In ops, Ro Laren and her crew peered up at the main viewscreen, which showed the spinning blue-and-white vortex of the Bajoran wormhole as it wheeled into the visible aspect of its existence. The captain held her breath, her fists tightening, as she waited to see what sort of ship—whose ship—would arrive from the Gamma Quadrant. With the explosive devices found aboard the station, as well as the recent interference with transmissions through the communications relay, Ro felt she had good reason to worry just who or what might emerge from the wormhole.
In the center of the dazzling maelstrom, a small, dark shape came into view, its contours curved and uneven. “Magnifying,” said Colonel Cenn from the general-services console, and the shape grew to fill the screen. A vessel, its rounded, asymmetrical form distinctly marking it as of Breen origin.
“It’s a freighter,” Cenn said.
“Its navigational beacon identifies it as the Ren Fejin,” Dalin Slaine reported at her tactical station.
Cenn worked his controls. “Records show that it entered the wormhole two and a half months ago,” he said.
“Look at the charred areas on its hull,” Chief Blackmer said, pointing toward the viewscreen. “It looks like it’s been in battle.”
Ro initially hadn’t seen the burned patches on the Breen ship, but once Blackmer called attention to them, she did. “Why would anybody fire on a civilian vessel with virtually no weaponry?” she asked. “And how would such a vessel survive an attack like that?”
As though in direct response to her question, a spread of narrow blue beams streaked across the viewer. The image on the screen quickly changed, reverting to the previous, more expansive vista. Defiant appeared off to the side, slowly approaching the maw of the wormhole and discharging the blue beams from its forward emitters.
“The Defiant is projecting a multiphase tachyon detection grid,” said Slaine. Since Typhon Pact vessels had first entered the Gamma Quadrant a couple of months earlier, Ro had added to the list of high-alert procedures a check for cloaked ships—including phase-cloaked vessels—traveling through the wormhole. Before the discovery of the explosive devices in the lower core, she had called no such alerts.
On the viewscreen, the Breen freighter passed through the blue tachyon beams, completely unaffected by them. Seconds passed, and Ro began to relax as the Defiant crew’s attempt at detection revealed nothing. But then the focused particle beams reflected off a surface that, the instant before, hadn’t seemed to be there.
“Shields up!” Ro called out.
“Captain,” said Blackmer beside her, “if the bombs should detonate while the shields are raised—”
“If that cloaked ship fires on us without shields,” Ro said, interrupting the security chief, “the energy discharge to the station could trigger the bombs.”
Blackmer said nothing more, and Ro peered over at Dalin Slaine.
“Shields are up,” said the tactical officer.
Prynn Tenmei sat on the bridge of Defiant, at the bowed forward console that combined the conn and ops functions. She kept her eyes focused on the main viewscreen as Lieutenant Aleco launched a tachyon spread from his position at the tactical station. The Breen cargo vessel passed through the bright blue beams without incident, and Tenmei waited for the wormhole to close so that they could be sure that no cloaked ships had followed from the Gamma Quadrant.
The instant that a tachyon beam bounced off an invisible surface, Tenmei sent her hands swiftly across her control panel. Even as Lieutenant Commander Stinson called from the captain’s chair for a tractor beam to capture the unknown ship, Tenmei prepared Defiant for what might come next. On the viewer, as the wormhole folded in on itself to a bright speck and disappeared, she saw the tachyon beams replaced by the white rays of a tractor field. They reached for the target and found it, but then the entire mass of the invisible ship faded into view, like the materialization effect of a silent transporter.
A Romulan warbird appeared within the tractor field.
“Evasive!” yelled Stinson, even as twin green streaks leaped toward Defiant.
The tractor beam disengaged as the disruptor blasts landed. Defiant quaked as Tenmei brought the ship about, anticipating the order for weapons—“Fire forward phasers!” called Stinson—but knowing that there wouldn’t be time for a weapons lock before the warbird fired again. She turned the ship sharply, wanting to offer its narrower lateral profile as she gained Aleco a few seconds to employ the weapons to their fullest advantage. The helm seemed sluggish, but Tenmei realized that a combination of fear and impatience had heightened her perceptions. Defiant moved, and it moved fast, and she thought that the ship might elude the second attack.
