Objective: Bajor Page 7

  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.

  CHAPTER 9

  AT THE MINE site in Formax, the blasts of energy burned the ground, searing through hundreds of feet of soil to the rich mineral deposits below. Several hundred miners were incinerated in the deadly beams of light, the few grams of metal in their vaporized bodies being added to the metals being siphoned off into space. The ground cracked, shook, and collapsed under the barrage of energy. The old tunnels collapsed, and more people died in the devastation. The mine supervisor barely had the chance to scream before she, too, burned away. She had been standing three miles from the impact point, but the bare shadow she left on the desiccated soil vanished as the earth trembled and imploded in the wake of the attack.

  Similar scenes of devastation occurred all across the surface of Darane IV as the planet died.

  Worin was beyond panic now. His mind had almost overloaded on mental and emotional pain. His world was being murdered around him, and there was nothing he could do about it. The various monitor screens showed devastaton after disaster all over the peaceful planet he had governed only this morning. The high-intensity energy beams were tearing the world apart, as they sought out metals, minerals, and anything else the invaders wanted. Worin wasn't even bothering to try and cope with the death tolls, because thousands were added every minute. Some died in the barrage, others when the superheated atmosphere burned them down. Others died in the earthquakes caused by the beams.

  So few had been able to escape this incredible devastation. Whatever spaceworthy craft there had been on Darane had been filled to capacity and sent off into space. The invaders would probably massacre the survivors as they fled, but perhaps some would stand a chance of escape.

  And, hopefully, somehow, extract revenge for this genocide.

  "We have to get out of here!" one of his aides screamed, barely audible over the terrifying roaring outside. The air that had boiled away into space had created a vacuum. Hurricane-level winds whirled across the planet as nature tried to fill that void. The winds were ripping apart what few buildings and structures the earthquakes and energy rays hadn't managed to destroy.

  "And go where?" Worin yelled back. "There's nowhere left to escape to. And no ships left to flee in."

  The aide was beyond thinking logically, however. He simply bolted for the closest door, running for his life. For a second, Worin considered following him. But what was the point? Out there or in here, he would still die. It didn't matter any longer.

  There was the familiar hum of a transporter beam, and for a brief second hope flared within the minister. Somehow, they were being rescued! Maybe it was the Federation at last, or—

  His heart fell as he realized that the targets of the transporters were not the survivors. In a shimmer of light, blocks of computers, equipment and anything still intact were vanishing.

  The invaders weren't content to destroy the inhabitants of Darane IV. They were even robbing the corpses as they died. . . .

&nbs
p; "No!" Worin screamed, shaking a futile fist at the sky. It was pure white now, as energy bolts arched from horizon to horizon, dismantling everything in their path. The ground shook beneath his feet, sending him reeling against one of the now-blank walls. In a shower of exploding glass and mortar, that collapsed. Worin's dead body was briefly buried under half a ton of brick and steel before the energy arcs played across it, vaporizing everything.

  "Heart of the Prophets," breathed Marel. His mind refused to function as he saw the destruction of his homeworld. "This is genocide. . . ." Sections of the crust of Darane were breaking apart as he watched. The inner magma of the planet surged free, spurting up in great geysers of boiling rock. "Nothing could survive that. . . ."

  He finally broke his gaze from the screen and stared into the shocked faces of his bridge crew. They were even more affected than he was, he realized. Every one of them had lost families, friends, and neighbors in the holocaust. As Darane seethed, cracked, and bubbled, everyone and everything they knew must surely have perished.

  Marel tried to concentrate. The intruder was still sucking the last dregs of whatever it wished. The energy fires were still blazing, but there was no atmosphere left to conduct the great discharges any longer. Incandescent blasts continued to rip through the heart of Darane.

  "Enough!" he announced. It was impossible to help his world any longer, but perhaps it was not too late to extract some measure of vengeance. Turning to his first officer, he ordered, "Set course for the closest of those portals you discovered on the intruder. Maximum speed." Turning to his engineering officer, he added, "I want all warp drives to be overrun. Throw the damn dampers away. And I want the containment fields down-powered."

  None of them had to ask him what he meant. And, thankfully, not one of them questioned his orders. As they moved to obey, he saw only the desire for revenge in their otherwise bleak eyes.

  Marel collapsed into his seat, drained of everything save the desire for revenge. Perhaps his phasers could do no damage to the alien craft. Well, they'd see what a starship with its warp core breached might do when it crashed into the intruder. . . .

  Satisfaction filled Dron's being as he watched the projection of the target planet that hovered over the conference table. As anticipated, the energy beams were boiling away the much-needed metals and chemicals of the dying world. The comp was scrolling facts and figures faster than anyone could possibly read as the tally was taken of the resources obtained. The transporter rooms were taking all the intact machinery they could find for future salvage. And the botanical receptors had rescued billions of units of plants and edibles.

  The processing of this world was going well.

  Dron glanced up as he realized one of the messengers was standing beside him. "What is it?" he asked, annoyed at being disturbed in this moment of triumph. "Can you not see that I am busy?"

  "My apologies, Grand Master," the female answered, bowing her head obsequiously. "There is a female at the chamber door who insists she must speak with Hivemaster Tork with great urgency."

  "Send the fool away," snapped Raldar, looking up from the projection. "You know we are not to be disturbed whilst in session."

  "Wait," Dron ordered, as the messenger started to turn. "This female—would her name be Sahna?"

  The messenger bowed again. "Indeed."

