Chapter 26: The Emissary Rises- By CaptainChewbacca of the TrekBBS (aka
Peter Knudson)
"In here, Jake!" The voice giggled in the dark.
Young Terran smiled as he stooped and moved from the bright sunlight into the cave. "Alright, Lirinn, let's see what's so great about these 'Ice Caves' you keep telling..." As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, two shapes holding disruptors became visible. Jake Sisko swallowed at the sudden dryness in his mouth. "You don't want to do this, really. Do you know who my father is?"
A hand rested on his shoulder. It was Lirinn, his lover. He searched her eyes for anger or betrayal, but found none. Confusion furrowed his brow. "It's alright, Jake. They won't shoot, you are not to be harmed."
"Come with us." The taller of the two Bajorans gestured with his disruptor toward the back of the cave. One walked ahead of Jake, the other behind, with Lirinn at his side. Jake's mind raced, trying to think of what could be going on. Were these Bajorans with the Circle? Religious fanatics? Rumors had been circling that spies from the so-called 'Grand Alliance' ranged far in the Imperium, all the way up to the top military ranks. Could someone unhappy with his father have arranged for his kidnapping? The Bajorans were loyal citizens of the Imperium, and had been integrated almost sixty years with few incidents.
As they came to the back of the cave, the lead guard, the one who had spoken, pressed a rock which looked no different from any others, and a portion of the tunnel wall disappeared. They went inside, and Jake stopped for a moment. Inside was an immense cavern, perhaps a kilometer across. They walked around an elevated ledge which ringed the room, and as Jake looked down he could see cooking fires and lanterns glinting in a sea of tents; a whole city underground.
As they descended to the floor, a shout went up from the village, and from the tents poured Bajorans. Men, women, and even children stood and watched. Some were smiling and waving, a few were cheering, and many had stern looks on their faces as they held weapons close. Jake had no illusions about what they wanted to use those guns for. As they walked, the crowd began to grow thicker and he could see their faces. The people were tired and dirty. Disgraceful for citizens of the Empire, but what could be expected from aliens?
"Are you going to kill me?" Jake spoke in a low tone to Lirinn.
She took his hand. "No, something else altogether. But just wait."
A few people threw stones at Jake, but the lead guard fired a shot into the ceiling. "None of that!" He shouted down the growing murmur. "He is under the protection of the Kai." They walked Jake quickly through the village to the far side, where a low archway was flanked by another pair of guards. The entourage stopped, and the lead guard turned to Jake. "Only you are to enter."
"What's in there?" Jake had a bad feeling about what was inside. But his escort was silent. Lirinn only smiled and clenched her hands together in anticipation. The young Terran went inside. The tunnel was narrow and dim, with only a single lamp illuminating it. He walked slowly to the corner and turned, coming suddenly into a small library. At least that's what it looked like. Jake was a writer, and the smell of old parchment tickled his nostrils. A small fire on a hearth lighted the room and cast strange shadows. Stacks of books and scrolls filled two walls of shelves and covered a table. He almost didn't see the room's occupant because a stack of books hid her in her chair.
"I have been expecting you, Jacob Sisko." The tiny robed form stood slowly. She turned to Jake and for a long moment the two looked at each other. She was a tiny Bajoran woman, no more than one and a half meters tall, and very old. There was a cold light in here eyes, but a slight smile on her face. She stepped forward and in an instant grabbed Jake's ear. A cold finger and thumb pinched the skin, but not painfully. Her eyes closed and she breathed deeply. "Your pah is strong, Jacob Sisko. The prophets words always find the true path."
Jake pushed her hand away. Now that the guards were gone, he was starting to get annoyed. "Prophets? What are you talking about? Do you know who I am?"
The old woman turned away and went to the fire. "Such demands from one so young. Which shall I answer first?" She retrieved a steaming kettle from the fire.
Just play along and get out of here, Jake thought. "I guess first tell me who you are."
She walked past him to the table and started rummaging amongst scrolls for cups. "I am Kai Opacca, servant of the Prophets." She handed Jake a cup of steaming liquid and sat in the large overstuffed chair. Opacca pointed to a chair in the corner, motioning for Jake to sit down."
