SISKO'S EYEBROWS ROSE as he saw Kira coming into Ops. There were deep shadows of exhaustion surrounding her eyes, and her shoulders seemed to sag with weariness. "Major, you should get some rest. Is your suspect in custody?"
"The suspect is dead. But I have his confession on record."
Solemnly, Sisko called up the recording from the computer and viewed Leiris's last moments on the main screen. When it was over, he glanced at Kira, seated at the first officer's console. Despite the fatigue that showed on her face, her expression as she stared at the viewscreen was as hard and implacable as stone. He was aware that she had known the dead monk as a spiritual advisor, even an old friend. His betrayal must have affected her, no matter that she wasn't showing it openly.
Later, maybe, he might be able to talk to her about it. Offer what comfort he could. But there was no time for that now. Already, even before the recording was finished, a number of ambassadors had started to express their reactions, not all of them in temperate language.
It had been the course of least resistance to allow them into Ops, a decision that Sisko was already regretting. They questioned his decisions at every turn, interfered with normal operations, and frequently turned on each other to squabble over some trivial point of politics or protocol.
On seeing the final image of Leiris, the Klingon made a low growl deep in his throat, fingering the handle of his ceremonial sword. "It is well for the traitor that he is already dead."
"So, the bombs were set by a Bajoran terrorist," the Rigellian declared in a tone of vindication.
"Working for the Cardassians. Paid off with gold," the Tellarite sneered.
"You believe that transparent lie?" the Rigellian demanded.
Sisko hesitated to interrupt their quarrel. These were the people he had to convince. These were his witnesses.
But the Qismilian was lashing her tail, a dangerous sign. She looked from the viewscreen to Kira, then to Sisko. "Commander, is this true, what she says? The bomb is found? The danger to the station is over? If this is so, then why are we kept here? Why are we not told this?"
Kira went pale and started to speak, but Sisko was quicker. "It is true," he said, weaving together a fabric of lies and truth he hoped would convince them, "that we did locate and disarm one explosive device. But there may well be others. As you should well know after your tragic experience, Madame Ambassador."
"But you insisted that we remain on the station," the Tellarite said, frowning suspiciously. "You, personally, guaranteed our safety."
Sisko shook his head. "I'm afraid, if you recall, that what I said was I could not guarantee your safety if your ship attempted to leave."
"Klingon warships do not run in fear of terrorists," that ambassador stated firmly, glaring around the room as if he were challenging anyone to dispute him.
"Are you calling us cowards?" the Aresian bristled.
Kira wanted to close her eyes, she wanted to sleep. The quarreling of the foreign trade delegates was reaching a high pitch that was bringing back her headache. Her job was finished, with Leiris dead, but it would have been unthinkable not to be in Ops when they finally confronted the Cardassian.
Trying to ignore the disruption, she glanced around the room. There, quiet and inconspicuous in one corner, was the commander's son. He seemed anxious, as if he understood what was happening here. But—suddenly Kira stood up. What was that he had?
The boy started at the sight of her. "Major Kira?"
"Jake? Just what is that thing? It looks like Cardassian equipment?"
The boy's expression was slightly defensive. "Berat fixed it for me."
"Could I see it?"
He handed it to her. "It works. Only I don't understand much Cardassian—"
"But I do." She turned the unit over, flipped through its frequencies. Cardassian voices came through, faint but clear. It was routine comm traffic: navigation data, orders from security to maintenance, from bridge to engineering …
Kira's eyes went wide as she recognized Gul Marak's voice.
Just then, Commander Sisko shouted out loud, "Quiet!" and the deck of Ops went suddenly silent.
Poised on the point of drawing swords, the ambassadors turned to stare at him.
"Security will evict the next person to cause a disruption of any kind. The lives of everyone on this station may depend on your silence." He paused to emphasize the order with a dark scowl.
Then, "On screen. Let's see the Swift Striker again."
At the sight of the Cardassian warship, menacing on the huge overhead display, the belligerent mood of the ambassadors faded. They all were well aware that the ship's weapons banks could easily obliterate an undefended space station like DS-Nine. Suddenly, it seemed all too probable, especially if Leiris's confession had been true.
Staring up at the image, Sisko felt the full, oppressive weight of responsibility. It all came down to him now: the man in the commander's seat. If he failed, if he had been wrong, then it would mean more than just the loss of DS-Nine and all the lives it held. The onus of the crime would fall on the Bajorans, and no world in the Federation or its allies would object when Gul Marak seized the Gamma Quadrant wormhole for the Cardassians.
