Chapter Fifty Four

The main observation lounge of the USS Versailles, flagship of what remained of Starfleet, had seen better days. Signs of its former elegance and the characteristic creature comforts of Federation starships were still in evidence: comfortable, high-backed chairs still flanked the room's long, central chamber; a thin, pastel carpet clung to the cold floor plates; one side of the lounge still opened onto space through an expansive, unarmored viewport, but the evidence of wear was far more conspicuous. Nearly half of the long window was obscured by a slab of duranium, bolted on to succor an all-to-recent wound. The interior wall, originally designed with a display alcove for trophies, artifacts, and remembrances, had been replaced with a more sturdy metal plate, extra insurance against the possibility of another hull breach. High along the shadowed walls, fingers of carbonized scouring spidered to and from light panels and computer lines, tokens of deep, omnipresent weariness.

Nevertheless, the chamber still functioned, even if the lighting would fluctuate from time to time as newly-repaired systems deep within the bowels of the starship were reactivated, and no one had objected when it had been chosen as the site of the proceedings underway within.

Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev was a formidable woman from the moment she stepped into the room. Though physically gaunt and frail-looking, an image heightened by the shadow of gray that tinged her short, blonde hair, the Starfleet officer possessed a presence that demanded respect. Her stiff posture spoke too of the weight of authority that both kept her alert and wore on her resolve. Though reddened by lack of sleep and worry, her keen eyes still managed to convey a distinct sense of drive and purpose as she carefully scanned each of the others assembled before her.

Seated next to the admiral at the conference table that dominated the center of the room, Captain Picard had just finished a long and extraordinary tale. Indeed, were it not for the outcome of the recent battle, and the presence of many of the key figures of the captain's report, the woman would probably not have believed it. Given the circumstances, however, and the gratitude she personally felt for the simple fact that her ship, her fleet, and the planet below were still intact, she was more amenable to the explanation.

"The Zerg?" she put in after reflecting on all she had learned.

Picard nodded. "Yes. High Templar Tassadar seems to know a great deal about the creatures. He supplied their name."

Nechayev focused on the being in question, who was ensconced in the opposite corner of the room. He had remained largely motionless over the course of the meeting, but his strange, glistening eyes were ever alert.

"Well, we have something to call them now. It's more than out intelligence agents have been able to gather, at least." She shook her head wearily. "Fighting creatures that attack and consume without thought or complex motive is something completely beyond my experience. At least the Dominion would speak with us before they attacked. Even the Borg gave their ultimatum. Not these things, though. They just eat and destroy."

"Do not be deceived." As it always did at first, Tassadar's penetrating 'voice' came as a surprise to the human. "The minions of the swarm may care for nothing but carnage, but there are greater minds that drive them all. Think of them merely as beasts, and what remains of your people will not survive the horde's next onslaught."

Grudgingly, Nechayev nodded in agreement. "Yes, we determined as much not long after the first attacks. No unthinking animals could coordinate as they do, or commandeer our starships so efficiently. We simply have been unable to understand how they behave as they do. Perhaps you can provide more information on their organization and motives?"

"I am tasked with purging the Zerg wherever it may take root. I will assist as I can, but my knowledge alone will not be enough for you to turn the tide. That time past long ago."

"Nonetheless, your aid and your efforts in the defense of Bajor, are greatly appreciated, by myself, and the fleet."

With that, she turned her attention to the others assembled at the long table. Alongside Riker and Data, who had accompanied their captain off of the Republica, Councilor Leia Organa, Major Truul and one of his marines, C-3PO, and, to everyone's surprise, Captain Ryceed were seated in silent anticipation.

"And I offer you all my sincerest thanks as well, on behalf of the United Federation of Planets itself. Were it not for the intervention of the Republica, I doubt that any sentient in this system would still be left alive."

Ryceed stirred in her seat and looked as though she was about to speak, but Leia acted first, receiving the commendation with an appreciative nod.

"As a representative of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, I accept your thanks. It is our mandate to protect the lives and liberties of sentient beings of all kinds from the touch of tyranny, and though the threat you face is far different from the sort we are used to, we were obligated and willing to offer any assistance we could. Besides, from what I have heard from Captain Picard and his crew, the Federation is devoted to many of the ideals that the Alliance stands for. Helping your nation survive and flourish, as far from our home as it is, only furthers our own goals."

