"ROM! ROM! WHERE are you, you lazy good-for-nothing?" Quark scanned his stockroom angrily.
"Here I am, brother!" Rom popped out from behind a stack of crates, carrying a barrel of Romulan ale. "I was just—"
"Well, don't," snapped Quark. "This is no time for such frivolities. Put that thing down and listen to me."
With a grunt of relief, Rom did as he was asked. "What is it, brother?" he asked anxiously. "You look worried."
"Of course I look worried, you idiot—anyone with half a brain would be worried." He glared at Rom. "That's why you're not worried, of course." He handed across a padd. "Here, go and take inventory in storage room nine."
"Room nine?" Rom looked confused. "But you told me never to go in there!"
Quark sighed, then growled, "And now I'm telling you to go in there. Can't you do anything I tell you without argument?"
"Of course I can, brother," Rom said quickly. "Uh … isn't room nine where you store your armaments?"
"Special orders!" Quark yelled angrily. "Special orders—remember that. I've put the access code on the padd so you can get in."
Rom wisely didn't mention that he already knew it. "Of course, I get it!" he exclaimed happily. "You're going to be selling arms to the Bajorans for their upcoming war."
"How perceptive." Quark's voice dripped sarcasm. "Of course I am. Then we're getting out of here, fast."
Rom frowned. "But why, brother? Rule of Acquisition Number Thirty-Five states—"
"Don't start quoting the Rules to me!" snapped Quark. "I knew them backwards before you'd learned to stop drooling. 'War is good for business.' Rom, think for a minute—assuming it won't overload your wiring. Why is war good for business?"
After considering the question, Rom's face lit up with a smile. "Because we can sell weapons to both sides, and medical supplies to the survivors. At vastly inflated prices."
"Right." Quark replied through gritted teeth. "Now, when the Hive reaches Bajor, they aim to take the planet apart for its minerals and whatever else they need. What can we sell them that they can't just take?"
Uh … nothing?" Rom guessed.
"Right! And the Bajoran race will be wiped out, won't they? So they won't be buying anything. There's no profit to be made in genocide. And once Bajor is gone, the odds are that these aliens will swallow the station next. That's why I'm getting out of here. You can stay if you like."
Rom thought about this for a moment. "No, I think I'll come with you."
"Lucky me," Quark snapped. "Now, go and check the inventory. I'm expecting some important customers for everything there later today."
Nodding over and over again, Rom scurried away. Quark watched him go with a sigh. Then he straightened his jacket and headed back to his office to place a call. It was time to reserve seats on the first shuttle out of here after his business was concluded.
Sixteen calls later, he wound up calling Ops. The face of Lieutenant Soyka stared back at him. "Quark," the officer said. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes." The Ferengi could barely control his temper. "You can tell me why nobody wants to sell me a seat on any ship leaving this station."
"Ah." Soyka tried to look sympathetic, but failed miserably. "That would be because Captain Sisko left strict orders that you were not to leave the station."
"What?" Quark was almost apoplectic. "How dare he? He has no right to restrict my movement. I'm not a Federation citizen! I want to speak to him immediately."
Soyka shook his head. "Sorry, Quark. He's not on-station right now. But I'll tell him you called and ask him to get back to you. Okay?"
"No, it is not okay!" Quark yelled. He felt like breaking something, but the only objects close at hand were much too expensive to destroy. "Did he say why he won't let me leave?"
"Something about rats and sinking ships, I think," Soyka answered. "Again, you'd have to ask him." He paused. "Have a nice day." The screen went blank.
Quark squealed in frustration.
"We have to be ready for war," Jaro insisted. He gave Shakaar a placating look. "I understand how much you loathe the idea, but it is being forced upon us by these aliens."
Shakaar muttered something under his breath, and then moved across his room to join Jaro and Kai Winn. She was seated at the conference table with a regal expression on her face.
"I understand necessity," Shakaar replied. "And I've ordered all Bajoran forces mobilized. If the Hive starts to move in our direction, then we'll be prepared to launch an all-out strike to try and stop it. Though the Prophets know we've very little firepower, even with all of our forces combined."
