think he is a fool, but he probably is an honest one. Just this once, I would be happy if he did abuse his power to keep you with him. You belong together." His comp beeped. "And I belong in the Center," he added. "I have been summoned for my Determination also."

  That did cause Sahna to smile briefly. "Which you do not believe in. So why are you here?"

  "Because until I have passed it, I am forbidden to communicate with mature females like yourself. And I do not wish that to continue."

  Sahna looked at him fondly. "I wish you success," she informed him. "What do you believe you will become?"

  Smiling, he started away. "I don't know. Do you think there are any positions for revolutionaries? Anyway, with luck, maybe I'll get to be a sex provider." He shook his tail at her, and vanished into the crowd again.

  Feeling slightly better for having talked with him, Sahna returned to thinking about her woes. Harl was wrong to doubt the Determination. He had to be. It was just that Harl liked to question everything. He didn't really have any doubts as to the process. He couldn't have. It was the basis of their civilization.

  Summoning all of her resolve, Sahna tapped the code for Tork's comp into her own. She had to meet with him as soon as possible to inform him of her changed status. She had no idea what he would say, but she knew that he would be deeply saddened.

  "Hivemaster Tork is not available," the comp informed her.

  He had never refused a call from her before! Sahna stared at the comp in confusion. "But why not?" she asked. "Is he ill?"

  "No," the comp replied. "He is in session with the other Hivemasters. It is forbidden to interrupt them."

  "Oh." Sahna knew what was happening now. It was what she had tried to tell Tork the other day, before he had insisted on staring into space and became ill. She had been doing her observations and knew that the Hive was close to its target. Somewhere ahead of them in space was the world that would provide them with everything they needed to implement the Great Design—and the moment when she would lose Tork forever.

  CHAPTER 6

  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 mew
ling 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."