The young Terran tried to speak with dispassion, remembering some of his father's lessons in diplomacy. On Bajor, a Kai was a religious leader, and if he remembered correctly, the 'Prophets' were the less-hedonistic of Bajor's two sects of spirits. Jake had heard horror stories of the violence caused by the cult of the Pah Wraiths. "I greet you, Kai Opacca. If you know who I am, you must know that my father is the Vice Admiral of this sector, and will not permit me to be held. He won't pay you ransom, he'll just send an assault team. The Imperium protects its people well." Somehow, Jake didn't think he sounded as menacing as his father.
Kai Opacca sipped her tea and then waved his words away. "You misjudge us, Jacob. We are not Terrans, who attack and conquer without provocation. I asked Lirinn to bring you here so I could ask for your help."
Jake suppressed a laugh. "My help? What makes you think I'll help you?" This woman is insane.
"Yes, your help. We wish for you to take a gift to your father, Admiral Sisko." She leaned to one side and picked up a box. It was the size of a small strongbox, but of beautifully carved wood.
Now Jake was curious. "What is it?"
She slowly opened the box and took out something wrapped in cloth green cloth. She carefully removed the wrapping and Jake leaned forward. In the old woman's hands was a small box perhaps only twenty centimeters on the side. It was roughly trapezoidal, with glowing blue gems decorating the center of each face.
"What is it?" Jake reached out to touch it, but Opacca grabbed his wrist and looked into his eyes.
"It is the Orb of the Emissary, sent by the Prophets for your father long ago." She let go of his wrist and started to wrap the orb again. "We wish for you to give it to your father. He will know what to do with it when the time comes."
Jake stood up and walked to the fire, warming his hands. The hand he had reached out with was very cold. "Let me get this straight," a slight grin on his face, "These Prophets of yours told you to kidnap me and give me a magic box to give to my father? Why?"
"Ours is not to question the Prophets, young Sisko." Opacca stood and handed the box to Jake. "Ours is but to follow our destiny. And you, you Jacob Sisko, have a great destiny." She looked up at him, her smile growing. "You will take the will of the Prophets from this place, and be the herald of the Emissary."
--- --- ---
Captain Kira's cloak billowed behind her as she stalked across the promenade of Deep Space Nine, driving the few shoppers out of her way like a gust of wind. Normally, the Captain of the ISS Saratoga kept her pace more measured, with dignity that her position demanded. But some logistics reports had taken longer than she didn't want to miss the debriefing.
She stepped into the turbolift and smiled slightly as the doors closed. That thick-headed Terran, Admiral Riker, had gotten his battle group knocked around by a Jem'Hadar patrol, and had come in for repairs. Kira shook her head, wondering how the Imperium she loved could promote Terrans like him while loyal non-Terrans like herself had to fight for advancement. It would be sweeter than a jum-ja stick to see him dressed down by Fleet Admiral Sisko.
Her musings were over in an instant, and as the turbolift rose into station ops, she made her face a mask of stone. A young ensign towering at the door in armor announced "Captain on deck!" and as one the Terrans, Bajorans, and Vulcans snapped to attention. She dismissed them with a nod. Her people feared her, and with good reason. She was the highest-ranked Bajorans in Starfleet, and the only "lesser" alien to be ranked so high in a sector fleet. Kira descended the stairs and crossed the room, cursing the Cardassian design. It was the Terran's sense of irony that made DS9 the only Cardassian military outpost still in existence, well it used to be. As Kira climbed the stairs she could already hear Sisko's voice. He was more on edge these days, with the Cardassian resurgence making his sector of vital strategic importance. Sisko was tough on his officers, but usually fair. Right now he was being tough on Riker.
The door opened. ".. and you are telling me that you are short six Defiants, two Prometheus cruisers, and the Vengeance is so badly damaged my engineers tell me it's a tossup whether scrapping her would be a better use of resources." Admiral Sisko was in fine form today, his thundering voice filled the room and he was already pacing behind his desk. A datapad was wagging in his right hand like a snake. Across from him stood Riker and his second, Captain Lore. Kira shuddered as the android's eyes studied her for an instant. She had heard stories about the androids of Section-31, and he was their prototype.
"With all due respect, sir," Riker was trying to keep his voice measured, and fairing poorly. "the battle group was outnumbered almost three to one. Only superior firepower helped us to counteract their maneuverability."