"You're still thinking defensively," objected Jaro. "We have the forces now. We could strike while the Hive is still fissioning. Hit it while it is weak. We stand a better chance of destroying it now than we would if it were in orbit above our planet."
"I don't believe so," Shakaar said once again. "Besides, Captain Sisko thinks that he may be able to persuade these aliens not to attack."
"He thinks," scoffed Jaro. "And you are willing to risk the fate of Bajor on what some outworlder thinks?
"I'm more Bajoran than you are," snapped Shakaar. "I don't recall ever hearing of any of your exploits against the Cardassians during the Occupation."
Jaro shook his head slightly. "I am a man of thought, and not of crude violence."
"Really?" Shakaar snorted. "For a man of thought, you seem to have amassed quite an array of weaponry. Photon cannons, short-range strike craft …" He glared at his opponent. "And the fate of Bajor does not rest on an outsider. After all, Captain Sisko is the Emissary of whom the Prophets speak—isn't he, Kai Winn?"
Without missing a beat, Winn replied, "So many think, Shakaar. I, myself, am open-minded."
I'm sure you are, Shakaar thought. "Well, to try and foil the Emissary's plans would run counter to the Prophets' will, in that case. And none of us would wish to do that. Would we?" He glared from one to the other.
'No," Winn finally replied. "We would not." She gave Jaro a mildly reproving stare. "Perhaps our colleague has been a trifle hasty in his urgings. But it was done with the best interests of Bajor at heart, I am sure."
"Of course," agreed Shakaar. "But for the moment, I think that the best thing we can do for the safety of Bajor is to pray that Captain Sisko's plan succeeds."
"A noble sentiment," agreed Kai Winn.
Jaro simply scowled and turned away.
Sahna couldn't take her eyes away from the screen as the Defiant prepared to dock with Deep Space Nine. The station looked so small, but she had to keep reminding herself that these people didn't have the same needs or philosophy as hers. To them, she supposed, the Hive must look huge and wasteful.
Tork stood beside her, his eyes fixed on the screen also. Only the tension in his body and the haunted expression in his eyes told her that he was still under a great deal of strain. Otherwise, he was covering up his fears quite well.
"Secure docking clamps," Sisko ordered, and then: "Stand down."
The crew began to power down their systems, and Sisko rose from his command chair to join Sahna and Tork.
"I trust this experience was not too traumatic," he said politely.
"It was … tolerable," Tork managed to say. "I was not as stressed as I had feared. Perhaps it is possible, after all, to overcome this agoraphobia."
"With sufficient incentive, I believe it is," agreed Sisko. Turning to Sahna, he asked, "And how did you find the trip?"
"Exhilarating," she confessed. "To be able to move so swiftly through space, to journey from star to star in so short a time. Captain, this freedom of yours is quite intoxicating."
Sisko smiled. "I've often thought the same," he admitted. "Sometimes I just long for an excuse to get away from DS9 and out into space again. Come, let me show you to your quarters. You can relax awhile there before we travel down to Bajor and you meet with their representatives."
"Thank you," said Tork. "That would be greatly appreciated. I am a little fatigued."
Following their host, Sahna once again stared all around as they left the Defiant. Many of the corridors they traversed were quite deserted. Aside from the ugliness of the decor, she could almost imagine that she was back within the Hive again.
From time to time, though, they passed other beings. Most of them were either human or Bajoran—thanks to Major Kira's conversations on the way here, Sahna had learned that the nose ridges were quite distinctive for the Bajorans. She felt rather proud of herself for being able to distinguish between the two, given such a small distinction. Then she saw one being who was clearly neither. He was a tall, hefty-looking individual, a dull gray in color, with a bare head and a large scowl on his face. Like the humans, he wore clothing. When he was past them, Sahna asked curiously, "What kind of a being was that?"
"That?" Sisko smiled. "That was Morn. He's most likely on his way to Quark's. He spends most of his life there."