"Well, whatever your reasons, your assistance has not only this fleet and Bajor, but prolonged the survival of a half dozen sovereign powers and their people. And that is what we are fighting for, our very right to exist." Nechayev frowned to herself and folded her hands on front of her. "That brings me to the chief purpose of this assembly. Captain Picard's account was not clear on exactly why you, Councilor Organa, and the Republica are here. It sounds as though you have your own war to fight, and I find it hard to believe that the people of your galaxy so altruistic as to give up a resource like that of our vessel in order to escort a few wayward officers home."

Leia smiled diplomatically. "Your assessment is quite correct, Admiral. In fact, some among the Alliance's leadership did object to our traveling here, but in the end it was decided that the resources offered by a new galaxy, hidden from the Empire and populated by potential allies, were too precious to pass up."

"I'm sure it is obvious to you know that, even if it were inclined to do so, the Federation currently lacks the infrastructure and technology to be able to directly assist the Alliance against any force that could pose a serious threat to you."

Ryceed fidgeted in her seat again, an obvious enough action to draw a veiled glare from Leia before she continued.

"I realize that, and I appreciate your frankness. Nevertheless, I am still of the opinion that this galaxy is a potential boon for the Alliance. It may be the safe haven we need now more than ever, assuming of course that the wormhole that connects our two realms remains stable, or can be modified to do so. And if the Alliance was to relocate some of its operations here, it would be advantageous to have allies who are knowledgeable of the area and its inhabitants available for support and consultation. From what I have seen and heard, the Federation would be an ideal candidate."

"Quite honestly, Councilor, right now the Federation is limited to this cubic light year of space. In the past three months, we have lost more than sixty percent of our worlds, and the rest are completely at the mercy of the Zerg. Bajor, the warships in orbit, and the civilian refugee fleet we have spread out nearby are the sum assets of the Federation, the Klingon Empire, the Cardassian Union, and the Ferengi Alliance. Any other vessels have either fled into the wilds of space or refused to leave their worlds, set upon defending them to the end. There has been no contact with the Romulans since the invasion began, and we can only assume they're facing the same fate that we are. We are friendless and alone in a hostile wasteland, on the brink of total extermination; not an ally I would choose."

Riker and Picard glanced at each other gravely; both had hoped that the reports of the Federation's state they had heard from Ensign Martin and Captain Gehirn were exaggerations, but hearing the dire news from the very head of Starfleet made the conclusions unavoidable. Still, Picard was secretly impressed by the way in which Nechayev had spoken. Rather than be justifiably hopeless at the prospect of annihilation by a horde of pitiless monstrosities, she seemed hardened to the idea, and talked of it as if it were a parameter in a training simulation, simple and unavoidable. As his second in command would no doubt put it, they had all been dealt a hand, and they had to play it, no matter the odds against them.

Leia seemed to stare off into empty space for a moment before answering the Admiral's blunt statement, but when she spoke again, her words were still steady. "There is no denying that the threat that you face is a mortal one, and you are correct, a dead ally is not one at all. Since the survival of the Federation and the stability of this galaxy are of significant concern to the Alliance, pending the establishment of a more extensive presence here, I am willing to offer, on behalf of the Alliance High Council and all affiliated cells, military assistance in dealing with the Zerg threat."

This time Leia could not prevent Ryceed from speaking up. "Forgive me, Councilor, but I must voice my strong misgivings on such an offer. I don't mean to belittle your struggle Admiral, but we've got our own war to worry about, and I don't think we can afford to devote any material or personnel to extended action here. The original concept behind our mission was a sound one, but no one expected to find Picard's galaxy in a state of open war, no matter the opponent. I simply don't see how risking more of our ships and crews to come here and fight is a viable option."

Many officials of Leia's standing, among them members of the High Council, would have been severely taken aback by such an outburst from a mere captain, especially during sensitive negotiations, but she seemed unperturbed. Ryceed's discomfort with her assignment had been plain from the beginning; perhaps the diplomat had been anticipating just such an incident.

"When I offered military assistance, it was not my intent to travel back through the wormhole to gather it," Leia Organa responded coolly, fixing the captain squarely in her gaze.

Ryceed's mouth fell open slightly. "You expect the Republica to fight this war alone? You know the condition of my ship full-well; she's badly damaged, down to well under fifty percent combat efficiency, and her crew has been engaged in four separate battles in the last week alone. We're in no shape to conduct a freighter raid, much less topple a galactic power."