It didn’t.
Defiant shook violently as another set of disruptors pounded into the hull.
“Shields down to eighty-one percent,” said Aleco. “Firing phasers.”
Tenmei heard the pulse of the weapons as they discharged, and imagined the deadly, red-tinged yellow beams surging toward the Romulan starship.
“Direct hit on their port wing,” said Aleco, but the satisfaction Tenmei heard in those words lasted only until his next one: “Incoming!”
Seconds later, Defiant pitched violently to starboard, and Tenmei slammed hard into the side of her console as the inertial dampers faltered before stabilizing again. Amid the cacophony, she heard cries of pain behind her. The overhead lighting died, replaced a few seconds later by the red glow of emergency lights.
“Shields down to sixty-nine percent,” called Aleco over the tumult.
“Fire quantum torpedoes!” yelled Stinson.
Tenmei felt the rumble of Defiant’s torpedoes as they tore out into space, seeking the hard, green metal of the Romulan warbird. But then the ship bucked again. Tenmei heard a mix of voices issuing orders and shouting reports. Only one word meant anything to her—“Evasive!”—and she worked to move Defiant out of the line of fire.
When Ro saw the Romulan warbird appear in front of the wormhole, she knew that they had all been deceived: she and her crew, the Federation Council, President Bacco, everybody. If the warbird turned out to be the starship that had accompanied Enterprise on the joint mission, then it had clearly left its Starfleet counterpart behind. Probably in pieces, Ro thought grimly. If the ship turned out to be a different warbird, then some other Imperial Fleet vessel had illegally stolen into the Gamma Quadrant. Either way, events seemed incompatible with the idea of the Typhon Pact genuinely seeking peace.
“Ready all weapons,” Ro said as the Romulan ship exchanged fire with Defiant.
“Phasers and quantum torpedoes armed,” said Slaine.
“Concentrate on their engines,” Ro said. “I want that ship stopped. Fire!”
The station rumbled as weapons launched from up and down the docking pylons. On the ops viewer, Ro watched bright blue packets soar away from DS9 and toward the Romulan warbird, the quantum torpedoes seeking their mark. Golden streaks of phaser fire followed.
They were all intercepted.
Another ship appeared in the line of fire as though out of nowhere, a great silver, teardrop-shaped vessel that Ro recognized at once as a Tzenkethi marauder. The ship shuddered beneath the assault of the station’s weapons, its shields flaring, but then brilliant white filaments flashed from a dark recess on the otherwise smooth hull. Deep Space 9 lurched as the plasma cannon landed its salvo.
“Shields down to eighty-seven percent,” Slaine called out.
“Target the Tzenkethi’s weapons,” Ro told her. “Fire at will.”
On the screen, the captain saw the station’s phasers slice through space, picking out the dark hollow from where the plasma cannon had attacked. A trio of quantum torpedoes followed, causing the Tzenkethi ship’s shields to flare even more brightly. In the distance, flashes of blue and yellow and green marked the battlefield of Defiant and the Romulan warbird.
“Cenn,” Ro said. “Emergency message to the Canterbury. I know they’re off-loading evacuees, but tell them we’re under attack and require the earliest possible assistance.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Ro watched the plasma-cannon emplacement to see if it would fire again, but instead saw a second section of the Tzenkethi ship’s hull retracting, revealing another recess. White fire seared from within, landing another plasma blast on the station. Ro almost went down as DS9 shook, but she grabbed the side of the situation table.
“Shields down to sixty-one percent,” Slaine said.
Suddenly, a pair of golden phaser beams rocketed into the Tzenkethi ship, precisely at the location of the second plasma cannon. A second later, Ro saw a runabout dart past. As she watched, it launched a volley of micro-torpedoes.