Sisko raised the datapad and studied it. "Ah yes. Thirty Jem'Hadar destroyers and four battle cruisers. It must have been terrifying- How ever did you manage to survive?" He cocked his head and for a moment there was a smile on his face. Then it vanished as he slammed the datapad on his desk, smashing the small thing into pieces and causing his baseball to jump out of its stand. "By dumb luck, that's how!" Sisko picked up his baseball and began to spin it in his hand. "I have read your report, Commissar Troi's report," he nodded to the Batezoid reclining in the corner "and Captain Lore's report. I even read the sensor logs from the Enterprise, and I was shocked. Do you know what I found out, Vice Admiral Riker?" He looked into Riker's eyes, and the mutual hatred glowed between them. Riker remained silent.
Sisko tossed his baseball and caught it. "Captain Kira, what does the Starfleet code of military conduct say in section two, paragraph four?" Kira was his favorite Captain. He hoped she would play.
And Kira didn't like Riker either. She stood straight. "Sir, when an Imperial force has encountered an enemy force and has determined it to be of inferior stature, it is to attack immediately taking all possible precautions."
"Ah, attack immediately. That is correct, Captain." Sisko turned to Riker. "Are you familiar with the Starfleet code of military conduct, Admiral?"
Riker kept at rigid attention. "Yes, sir."
Sisko smiled. "Good, for a minute I was worried. Do you know how long it was between the detection of the enemy force and the Enterprise's engaging of the enemy? EIGHTEEN POINT FOUR SECONDS!" He spat out the words like fire. He spun around and looked out the window. "Eighteen point four seconds! And, after the enemy force had ALREADY closed to weapons range and fired on the battle group, did you order an attack?" The silence in the room rang in Kira's ears. Sisko turned around and leaned across his desk. "Did you order an attack after being fired upon, Admiral Riker?"
"No sir."
"NO YOU DID NOT!" Sisko pushed away from his desk. "The good Commissar had to order an attack after your indecision became so painfully obvious that even SHE could see what needed to be done. Captain Lore!" The android shifted from his motionless stance. "Captain Lore, what would your course of action have been?"
The android clearly did not want to answer the question, for fear of earning the animosity of either of his commanders. "Sir, I was not in command of the force, and may not have been privy to-"
"Yes, yes, you want to keep your job." Sisko waved away the rest of his sentence. "What would your course of action have been?"
"Sir," Kira could almost here the processors inside the android crafting the proper response. "I believe if I were in charge I would have dispatched the Defiants in pairs on Destroyers, two Prometheus's and one Sovereign per Battlecruiser, and sent the last Sovereign on overall cover, shepherding the Defiants." For a moment it seemed Lore would continue, but he closed his mouth.
Sisko clapped. "Excellent strategy, Captain. You are a credit to the Empire. But YOU" he pointed at Riker "are something less. Perhaps one day I will tell you exactly what that is. In the meantime," He put down his baseball and picked up another datapad and tapped a few keys. "I am entering a formal reprimand into your record, and am requesting a review of your status as battle group commander." He handed the pad to Riker. "Do you have anything you wish to say, Vice-Admiral?"
For a pair of heartbeats Riker stood fuming, then seemed to subside. "No... Sir." He took the pad.
"Then all three of you are dismissed." Riker spun on his heel and left, followed by Lore, and Troi. The doors slid closed.
Kira burst out laughing. "Did you enjoy that, Admiral?"
Sisko sat back in his chair and started gathering pieces of datapad off his desk. "Yes, yes I did." He smiled. "It's a shame, so many valuable ships in the hands of that man." He gestured to the chair opposite his.
"What keeps him in his chair?" Kira relaxed in the plush cushioning. The Terrans had improved on the Cardassian design.
"Nepotism. Nepotism and the unwillingness of Starfleet to admit its mistakes." He picked up his baseball and tossed it to Kira. "Makes you wonder if Twain was right about irony after all."
"Twain, Sir?" The admiral was a literary man, always quoting his ancient American authors which Kira couldn't tolerate. Not at all like the poetry of Jetain.
There was a far off light in Sisko's eyes. "Never mind about that. Still, that Captain Lore shows promise, don't you think?"
"Some, Sir." Kira had seen that light before. She knew Sisko was thinking about the future of the Imperium, and what Captain Lore could do for it. It was why she admired the man. They both believed in the Imperium, really believed. It was why she had killed her captain, and why Sisko had pardoned her and made her his Flag Captain. They were kindred souls.