"The Republica preformed beyond all expectations against the Zerg fleet, despite its condition," Leia pressed, clearly undaunted. "You had to fight through hundreds of hostile targets to clear a path to the enemy command vessel, and yet your ship, to my knowledge, only received minimal damage. How many of their warships were destroyed, even with the Republica's offensive capability limited? Thirty? Forty?"

"The technological disparity between our galaxy and this one are more than substantial. I don't know how large a force the Zerg command, or how extensive their dominion is, but if they are limited to the technology of this civilization, a single light cruiser may be all that is needed to tip the tide of the war in the favor of the Federation and her allies. Is my assessment correct, Admiral Nechayev?"

The older woman nodded slowly. "Our intelligence on the true scope of the Zerg threat is spotty at best, but considering the level of effectiveness that your vessel had against the hostile fleet, I believe that you may be right. I'm having my tactical department run some simulations on what impact the Republica might have on the outcome of future engagements right now, in fact. Obviously, we don't know much about the actual capabilities of your ship, or how it does what it does, but from what we all saw it do in action, its safe to say that the results will be positive, at the very least."

She paused for a moment and looked out the chamber's viewport. Beyond the transparent aluminum plate, the distant sparks and baubles that were the waning vestiges of once great armadas silently picked over the remnants of a costly victory. When Nechayev spoke again, her voice was somber. "Quite frankly, Councilor Organa, that ship may be last hope we have left. Even if we'd somehow survived this last assault without your assistance, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. The Zerg lost a great many ships here today, but they control many more, far more than we have left. And our efforts to scuttle as many space docks and shipyards as we could before being forced to evacuate each successive system have only been partially successful; if they figure out how to build more of our ships, they can easily replace their losses. We can't."

"If things keep going as they have been, if those creatures keeping spreading to world after world and hunting down anyone who manages to escape, there won't be a single remnant of the Federation left in a year's time. Damn it all, there won't be an Alpha or a Beta Quadrant left. We've tried… I've tried to stop them, but their first strike was too effective, and their expansion too quick. Right now, our only options are to flee or die fighting. Personally, I think the end result of both will be the same."

"I can't promise you much an ally here if you help us fight, Councilor, but I can promise you that there won't be one at all if you don't."

Though the Republica had served as a warship for much of its operational life, like most Mon Calamari vessels, it had been a civilian ship before the amphibian race had been compelled to take up arms against the specter of Imperial domination. Numerous refits had removed or obscured many of its original amenities to make room for weaponry and added armor, but a few remained intact even in the face of military considerations, evidence of the perpetual Calamarinian longing for a return to peace. Most notable among the relics were several sets of broad, transparisteel viewports that lined the corridors that ran along the perimeter of the ship, concentrated mainly around the characteristic bulges that protruded from the warship's midsection.

Jacen Solo stood quietly at one such window, his hands folded behind his back. For the first time since the battle, the hallway in which they stood was relatively quiet, what minimal repairs that were needed having largely been completed and most of the crew on a much needed rest shift, and the soft glow of Bajor's looming disk actually made the weary warship seem rather peaceful. Normally, the young jedi would use such moments to meditate or collect his thoughts, but on this occasion something was keeping him from focusing inward. Of course, he couldn't say he particularly minded the distraction.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Laura Martin asked, leaning her elbows against the transparent barrier as she stared out at the blue-green orb. "I never really appreciated views like these before, but I guess being away from them for a long time can change your perspective. I haven't had a chance to just stop and look out at a planet for months… it feels like longer. It's been too chaotic to do anything but worry about your duties. And try not to think about… well, things."

Sensing that the woman was growing agitated by the memories that still threatened to claw their way back into her conscious thoughts, Jacen broke the uncomfortable silence that followed her comment. For a reason he couldn't quite place, speaking was harder than it should have been, but he managed nonetheless. "I'm enjoying the view, too."

"…err, of the planet, I mean," he added quickly, grimacing slightly. Focus Jacen. Laura didn't seem to notice him falter. "It reminds me of home. Well, one of my homes, at least. I spent a lot of time on a world like this one, Yavin Four, when I was younger. Of course, I suppose I spent just as much time on Coruscant too, my parents live there. It doesn't look much like this though, More metal." The man bit his lip, realizing that he had begun to ramble.