“Four runabouts have returned from Bajor,” Cenn said.
“The marauder’s shields are on the verge of overloading,” Slaine said.
If we can just hold out until the Canterbury gets here, Ro thought. For the moment, it seemed at least a possibility.
But then Lieutenant Commander Candlewood said, “Another ship is decloaking.” He peered over at Ro from his sciences station. “It’s Breen.”
Ro couldn’t believe it. For months, the Typhon Pact not only had spoken of peace, but had seemingly taken an active role in trying to make it happen. And now they’re attacking us? she thought.
But she couldn’t concern herself with the politics and treachery of it all. How many people are left on the station? Thirteen hundred civilians, nine hundred crew? Somehow, she had to keep them safe.
On the main screen, the runabout raced back into view, joined by a second one. Both fired phasers and torpedoes in concert, all of them striking within a small locus on the marauder’s hull. Again, the Tzenkethi vessel’s shields flared, this time more brightly than ever. Its tapering tip spun around as the ship started to move away. As it swung around, it struck one of the runabouts, carving through its hull with ease. The shattered vessel twisted through space, out of control. It clipped the side of a cargo ship, changed direction, then erupted in a fiery explosion.
And then Deep Space 9 rocked again.
“It’s the Breen ship,” Slaine said. “Shields down to forty-nine percent.”
“Fire on the Breen,” Ro said. “And show them to me.”
The scene on the main screen changed, bringing the Breen warship into view. An assembly of arcs of different sizes and opposing orientations, the powerful vessel had wasted no time in attacking. Even as DS9’s own weapons struck the ship, multiple disruptor bolts lashed out and slammed into the station.
Ro flew from her feet, pain screaming through her body as her arm caught beneath her when she landed on the deck. She cried out, but immediately pushed herself up with her other arm. But the station shook again, and she fell backward.
“Shields at twenty-seven percent,” Slaine said.
“Continuous weapons fire,” Ro yelled from her place on the deck. “Pound them with every last torpedo.”
Ro shifted around on the deck to peer at the main viewer. On it, she watched as phaser beams streaked en masse into the Breen ship, like golden fire raining down upon it. Quantum torpedoes followed, bombarding the hull. Ro saw jets of gas vent from the ship in two different places, signaling ruptures in its hull.
“They’ve got a hull breach,” announced Candlewood. “Make that two.”
Like the Tzenkethi ship, the Breen vessel started to move away. “Stop firing only once they’re out of range,” said Ro, finally climbing to her feet on the unsteady deck. “We need to—”
A roar filled ops, a sound like none Ro had ever heard, and DS9 moved like the surface of a planet during a massive temblor. The captain grabbed for the situation table and held on, bending over it to help her stay on her feet. She didn’t know which starship had fired on them, or what weapon they had used, but it seemed miraculous that the station hadn’t blasted apart.
“Shields are down,” said Slaine.
When the inertial dampers stabilized, Ro peered at the main viewer, expecting to see that the Breen starship had rammed DS9, but instead, she saw that it still moved away. “Who hit us?”
“Nobody,” Cenn said, staring down at his console. “One of the bombs detonated. Containment on reactor two has failed.”
The faces of the security officers working at that reactor to render the bomb harmless rose in Ro’s mind. Costello. Parks. They’d been on the station for a long time. And so many other officers had been down in the lower core as well.
“Reactor two will go critical in seven minutes,” Cenn said.
“Prepare to eject the reactor,” Ro said, and then a terrible thought occurred to her. “Are there any runabouts or civilian ships in the way?”
Candlewood answered from his station. “Scanning,” he said. “We’ve got three runabouts and six civilian vessels in the area, but none of them in the ejection path.”
Ro looked to Cenn. “Warn them all.” If they ejected the reactor and it should impact a ship—
“Hold on,” Ro said. “Cenn, can we use thrusters to turn the station? Use the reactor as a weapon against the Breen or the Tzenkethi ships?”