  Dron smiled slightly. "Then by all means you had better pass on her message to Hivemaster Tork," he told her. "And tell the Hivemaster that he is excused his duties for the moment to speak with her." The messenger bowed again and hurried away. Dron smiled once again, this time at Raldar. "She has no doubt come to tell Tork that she has been assigned to Team Two," he explained. "Tork will then need to save her." Dron tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the edge of his shell. "He will have to come to ask for a favor from me. I have been watching him as this … recovery operation has been taking place. He did not look happy. I have a strong suspicion that he will attempt to block our next procurement. If he is in our debt, however, this will prevent him from an outcry."

  Raldar inclined his head. "A wise plan," he murmured.

  "I know," Dron agreed. He turned his attention back to the holographic projection. "Now, to business. I see that the operation is thirty percent accomplished—in so short a time. I think we shall have to publicly commend Boran and his team for their magnificent work."

  The rape of Darane continued.

  "We're approaching Darane Four now," Dax called from her console. "We can drop out of warp in two minutes."

  "Understood," Sisko answered. He had been monitoring all the information he could from Bajor; all transmissions from Darane had died out more than twenty minutes earlier. None of what had come through, though, was good. It sounded as though the invader was annihilating everything and everyone in its way. Sisko slapped his comm badge. "Sisko to O'Brien. Chief, tell me something I want to hear."

  O'Brien's voice floated back. Sisko could hear the strain in it. "Well, the good news is that shields are up to eighty percent, Captain. The bad news is that it'll be at least two more hours before Fontana and I can get the weapons systems back on-line. The circuit boards here were really riddled."

  "All right, Chief," Sisko said, trying not to sound too disappointed or worried. "I know you're doing your best. Can you return to the bridge? I know I'm going to need you here. Sisko out." He stared at the screen thoughtfully, weighing his options. With the shields almost back up to strength, at least they had some protection against whatever the aliens were using as weaponry. But without firepower, they weren't going to be able to sway the course of the battle much.

  Which left diplomacy—if that had a chance of working. If he couldn't make the aliens—listen, then there would be little option but to run for cover, tail between his legs. And he hated that option. It would look as if he were abandoning his responsibilities, and the situation was appalling enough without that.

  Dax glanced around from the navigation console. "Approaching Darane," she reported. Even she looked tense.

  "Full impulse," Sisko ordered, focusing all his thoughts on what was about to happen.

  Dax's hands flew across the panel, and there was the subtle shift in engine thrumming that signaled change. "Full impulse," she reported. "Switching main screen."

  All eyes on the bridge were drawn to the screen as it sprang to life. There was a collective gasp of horror at what they all witnessed.

  Darane was virtually invisible, with the intruder vessel draped about it. Bolts of celestial lightning ravaged the smoking, blackened core of the murdered planet. About thirty percent of its mass was gone, either to the ship or boiled off into space.

  Sisko managed to swallow and called out, "Life signs?"

  Julian, looking pale and shaken, managed to turn back to his station. His fingers shook as he fought to gather readings. "On the planet … none," he answered, his voice haunted. "I can't get any readings from the intruder."

  "I'm picking up several hundred ships," Kira called from her post. With weaponry off-line, she was staffing the science station with Julian. "Most of them are fleeing the planet. Hard to say how many survivors made it, but there can't be a whole lot."

  "There's still some fighting going on," Odo added. "I'm reading eight alien vessels, unfamiliar configuration. And three … Bajoran craft."

  "On screen," Sisko ordered. Almost anything had to be better than watching the destruction of Darane. The picture shimmered and was replaced by one of four of the alien's dartlike craft speeding toward two of the defenders. As Sisko watched, he heard the turbolift door hiss open.

  "Bloody hell." That was O'Brien's voice.

  The first two alien ships caught up with one of the Daranian ships. The lone vessel was pouring everything it could into phaser power, but the shields of the attackers held firm. As the bridge crew watched, the two aliens passed on either side of the Daranian ship, which seemed to simply disintegrate into dust as they passed.

  "Chief, what are they using?" Sisko demanded.<
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  O'Brien was already at the closest sensor post, striving to get readings. "Give me a minute, Captain," he said. "Two new weapons in two weeks …"

  Sisko dragged his eyes away from the screen. "Dax," he said grimly. "Try and raise the invaders' ship. I have to try and talk to them."

  "Got it," O'Brien said, with a trace of satisfaction in his voice. "I've been trying to figure out what they were doing since we got the first pictures of the battle from Bajor," he explained. "I had an idea, but my readings just confirmed it."

  "So, what is it?" growled Sisko impatiently.

  "Monofilament."

  "What?"

  O'Brien spread his hands, fingers extended. "Monofilament," he repeated. "Wire only a few microns thick—virtually invisible and undetectable. But aligned molecules. The result is an incredibly tiny thread that can cut through anything at all with virtually no resistance. These aliens have made a sort of web out of it, stretched between two of their ships. They just fly past their target and the monofilament slices it apart."

  Kira scowled. "But why won't shields stop it?"

  "Because it's too thin," O'Brien explained. "It's probably out of the shields' sensor range. It's only a couple of atoms thick, and no shields I know of can stop a couple of atoms from getting through."

  "Can ours?" asked Odo.

  O'Brien snorted. "Not even at full strength. And we've only got eighty-two percent right now."

  "That's not very reassuring," Odo answered.

  "It's the best I can do," O'Brien informed him. "But I have reconfigured the sensors to detect the nets."

  Kira looked thoughtful. "Now we know why the enemy attack only in pairs. They need two anchors for the monofilament, to keep it tense."

  "Right," O'Brien agreed. "It's fantastic technology.

  There have been experiments with the stuff before, but nobody's been able to stabilize monfilaments that thin. They generally just break apart." He shook his head admiringly. "I'd love to take a peek at how they do it. They're marvelous engineers."