Laura turned to face him, curious. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Coruscant is all one big city. From orbit, it's mostly just black and gray, with a lot of lights running throughout. It's still quite a sight, though, especially if you get up close. The cityscape is really something, and at dawn all of the towers light up beautifully. I still prefer more natural planets, though. The sheer crush of activity on a world like Coruscant can be overwhelming sometimes."

"The entire planet is covered by a city?" Laura questioned, amazement creeping into her soft features. "That's incredible. It must have taken thousands of years to cover encompass an entire world."

Jacen smiled. "Tens of thousands actually, at the very least. No one's really certain exactly how old Coruscant is, but it's been the galactic capital for twenty five thousand years, and it was nearly as crowded back then."

"Amazing." Laura cleared away a few strands of brown hair that had fallen across her face and grinned dreamily. "I'd love to see a place like that. There isn't any world like that in this galaxy, at least not any that I've heard of."

"I'd like to show it to you. Of course, I'd just like to see it again at all, myself. It seems like years since I've been there, or any place really familiar for that matter. Then again, I suppose it isn't going to change any time soon."

Suddenly, an unheralded burst of vision flashed through Jacen's mind; a might globe of metal, wreathed with flickering embers and pockmarked with thousands of roiling craters of black; his mother, older, as she should have been, her faced stained with tears; his brother Anakin, bloody and engulfed in a terrible, burning aura; the black, nightmare mask that his grandfather had born most of his life; a towering monolith, carved against the darkened sky; the face of Aayla Secura, her eyes cold and shadowed. The images flowed together in a stream of overwhelming sensation, until the jedi could see nothing but an icy torrent swiftly rising inside of his skull, drowning out all conscious thought…

"Jacen? Are you all right?"

The man felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, and abruptly the vision evaporated, leaving only the empty hallway and the viewport on which he was leaning, breathing heavily. Shaking his head from side to side to clear it, Jacen regained his bearings, and noticed that the young ensign he had been talking with was now standing less than a meter away, her arm on his, a concerned look on her face. A warming sensation spread across Jacen's face and he stepped back nervously, allowing Laura's hand to slip away.

"I'm fine," he said at last, both trying to make sense of what had just occurred and attempting to put it out of his mind. "I'm just a bit tired."

Laura knew little about the Force or the Jedi beyond the fact that Jacen had mentioned that he was one and possessed certain abilities that most humans did not, but he could sense that she knew that there was more to his disorientation than simple weariness. She was anything if not perceptive, and Jacen had no doubt that she might begin to make the connection eventually if allowed to do so. Analyzing the recent visions and sensations he had been experiencing of late too deeply was not something the jedi felt he was ready for, especially not if prompted to do so by another.

"So, where are you from?"

Laura frowned, evidently noting the hasty change of subject, but she replied nonetheless. "A little city called Portland, Maine. It's on Earth. The human homeworld… well, in this galaxy, at least. I don't suppose that there's a place by the same name where you're from?"

Jacen shook his head. "If there is, I've never heard of it. Of course, that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. There are still thousands of unexplored star systems out there, and our historians really don't know where humanity came from before it started colonizing planets like Coruscant. And if a parallel world did exist somewhere, we probably wouldn't call it the same thing. Earth is a rather… odd name."

Laura smirked. "You're not the first to make that comment. Even after hundreds of years of interstellar contact and civilization, I still run into the occasional Andorian or Ferengi who makes fun of the name. And they do have a point, naming one's home after dirt doesn't really do it much justice, especially in our case. You know, I've visited a fair number of planets since I joined Starfleet, and they're all quite amazing in their own way, but I've never encountered one as diverse or beautiful as Earth. Even just in my hometown. I've never felt as peaceful as I do when I'm sitting on the beach there at sunset, the water lit by the last rays of sunlight, the waves gentle lapping the breakers and soft sand."

The young woman trailed off, her smile replaced by a look of profound loss. She turned back to the viewport and gently placed a palm on its cool surface, Bajor's soft glow glinting in her eyes. "I suppose I'll never be able to sit on that sand again. There were several big power stations near Portland, and it would have been one of the first targets of the invasion. And even if it wasn't… well, I doubt that any place there is the same anymore."