Cenn shook his head. “Not in the condition we’re in,” he said. “Shields are gone, we’ve got—”
Another roar filled ops, and the station quaked again. Ro went sprawling, her injured arm just one of the many pains she felt as she struck the side of a console, then fell to the deck. And still DS9 trembled.
When it stopped, an eerie silence descended around Ro. Then she began to hear small noises: creaks and scrapes, bodies moving slowly on the deck, people groaning in agony. “Cenn?” she called out.
“Here,” he said from the vicinity of his console.
Ro hauled herself up on the edge of a workstation and looked across ops to see Cenn climbing to his feet. He leaned heavily on his console and delivered the news that Ro expected.
“Another of the bombs went off,” he said. “Reactor three’s containment is down.”
“Eject both reactors,” Ro said. “Do it now.”
Cenn worked at his console, and the station bucked with the ejection of the two cores. Ro looked back at the main viewer, wanting to check on the Breen ship. It had moved farther from DS9, and while one of its hull breaches had clearly been sealed, the other still sent a long jet of atmosphere out into space. For the moment, it seemed to—
“Captain,” Cenn said, and Ro turned back to look at him. “I’ve ejected reactor three, but the bomb that took down its containment also damaged the ejection mechanism for reactor two.”
“We can’t eject the other reactor?” Ro said, unable to keep the shock from her voice. So much for whoever planted the bombs not wanting to destroy the station, she thought. Even with everything that had happened, she’d expected somehow to save DS9 and all—or at least most—of the people aboard it.
Cenn shook his head.
Twenty-two hundred people left, Ro thought, horrified.
Unwilling to surrender, she said, “Desca, seal all emergency bulkheads. Route as much power as possible to the structural integrity fields.” Cenn went to work immediately.
Peering over at Candlewood, who stood back at his station, Ro said, “John, contact the runabouts. See if—”
His sciences console emitted a familiar tone, and he glanced down at the panel. Ro knew what he would say even before he looked back up at her. “Captain,” he said, “the wormhole is opening again.”
Seemingly out of nowhere within the river of color and light, the mouth of the wormhole formed, the amorphous construct gyrating to slide the walls that enclosed it into an opening to the stars. On the main viewscreen, a familiar constellation showed directly in its center, shining across the space of the Alpha Quadrant: the Dawn. Then the ship exited the wormhole and entered hell.
Captain Benjamin Sisko jumped up from the command chair and hurried forward, his eyes locked on the viewer. He tried to take it all in and couldn’t seem to do so. Defiant and a Romulan warbird locked in battle. A Tzenkethi marauder appearing damaged. A Breen warship venting atmosphere. DS9 looking beaten and battered, half of the lights along the docking ring dark. Other, smaller ships moving about … runabouts … freighters.
Xhosa!
Sisko heard people speaking … his crew … but their words didn’t reach him. Kasidy’s ship, he thought in desperation. A plume of gas rushed out from one side of Xhosa as it tumbled toward the marauder. “Sivadeki,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Set course for—”
The Tzenkethi starship reeled around, its tapered end cutting through space. It impacted Xhosa amidships. For just a moment, Sisko dared hope that the ship would survive the collision, but then it blew up, sending chunks of its hull spinning off in every direction.
“No!” Sisko cried out. His knees gave out, and he crumpled to the deck. “Kas,” he said, his voice dripping with anguish. And she was going to bring—“Rebecca. No.”
Sisko felt a hand on his back. He knew people were speaking to him, that his crew was speaking to him, but their voices came to him as though from far away. He couldn’t understand them … couldn’t understand anything.
He looked up at the screen again, the scene blurred through his tears. He wiped them away and stared at the viewer, as though his eyes might have lied to him, and if he kept looking, he might see Xhosa there, intact and safe.
But Kasidy’s ship wasn’t there. And still he stared. And hoped. Wanting to take back everything he’d done wrong, all the time he’d wasted.
And then Deep Space 9 exploded.