"Now then, Admiral." Kira pulled a datapad from the desktop. "I have the new analyses of fleet combat performance drills for your review, as well as construction summaries for the new defenses..."
--- --- ---
Director Garak strode slowly through the command section of the Cardassian Hutet Cardassia's Song, his dark expression cast an aura of worry around him which drove the crewmen before him like a whirlwind. From humble beginnings as the son of a poor tailor, Elim Garak had traded secrets and information with his Imperial masters and done it well. He had pitted one greedy Terran against another ambitious one time and again, all the while securing supplies and information for the Unionists. Sixty years of occupation and humiliation was now over, and hope shone from the face of every Cardassian. Except his.
Garak climbed the steps to the Command dais and pressed the door panel. The doors silently opened, and he stepped inside. Seated behind the immense desk, Gul Damar was looking over a stack of status reports from the various leaders of the fleet. The ruddy glow of the subspace corridor illuminated the dim room. Garak knew that Damar enjoyed his kanar off- duty, but when he was working he let nothing distract him. He glanced up when he heard the door. "Good day, Director. To what do I owe such a visit?"
"There has been an incident on one of the Terran Superdreadnoughts." A note of gloating was in Garak's voice.
Damar continued to study his reports. "Yes, I know. Most unfortunate."
"Unfortunate??" Garak laughed. "My dear Legate, I would hardly call the accidental triggering of the tactical counterinsurgency holograms and the loss of the entire crew 'unfortunate'. The ship had to be destroyed."
"As I said, unfortunate." Damar looked into Garak's eyes, reading his meaning. "But we must continue with our mission; no delays." He picked up another PADD, but Garak wasn't finished.
He snatched the PADD out of his hand, and Damar rose to his feet. He was not about to be challenged in his own ship. "Damar, look around you!" Garak stepped back but spoke with force. He knew he had just one chance. "Our new-found empire is barely six weeks old, and our borders are far from protected. And yet, here we sit in the midst of a new and untested fleet with faulty ships on our way to attack the most heavily defended Imperial world in this sector. Attack and conquer it. Eighty years ago the Imperium and the Bajorans destroyed our homeworld, and now our vaunted military leaders want revenge."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Damar leaned over and snatched the PADD from Garak. He set it on the desk and walked over to a cabinet. "Do you think I don't know that Legate Dukat and his peers are idealistic fools who think we've already won this war?" He opened the cabinet door and took out a bottle of amber kanar and a pair of glasses. "In seven hours I am to lead a fleet against a heavily defended Terran world with barely enough forces to match them gun-for-gun." He filled each glass with a few centimeters of the liquid. "Don't you think I argued with central command for five hours against this?" He handed Garak a glass and then pounded down his own.
He set the glass on the table. "Cardassia has to be more than strong. It has to be feared. And the central command thinks the best way to do that is to keep our enemy off guard, and to do that, I am to conquer Bajor in the name of the Cardassian Union."
Garak studied his drink, and tasted it gingerly. "And what do YOU think, Legate?"
"I think..." Damar chose his words carefully. The Obsidian Order was always searching for chinks in the loyalty of officials. "...I am loyal to Cardassia, and will carry out the orders of the central command. I am ordered to engage the Imperial Fleet at Bajor and conquer it, so that is what I will do."
"Hmmm... very well Legate." Garak drained his glass and grimaced slightly. "To our victory!" He spun on his heel and left. As he passed the communications pit, he tapped a few buttons on a console. No one would question him, they wouldn't dare. A light flashed on the panel, and Garak's carefully disguised signal leapt into the void. He walked to the turbolift and smiled slightly. One last card, and he had played it. He wasn't about to let one fourth of the Cardassian fleet be dashed upon the rocks and shoals of ignorance. The Order protected Cardassia, even from its own leaders.
--- --- ---
In a dark, remote room on Imperial Listening Post 21419 in the center of a hollow asteroid, a panel of lights sprang to life. A long-ago written code hardwired into the system overrode its normal functions, sending a massively encrypted data file to a receiver somewhere deep in Imperial space. If the automated outpost could reason, it would have wondered why high-level intelligence messages were being sent between two governments at war. But ILP21419 couldn't reason, and didn't care. For three tenths of a second its transmissions were interrupted as it sent its tight-beam transmission. No had one noticed the lapse in function, and no one ever would.