It was frightening to think that the only thing which might prevent this was a single bomb, an object so small that a man could hold it on the palm of his hand. If O'Brien had done his work well, it was now planted somewhere on the Swift Striker. And there was only one man who could set it off, only one man now alive who knew the correct code and frequency to detonate it.
"Commander!"
Sisko turned to see Major Kira, holding out a small object. He recognized a Cardassian communicator. "What the …"
Kira hit a switch, and there, plainly, came Gul Marak's voice confirming a course setting for his navigator. Sisko's eyebrows raised, and then a grin broke out on his face.
He looked up to the main viewscreen. "Get me Gul Marak."
The voice from the communicator: "Sisko on the comm? Flakk it, why now? What does he want?"
"Yes, yes, I'll talk to him. Put him through."
Now all of Ops was silent, almost holding their breath, straining to hear the voice coming through the small comm unit.
In an instant, the face of the Cardassian commander appeared. He didn't look as if he had expected to hear from Sisko, but neither did he seem displeased at another opportunity to gloat over the enemy commander. "Well, Sisko. So, have you changed your mind? Are you asking me to come back and evacuate your crew from the station? But don't you think you're a little too close to the deadline? I'm not sure if I ought to risk my ship."
Sisko's speech was formal and rather stiff. "We're searching for a fugitive, Gul Marak. A suspect in the bombings, a man pretending to be a Bajoran monk, using the name Leiris. We have reason to believe he might have boarded your ship."
Kira adjusted the Cardassian comm unit, and a voice came through: "The Bajoran traitor? No, he never came on board. Good riddance, I say!"
On the main screen, Marak laughed. "You amaze me, Sisko! You really do. Asking me to return a Bajoran fugitive! Well! What do you say to a trade, then? My traitor for yours? Or have you forgotten about that inconsequential matter? The Cardassian murderer that you gave asylum? Well," and suddenly Marak scowled menacingly, "I can assure you that I have not."
"Then you have this Leiris in custody?" Sisko asked, ignoring the threat and hoping that his voice conveyed a sense of urgency. He hated this business of deception, but it was necessary.
"Unfortunately, no. It's too bad, isn't it? We might have been able to make some kind of deal."
"Maybe he stowed away somewhere on your ship. Our information was very clear."
Now Marak was sounding impatient. "Sisko, believe me: if there were a Bajoran on my ship, I'd know about it!"
Sisko took hold of his seat and leaned forward. Behind him, the watching ambassadors held their breaths. "Gul Marak, our situation here is desperate. We think this man may have planted another device somewhere on the station. It could go off at any time now. It's already been almost seventy-two hours since we found the warning. We need to be able to locate this bomb before it's too late!"
From the comm unit came faint but clearly scornful laughter.
"Well, then that's your problem, Commander," Marak sneered. "You should have evacuated your personnel earlier. I tell you again, for the last time: We don't have the man. Anyway, what makes you believe a Bajoran would ever think of escaping on a Cardassian ship?"
"We have evidence. Cardassian-minted coins were discovered with his possessions. They were gold-pressed latinum."
Marak's eyes narrowed. He snorted, "Cardassian latinum? That's your evidence? That's all you know?"
"We've checked our records. It seems that this monk, or whatever he was, had prior connections with the Kohn Ma. When our security officers searched his quarters, they found the latinum. Unfortunately, they weren't able to apprehend the suspect himself."
From the comm unit: "Program the detonation sequence. Here's the code."
Now a grin appeared on Marak's face, growing slowly. He reminded Sisko of a shark about to snap its jaws shut on its prey. "I see the efficiency of your security officers hasn't improved, Sisko. Maybe you should hang one or two of them up for a few days, as an example to the rest. It works wonders for morale. Anyway, this terrorist is probably somewhere at large on your station. Or maybe he escaped already on some other ship. I don't really care.
"But I tell you what, Sisko. Here's one final offer. Surrender Deep Space Nine to me. Officially cede the Gamma Quadrant wormhole to the Cardassian government. Then we can talk. Otherwise, I'll enjoy watching you all die."
"You seem very sure of yourself, Gul."
"Oh, yes, I am. This is your last warning, Sisko. The deadline is up. Surrender the station now or start counting down your last seconds."