"What is a Morn?" Sahna asked.
"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure," replied the captain. "He's the only one of his kind I've ever seen."
"Oh." Sahna was astonished that there might be species on the station that Sisko knew so little about. "How many different alien races are there on Deep Space Nine?"
"It varies a lot," Sisko answered. "At least thirty, I'd say. Sometimes as many as a hundred."
Sahna looked shocked.
"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Sisko laughed. "The first hundred aliens are the hardest to spot. After that, it gets really easy."
They reached the rooms set aside for Sahna and Tork. They adjoined one another, and Sisko showed them how to open the doors and to order food and drink on the replicators. It seemed to be straightforward enough.
"I have to go to Ops now," Sisko informed them. "We'll be going on to Bajor in a few hours, if you feel up to it."
"Thank you, Captain," Tork replied. "I am certain we will be fine with a little rest."
"Good." Sisko paused in the doorway. "I've had the shutters over your windows closed," he added. "You can open them if you desire by ordering the room computer to perform the task. I thought it better that way."
Tork inclined his head. "Your thoughtfulness is most appreciated, Captain." He watched as Sisko left, and the door closed. Then he turned to Sahna. "What do you think?" he asked her.
"Think?" She wrinkled her nose in amusement. "It is hard to know what to think. There has been so much that is new. But I think that you are right about these aliens, Tork: they are a considerate and intelligent species. In fact, I like them."
"Good." Tork eased himself into one of the chairs that Sisko had had fabricated for them. "So do I. They are fascinating, are they not?"
"Yes." Sahna stroked his shell in concern. "Now, how do you feel? I know how difficult this has all been for you."
"I am as well as can be expected," Tork answered. He could not lie to her. "I do feel uncomfortable, but I know that what I do is for the best. We must correctly evaluate this planet Bajor. I could not live with myself if the world were destroyed needlessly."
Sahna was glad to hear this. "Perhaps we will be able to convince them to move," she said, gently. "They do seem to be intelligent. At least as intelligent as our ancestors were when they made the move into space. Surely they will listen to reason?"
Tork smiled at her. "They have brought us here hoping to convince us that their way is best," he reminded her.
"But they are bright," she objected. "So we may be able to win them over to our side."
Tork's snout wrinkled. "I do not feel that this Sisko is a person who changes his way so simply," he replied. "He is a decisive person, and a very strong one. I wish I possessed one-tenth his conviction and courage."
"Do not speak like that!" exclaimed Sahna. She took his hand in hers. "What you have already done took more courage than I ever hoped to see in one lifetime."
Tork smiled gently and glanced over at the shuttered window. "Perhaps you should open the portal. I know how much you hunger for the sight of space again."
She hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he answered. "I must get used to it if I am to function on Bajor. I would rather not of course, but it is my duty." He took a deep breath and steeled himself. "Open the shutter."
"Very well," Sahna crossed to the computer, and tapped the command key that Sisko had shown her. "Computer," she ordered. "Open the shutter."
"Affirmative," the computer replied. With the faintest of hisses, the steel shutter slid aside to reveal a view of the stars. From where she stood, Sahna could see a faint glow off to one edge of the window. She glanced back at Tork, who stood stiffly, his face a mask.
"I can manage," he gasped. It was clearly a struggle, but there was nothing that she could do at the moment to aid him. Sahna nodded, and then moved forward, drawn irresistibly to the glow.
As she neared the window, a new object resolved itself. She stared out across space at the globe she could see. It was small, but quite distinct. She could make out vague whiteness across the blue disc. It had to be the planet Bajor that she was observing.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.
Hanging in the blackness of space, the tiny globe seemed so small and fragile. Yet it was a planet that bore all the comforts of life—rivers and seas, flowers and animals. And people and cities.
Sahna did not care what decision the Hivemasters made about this world. She knew only one thing.
To destroy such a work of beauty would be the gravest crime that anyone could ever commit. Whatever the Masters decided, whatever even Tork decided, she was absolutely clear in her own hearts. Bajor must not be harmed.