"In here, Jake!" The voice giggled in the dark.
Young Terran smiled as he stooped and moved from the bright sunlight into the cave. "Alright, Lirinn, let's see what's so great about these 'Ice Caves' you keep telling..." As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, two shapes holding disruptors became visible. Jake Sisko swallowed at the sudden dryness in his mouth. "You don't want to do this, really. Do you know who my father is?"
A hand rested on his shoulder. It was Lirinn, his lover. He searched her eyes for anger or betrayal, but found none. Confusion furrowed his brow. "It's alright, Jake. They won't shoot, you are not to be harmed."
"Come with us." The taller of the two Bajorans gestured with his disruptor toward the back of the cave. One walked ahead of Jake, the other behind, with Lirinn at his side. Jake's mind raced, trying to think of what could be going on. Were these Bajorans with the Circle? Religious fanatics? Rumors had been circling that spies from the so-called 'Grand Alliance' ranged far in the Imperium, all the way up to the top military ranks. Could someone unhappy with his father have arranged for his kidnapping? The Bajorans were loyal citizens of the Imperium, and had been integrated almost sixty years with few incidents.
As they came to the back of the cave, the lead guard, the one who had spoken, pressed a rock which looked no different from any others, and a portion of the tunnel wall disappeared. They went inside, and Jake stopped for a moment. Inside was an immense cavern, perhaps a kilometer across. They walked around an elevated ledge which ringed the room, and as Jake looked down he could see cooking fires and lanterns glinting in a sea of tents; a whole city underground.
As they descended to the floor, a shout went up from the village, and from the tents poured Bajorans. Men, women, and even children stood and watched. Some were smiling and waving, a few were cheering, and many had stern looks on their faces as they held weapons close. Jake had no illusions about what they wanted to use those guns for. As they walked, the crowd began to grow thicker and he could see their faces. The people were tired and dirty. Disgraceful for citizens of the Empire, but what could be expected from aliens?
"Are you going to kill me?" Jake spoke in a low tone to Lirinn.
She took his hand. "No, something else altogether. But just wait."
A few people threw stones at Jake, but the lead guard fired a shot into the ceiling. "None of that!" He shouted down the growing murmur. "He is under the protection of the Kai." They walked Jake quickly through the village to the far side, where a low archway was flanked by another pair of guards. The entourage stopped, and the lead guard turned to Jake. "Only you are to enter."
"What's in there?" Jake had a bad feeling about what was inside. But his escort was silent. Lirinn only smiled and clenched her hands together in anticipation. The young Terran went inside. The tunnel was narrow and dim, with only a single lamp illuminating it. He walked slowly to the corner and turned, coming suddenly into a small library. At least that's what it looked like. Jake was a writer, and the smell of old parchment tickled his nostrils. A small fire on a hearth lighted the room and cast strange shadows. Stacks of books and scrolls filled two walls of shelves and covered a table. He almost didn't see the room's occupant because a stack of books hid her in her chair.
"I have been expecting you, Jacob Sisko." The tiny robed form stood slowly. She turned to Jake and for a long moment the two looked at each other. She was a tiny Bajoran woman, no more than one and a half meters tall, and very old. There was a cold light in here eyes, but a slight smile on her face. She stepped forward and in an instant grabbed Jake's ear. A cold finger and thumb pinched the skin, but not painfully. Her eyes closed and she breathed deeply. "Your pah is strong, Jacob Sisko. The prophets words always find the true path."
Jake pushed her hand away. Now that the guards were gone, he was starting to get annoyed. "Prophets? What are you talking about? Do you know who I am?"
The old woman turned away and went to the fire. "Such demands from one so young. Which shall I answer first?" She retrieved a steaming kettle from the fire.
Just play along and get out of here, Jake thought. "I guess first tell me who you are."
She walked past him to the table and started rummaging amongst scrolls for cups. "I am Kai Opacca, servant of the Prophets." She handed Jake a cup of steaming liquid and sat in the large overstuffed chair. Opacca pointed to a chair in the corner, motioning for Jake to sit down."