Slowly, "That sounds like a threat, Marak."
"Take it any way you want. You don't have any other choice. Frankly, Sisko, I'm only making this offer because I'd rather have the station's facilities intact. It is Cardassian, after all. And it makes a convenient base of operations for whoever controls the wormhole. As you well know. Otherwise I wouldn't bother." He laughed. "Whatever you do, the wormhole is Cardassian now. As it would have been, all along, if it weren't for the acts of traitors."
"So you did give Leiris the latinum. And the explosives. He was your agent on DS-Nine. It was all a Cardassian plot to get control of the wormhole."
"Detonation sequence is set. Frequency eight eight four three two."
"Eight eight four three two. Ready."
In the background, the Klingon ambassador took hold of his sword hilt, but he caught himself and kept silent.
Marak had stopped laughing. "Suit yourself, Sisko. But I like our story better. Bajoran terrorists blowing up their own station. Killing Starfleet officers and their own civilians. Who'll ever doubt it? Everyone in the galaxy knows what the Bajorans are by now." He held up his hand, one finger poised over a control on the ship's command console. "This is it, Sisko. Make up your mind. Do I get the station, or blow it up?"
That was it, Gul Marak had confessed. It wasn't too late. Sisko half-rose from his seat. "Marak! I'm warning you. Don't do it!"
"You're warning me?"
"The bomb—it's not planted on my reactor now. It's on yours!"
Marak laughed again. "A good try, Sisko. But not good enough!" His finger stabbed down onto the control, and at that moment the image from the Swift Striker's bridge broke up into a random pattern of static on DS-Nine's main viewscreen.
For an instant, there was an awed silence in the Operations Center. Only O'Brien breathed, "The bastard really did it!"
Then the image re-formed into the external view of the Swift Striker against the dark backdrop of space. The real damage to the ship wasn't visible—there was only a small area on the hull where the bomb had gone off and the plates were twisted and blown.
But over Jake's comm unit came the sound of Cardassian voices, swearing in panic, frantically issuing orders.
"What's wrong? What's wrong?"
"There's no power!"
"Engineering, curse you—report!"
"It's the main power linkage node in sector forty! It's blown!"
"Bypass!"
"The structural integrity field isn't holding! I read total power loss!"
"Cut engines! Full stop!"
"I'm trying to bypass!"
"Damn computer! Override! Override!"
"Pressure loss in sector eighty!"
From her scan console, Dax's cool voice reported, "I'm reading massive energy loss. The structural integrity field isn't holding—no, it's completely down now. The ship is decelerating, but I'm starting to pick up hull integrity failure on the right wing."
Everyone stared at the visual screen. The Galor-class warship slightly resembled a ray from Earth's oceans, with two wide-swept wings forward. Now, at the edge of the right wing, there were hull plates pulling loose, parting under the unshielded stress of acceleration. With the structural integrity field down, the Swift Striker's own mass was pulling it apart.
"Very good work, Chief," Sisko said to O'Brien with a coolness he didn't quite feel. Inside him was elation tempered with horrified awe. No one who had ever served on starships could view this kind of destruction unmoved. Even if Gul Marak had unequivocally called down his ruin on himself. A ship was dying out there. Men inside it were dying.
He still held the comm unit.
"We're losing atmosphere!"
"The right wing is breaking up!"
"Abandon ship! Abandon ship! All nonessential crew to the lifeboats!"
"Can you contact the ship?" Sisko asked communications.
"Their communications are dead, Commander."
Tearing his eyes away from the disintegrating ship, he looked again at the small communicator, found the switch to transmit. "Gul Marak, this is DS-Nine. Do you need assistance?"
In a moment he heard Marak's voice, harsh with rage. "Curse you, Sisko! Cardassians would rather die than accept aid from you and your Bajoran scum!"
"One lifeboat away," Dax reported from her station.
Sisko nodded. He could see it on the main viewscreen. As the Swift Striker broke up, more of the small craft pulled away from the stricken ship, heading back under their own power toward Cardassian territory, going home in failure and disgrace.
"Lieutenant Dax," Sisko ordered finally, "I want you, Chief O'Brien, and Dr. Bashir to take the runabouts out there and see if you can find any survivors."
Sisko didn't mention the fact, but everyone knew it would be nonsurvivors they were most likely going to find among the wreckage of the Cardassian ship. The victims of its commander's treachery.