"I'm sorry," Jacen began hurriedly, his shoulders drooping noticeably. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, it's all right. This is just something we all have to live with." She looked back at Jacen and tried to banish the shadows from her face. "I can't really say I've come to terms with it, or ever will, but I've lost too much to be consumed by each memory and each needless death. We all have. You have too, I guess. All we can really do is appreciate what we still have left."

Jacen stared back at the woman for a long time, no longer embarrassed by the reddening of his cheeks. At last, he nodded and smiled back. "I suppose you're right."

What's going on?

Darkness enclosed on all sides. There was no light, no substance, no sound, no motion. She floated upon the null. And yet, there was something out there, far beyond reach. Indistinct, a specter of a specter, a faint crackle in the back of the mind. Slowly, the sensation grew, blocking out memories and scattered thoughts that vainly tried to impose themselves on the empty plane. Then, it became a whisper. Many whispers.

"At last…" Faint, almost imperceptible.

Who are you?

"Major?" Stronger, a male voice, confident.

Where am I?

"Answer me, Kira." Another male voice, kind and concerned

What has happened?

"Come on, Nerys. Wake up." Yet another, desperate, helpless, loving.

Where are you?

"That's it, my daughter. Awaken." A female voice this time, wise and patient.

Why won't you answer?

"There, you see? Even a Bajoran can do it eventually." A deeper tone, cruel and mocking.

There were shapes now, fleeting images. Circles… no, faces. Each was different, each was speaking. They were all so strange, pale and distant, but she knew them. Benjamin Sisko; leader, friend; willingly lost to the void for the good of all. Bareil Antos; friend, lover; torn away by the injustice of the world. Odo; lover, comrade; separated by the bonds of duty and family. Kai Opaka; comrade, mother, role model; exiled by fate, so far away. Gul Dukat; monster, madman, motivation; destroyed, like so many others.

They were all part of her.

They were all gone.

What is this?

"Hurry up, Major. We haven't got all day."

More shapes. Disks. There was the gentle orb of home. There, the vaulted arms of Deep Space Nine. Then, other things. Sacred icons. Rank insignia. Morning rations. A sleeping child.

Why are you showing me these things?

"You disappoint me, Nerys. You were far more clever once."

There, beyond all the others, there was another shape. Growing, covering everything else. A claw? A hand? A mouth?

In its shadow, another image appeared like a beacon shrouded in fog. The Celestial Temple, the Bajoran Wormhole. A shimmering, energetic orb set like a jewel in space. It was the gateway to the Prophets, the protectors of her people. Living gods who had always guided and empowered her. They were the avatars of her very being; all that she was, soldier, officer, lover, friend, stemmed from their distant, all-knowing touch.

Then, in an instant, all of it was consumed by the shapeless maw. All that she was vanished into the blackness. She was alone. And yet, the chorus of whispers grew ever louder, ever clearer, ever more unified.

What do you want from me?

"Now, now Kira. All in good time."

The voice was familiar. It sounded the same as she remembered, smooth and confident. But it was not calming. There was no balm in the words, only cold fingers of ice and darkness. They slashed at her, tearing soundlessly into her flesh, spearing her chest with invisible barbs. But there was no pain, no blood, not even any release. She looked down, as if seeing her body for the first time. There, carved into her slender torso, was a gaping, ragged gash that pierced skin and bone, leaving her most vital of organs laid bear to the deep.

And yet, she saw no heart. There was only a blank space, as empty as the limitless chasm all around her.

I am dead. I must be dead.

"Yes."

Then why are you here? Why do you not give me peace?

"Peace? Silly girl, why should there be peace?"

The holy writings said…

"Holy?" This voice was new. Clearer than the rest. Penetrating. "There is nothing holy about this place. As you said, you are dead; there is only death here."

Then why can I still hear you?

"Death is not quiet, not this death. A silent passing would not serve."

Serve?

"Why, yes. Surely you did not think was for your amusement. No, no. You must fulfill your purpose before the fading is complete."

My purpose?

"In good time. When the time comes, you will act as needed."

But I am dead…

A sharp laugh echoed from nowhere at all. "You will find soon enough, Nerys, that in your world and mine, the dead can do a great many things."

Upon a medical bed within the depths of the Mon Calamari warship, a limp, bandaged form quivered to life, thrashed momentarily beneath sterile coverings, and then collapsed back into motionlessness once more. Had its lips not been sealed by a healing brace, the spasm would have been a scream.