The young Terran tried to speak with dispassion, remembering some of his father's lessons in diplomacy. On Bajor, a Kai was a religious leader, and if he remembered correctly, the 'Prophets' were the less-hedonistic of Bajor's two sects of spirits. Jake had heard horror stories of the violence caused by the cult of the Pah Wraiths. "I greet you, Kai Opacca. If you know who I am, you must know that my father is the Vice Admiral of this sector, and will not permit me to be held. He won't pay you ransom, he'll just send an assault team. The Imperium protects its people well." Somehow, Jake didn't think he sounded as menacing as his father.
Kai Opacca sipped her tea and then waved his words away. "You misjudge us, Jacob. We are not Terrans, who attack and conquer without provocation. I asked Lirinn to bring you here so I could ask for your help."
Jake suppressed a laugh. "My help? What makes you think I'll help you?" This woman is insane.
"Yes, your help. We wish for you to take a gift to your father, Admiral Sisko." She leaned to one side and picked up a box. It was the size of a small strongbox, but of beautifully carved wood.
Now Jake was curious. "What is it?"
She slowly opened the box and took out something wrapped in cloth green cloth. She carefully removed the wrapping and Jake leaned forward. In the old woman's hands was a small box perhaps only twenty centimeters on the side. It was roughly trapezoidal, with glowing blue gems decorating the center of each face.
"What is it?" Jake reached out to touch it, but Opacca grabbed his wrist and looked into his eyes.
"It is the Orb of the Emissary, sent by the Prophets for your father long ago." She let go of his wrist and started to wrap the orb again. "We wish for you to give it to your father. He will know what to do with it when the time comes."
Jake stood up and walked to the fire, warming his hands. The hand he had reached out with was very cold. "Let me get this straight," a slight grin on his face, "These Prophets of yours told you to kidnap me and give me a magic box to give to my father? Why?"
"Ours is not to question the Prophets, young Sisko." Opacca stood and handed the box to Jake. "Ours is but to follow our destiny. And you, you Jacob Sisko, have a great destiny." She looked up at him, her smile growing. "You will take the will of the Prophets from this place, and be the herald of the Emissary."
--- --- ---
Captain Kira's cloak billowed behind her as she stalked across the promenade of Deep Space Nine, driving the few shoppers out of her way like a gust of wind. Normally, the Captain of the ISS Saratoga kept her pace more measured, with dignity that her position demanded. But some logistics reports had taken longer than she didn't want to miss the debriefing.
She stepped into the turbolift and smiled slightly as the doors closed. That thick-headed Terran, Admiral Riker, had gotten his battle group knocked around by a Jem'Hadar patrol, and had come in for repairs. Kira shook her head, wondering how the Imperium she loved could promote Terrans like him while loyal non-Terrans like herself had to fight for advancement. It would be sweeter than a jum-ja stick to see him dressed down by Fleet Admiral Sisko.
Her musings were over in an instant, and as the turbolift rose into station ops, she made her face a mask of stone. A young ensign towering at the door in armor announced "Captain on deck!" and as one the Terrans, Bajorans, and Vulcans snapped to attention. She dismissed them with a nod. Her people feared her, and with good reason. She was the highest-ranked Bajorans in Starfleet, and the only "lesser" alien to be ranked so high in a sector fleet. Kira descended the stairs and crossed the room, cursing the Cardassian design. It was the Terran's sense of irony that made DS9 the only Cardassian military outpost still in existence, well it used to be. As Kira climbed the stairs she could already hear Sisko's voice. He was more on edge these days, with the Cardassian resurgence making his sector of vital strategic importance. Sisko was tough on his officers, but usually fair. Right now he was being tough on Riker.
The door opened. ".. and you are telling me that you are short six Defiants, two Prometheus cruisers, and the Vengeance is so badly damaged my engineers tell me it's a tossup whether scrapping her would be a better use of resources." Admiral Sisko was in fine form today, his thundering voice filled the room and he was already pacing behind his desk. A datapad was wagging in his right hand like a snake. Across from him stood Riker and his second, Captain Lore. Kira shuddered as the android's eyes studied her for an instant. She had heard stories about the androids of Section-31, and he was their prototype.
"With all due respect, sir," Riker was trying to keep his voice measured, and fairing poorly. "the battle group was outnumbered almost three to one. Only superior firepower helped us to counteract their maneuverability."
Sisko raised the datapad and studied it. "Ah yes. Thirty Jem'Hadar destroyers and four battle cruisers. It must have been terrifying- How ever did you manage to survive?" He cocked his head and for a moment there was a smile on his face. Then it vanished as he slammed the datapad on his desk, smashing the small thing into pieces and causing his baseball to jump out of its stand. "By dumb luck, that's how!" Sisko picked up his baseball and began to spin it in his hand. "I have read your report, Commissar Troi's report," he nodded to the Batezoid reclining in the corner "and Captain Lore's report. I even read the sensor logs from the Enterprise, and I was shocked. Do you know what I found out, Vice Admiral Riker?" He looked into Riker's eyes, and the mutual hatred glowed between them. Riker remained silent.
Sisko tossed his baseball and caught it. "Captain Kira, what does the Starfleet code of military conduct say in section two, paragraph four?" Kira was his favorite Captain. He hoped she would play.
And Kira didn't like Riker either. She stood straight. "Sir, when an Imperial force has encountered an enemy force and has determined it to be of inferior stature, it is to attack immediately taking all possible precautions."
"Ah, attack immediately. That is correct, Captain." Sisko turned to Riker. "Are you familiar with the Starfleet code of military conduct, Admiral?"
Riker kept at rigid attention. "Yes, sir."
Sisko smiled. "Good, for a minute I was worried. Do you know how long it was between the detection of the enemy force and the Enterprise's engaging of the enemy? EIGHTEEN POINT FOUR SECONDS!" He spat out the words like fire. He spun around and looked out the window. "Eighteen point four seconds! And, after the enemy force had ALREADY closed to weapons range and fired on the battle group, did you order an attack?" The silence in the room rang in Kira's ears. Sisko turned around and leaned across his desk. "Did you order an attack after being fired upon, Admiral Riker?"
"No sir."
"NO YOU DID NOT!" Sisko pushed away from his desk. "The good Commissar had to order an attack after your indecision became so painfully obvious that even SHE could see what needed to be done. Captain Lore!" The android shifted from his motionless stance. "Captain Lore, what would your course of action have been?"
The android clearly did not want to answer the question, for fear of earning the animosity of either of his commanders. "Sir, I was not in command of the force, and may not have been privy to-"
"Yes, yes, you want to keep your job." Sisko waved away the rest of his sentence. "What would your course of action have been?"
"Sir," Kira could almost here the processors inside the android crafting the proper response. "I believe if I were in charge I would have dispatched the Defiants in pairs on Destroyers, two Prometheus's and one Sovereign per Battlecruiser, and sent the last Sovereign on overall cover, shepherding the Defiants." For a moment it seemed Lore would continue, but he closed his mouth.
Sisko clapped. "Excellent strategy, Captain. You are a credit to the Empire. But YOU" he pointed at Riker "are something less. Perhaps one day I will tell you exactly what that is. In the meantime," He put down his baseball and picked up another datapad and tapped a few keys. "I am entering a formal reprimand into your record, and am requesting a review of your status as battle group commander." He handed the pad to Riker. "Do you have anything you wish to say, Vice-Admiral?"
For a pair of heartbeats Riker stood fuming, then seemed to subside. "No... Sir." He took the pad.
"Then all three of you are dismissed." Riker spun on his heel and left, followed by Lore, and Troi. The doors slid closed.
Kira burst out laughing. "Did you enjoy that, Admiral?"
Sisko sat back in his chair and started gathering pieces of datapad off his desk. "Yes, yes I did." He smiled. "It's a shame, so many valuable ships in the hands of that man." He gestured to the chair opposite his.
"What keeps him in his chair?" Kira relaxed in the plush cushioning. The Terrans had improved on the Cardassian design.
"Nepotism. Nepotism and the unwillingness of Starfleet to admit its mistakes." He picked up his baseball and tossed it to Kira. "Makes you wonder if Twain was right about irony after all."
"Twain, Sir?" The admiral was a literary man, always quoting his ancient American authors which Kira couldn't tolerate. Not at all like the poetry of Jetain.
There was a far off light in Sisko's eyes. "Never mind about that. Still, that Captain Lore shows promise, don't you think?"
"Some, Sir." Kira had seen that light before. She knew Sisko was thinking about the future of the Imperium, and what Captain Lore could do for it. It was why she admired the man. They both believed in the Imperium, really believed. It was why she had killed her captain, and why Sisko had pardoned her and made her his Flag Captain. They were kindred souls.
"Now then, Admiral." Kira pulled a datapad from the desktop. "I have the new analyses of fleet combat performance drills for your review, as well as construction summaries for the new defenses..."
--- --- ---
Director Garak strode slowly through the command section of the Cardassian Hutet Cardassia's Song, his dark expression cast an aura of worry around him which drove the crewmen before him like a whirlwind. From humble beginnings as the son of a poor tailor, Elim Garak had traded secrets and information with his Imperial masters and done it well. He had pitted one greedy Terran against another ambitious one time and again, all the while securing supplies and information for the Unionists. Sixty years of occupation and humiliation was now over, and hope shone from the face of every Cardassian. Except his.
Garak climbed the steps to the Command dais and pressed the door panel. The doors silently opened, and he stepped inside. Seated behind the immense desk, Gul Damar was looking over a stack of status reports from the various leaders of the fleet. The ruddy glow of the subspace corridor illuminated the dim room. Garak knew that Damar enjoyed his kanar off- duty, but when he was working he let nothing distract him. He glanced up when he heard the door. "Good day, Director. To what do I owe such a visit?"
"There has been an incident on one of the Terran Superdreadnoughts." A note of gloating was in Garak's voice.
Damar continued to study his reports. "Yes, I know. Most unfortunate."
"Unfortunate??" Garak laughed. "My dear Legate, I would hardly call the accidental triggering of the tactical counterinsurgency holograms and the loss of the entire crew 'unfortunate'. The ship had to be destroyed."
"As I said, unfortunate." Damar looked into Garak's eyes, reading his meaning. "But we must continue with our mission; no delays." He picked up another PADD, but Garak wasn't finished.
He snatched the PADD out of his hand, and Damar rose to his feet. He was not about to be challenged in his own ship. "Damar, look around you!" Garak stepped back but spoke with force. He knew he had just one chance. "Our new-found empire is barely six weeks old, and our borders are far from protected. And yet, here we sit in the midst of a new and untested fleet with faulty ships on our way to attack the most heavily defended Imperial world in this sector. Attack and conquer it. Eighty years ago the Imperium and the Bajorans destroyed our homeworld, and now our vaunted military leaders want revenge."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Damar leaned over and snatched the PADD from Garak. He set it on the desk and walked over to a cabinet. "Do you think I don't know that Legate Dukat and his peers are idealistic fools who think we've already won this war?" He opened the cabinet door and took out a bottle of amber kanar and a pair of glasses. "In seven hours I am to lead a fleet against a heavily defended Terran world with barely enough forces to match them gun-for-gun." He filled each glass with a few centimeters of the liquid. "Don't you think I argued with central command for five hours against this?" He handed Garak a glass and then pounded down his own.
He set the glass on the table. "Cardassia has to be more than strong. It has to be feared. And the central command thinks the best way to do that is to keep our enemy off guard, and to do that, I am to conquer Bajor in the name of the Cardassian Union."
Garak studied his drink, and tasted it gingerly. "And what do YOU think, Legate?"
"I think..." Damar chose his words carefully. The Obsidian Order was always searching for chinks in the loyalty of officials. "...I am loyal to Cardassia, and will carry out the orders of the central command. I am ordered to engage the Imperial Fleet at Bajor and conquer it, so that is what I will do."
"Hmmm... very well Legate." Garak drained his glass and grimaced slightly. "To our victory!" He spun on his heel and left. As he passed the communications pit, he tapped a few buttons on a console. No one would question him, they wouldn't dare. A light flashed on the panel, and Garak's carefully disguised signal leapt into the void. He walked to the turbolift and smiled slightly. One last card, and he had played it. He wasn't about to let one fourth of the Cardassian fleet be dashed upon the rocks and shoals of ignorance. The Order protected Cardassia, even from its own leaders.
--- --- ---
In a dark, remote room on Imperial Listening Post 21419 in the center of a hollow asteroid, a panel of lights sprang to life. A long-ago written code hardwired into the system overrode its normal functions, sending a massively encrypted data file to a receiver somewhere deep in Imperial space. If the automated outpost could reason, it would have wondered why high-level intelligence messages were being sent between two governments at war. But ILP21419 couldn't reason, and didn't care. For three tenths of a second its transmissions were interrupted as it sent its tight-beam transmission. No had one noticed the lapse in function, and no one ever would.