Dax's expression changed from mischievous to one of pure horror. O'Brien popped his head up from the side of the chamber. "You can't make that kind of diagnosis from two tricorder scans, Julian," Dax said.
"I'm afraid I can, Lieutenant," he said, keeping everything formal. "Cells are cells, whether they belong to Jibetians or Trills. Everything in the universe does run along the same plan. Cells have a particular life span. A cold-sleep chamber slows that span, but it does little else to lengthen it. Had this man slept the requisite number of years planned for the mission, he would have awakened aged only a few months. I dare say he's been here much longer than they ever planned for. His cells have the equivalent of freezer burn."
"Doctor," O'Brien said, "that's not any patient. That's the Supreme Ruler of eighty worlds."
Bashir started. They could have warned him about this before he came down. "Nonetheless," he said, "my analysis stands. It will take nothing short of a miracle to revive this man."
"Well," Dax said, her voice jaunty even though her expression was haunted, "time to add miracles to your repertoire, Doctor."
"This would be much simpler if we could beam this chamber onto the Defiant and take the whole thing back to the station," Bashir said. "If we did that, I might have a chance at saving this man. As it is, you're expecting me to do delicate work with thermometers and comm badges."
"With what?" Dax asked, stunned.
"It's just an expression," Bashir said. He rummaged in his bag, hoping he had brought everything he needed.
"I'm sorry, Julian," O'Brien said, "but I've been examining this chamber, and even if we wanted to beam it to the Defiant, we couldn't. This platform only carries half of the systems that are keeping this man alive. The rest are imbedded in the floors and walls of the room, and this room would take up more space in the Defiant than we have available. Even if we had the opportunity to beam it aboard, we simply couldn't. You'll have to work with the equipment you brought along."
Despite the cold, Bashir felt nervous sweat form on his back. He felt like he had when he took the final test for his medical license, the day after he had finished his finals at the Academy. He wanted to practice frontier medicine. It didn't get any more frontier than this.
"Then, Chief, please get the cold-sleep equipment I brought with me. I'll need your help rigging this up." Bashir glanced at Dax's tricorder. "We may have already had our miracle," he said, addressing his remarks to the tiny piece of equipment in her hand. "No cold-sleep system was ever designed for this many centuries. The fact that it even works is astounding."
"I'll say." O'Brien's voice echoed from below the platform.
Bashir removed three devices he hadn't used in a long, long time. Time to forget the impossibility, forget the expectations, forget the importance of his patient. It was time to get to work.
"Well, your highness," Bashir said softly, turning back to the cold-sleep chamber. "Let's see what I can do to save your life. All eight hundred years of it."
CHAPTER
11
THE BAR WAS UGLY when it was empty. Quark could see the ripped felt on the Dabo table, the jagged edges where the chair legs had been repaired, the missing paint on the walls. Rom was on his hands, scrubbing the floor. It hadn't been cleaned since the riot. When Dax returned, Quark would charge her for every single drink.
And then some.
The red alert lights flashed in the empty hall. The force field shimmered across the door. That hadn't been necessary. Quark would have stayed in the bar if someone asked him. But no one asked him. They had imprisoned him. With Rom. And no customers. They'd even let the Dabo girl go.
"Where do you suppose Nog is?" Rom asked.
"If I knew, I'd bring him here and have him scrub the bar with an ear pick. We needed that boy this afternoon. I can't believe you allow him to come and go as he pleases."
"He's almost an adult," Rom said. "He's going to go to the Academy."
"Which is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Where's the profit in that, Rom? His exposure to humans has taught him the wrong values, despite everything I've done for him."
"I'm proud of Nog," Rom said. He had his back to Quark, his arm moving frantically as he worked at getting spilled sweet nectar off the floor.
"You would be. You haven't a profit-making bone in your body. If you did, this bar would do better."
"This bar is yours, Brother. I merely help you."
Quark sighed and sat on a barstool. He put his chin in his hand. "It's not fair that they've trapped us in here. Odo only did it because Commander Sisko is gone. It has nothing to do with the red alert. It's just Odo. And I won't stand for it."
Rom sat on his haunches. He didn't say anything, but Quark recognized the warning expression on Rom's face.
"What? I figure they can use my services. The red alert probably has something to do with the discovery, right? So they'll need my knowledge. They just don't realize it yet."
"Brother—"
"And they'll be grateful. Very grateful."
"Brother—"
"Yeah," he muttered. "Grateful." He reached across the bar and tapped the comm switch.
"Odo, listen. You can't imprison us in here. We have valuable knowledge that could—" He stopped and frowned. His voice sounded wrong. "Odo?" He flicked the switch again. "Major?" Again. "Odo?" And again. "Anybody?"
Quark stood and examined the panel behind the bar.
"I was trying to tell you, Brother," Rom said. "They isolated us when they turned on the force field."
"They can't do that. What if we were in trouble? What if they needed our help?"
"I thought you said they did need our help." Rom was standing now, his scrub brush on the floor near his feet. A large sudsy puddle pooled beneath a table and began to trickle toward the stairs.
Quark pounded the intercom one more time and got no response. He slapped his hand on the bar.
"That does it." Quark went around behind the bar and pulled open a drawer. "I let more wealth than any Ferengi's ever seen slip through my fingers, and as a reward I get locked up here with you. I don't care what Commander Sisko threatened. Nothing is worse than this."
"Brother, you gave your word," Rom said.
"A Ferengi's word is worth nothing without profit," Quark said. "If I get the wealth off that ship, I will be more powerful than the Grand Nagus. I won't need this silly little bar and I won't have to listen to Commander Benjamin Sisko."
Quark riffled through the drawer and finally pulled out a pistol-shaped object covered with Ferengi designs. He slid it across the bar.
"Take that," Quark said. "We're getting out of here."
The puddle had pooled around Rom's boots, but he didn't move. "I don't believe in violence, brother."
"I'm not saying you should," Quark snapped. "Who are you going to shoot anyway? Me?"
"I can't help you," Rom said. "It's not right." Quark glanced at the tool on the bar. "It's a cutting torch, you idiot. Now pick it up and come with me. I'm going after that treasure ship."
"If I help you, will I get a share of the profits?"
"You'll get the bar," Quark said. "Now take the torch."
Rom crossed his arms. His hands were red and puckered from the strength of the soap. "I don't want the bar. I want a share of the profits."
"For what?" Quark asked. "You don't know how to invest. You'd just waste the money on frivolous things."
"I want it to pay for Rom's schooling."
Quark gaped at him. The entire world had turned around. Schooling? The next thing Rom would tell him was that he had found a good Ferengi woman and was going to dress her and give her a home on DS9.
"See?" Quark said. "I told you that you'd spend it on something frivolous. You can have the bar. It's worth a little bit of money. And I won't be needing it any more."
"If you give me the bar," Rom said, "I'll sell it."
"I won't care what you do with it, dimwit," Quark said. "I'll be the richest man in the galaxy."
When Rom reached his side, Quark pointed to a plain metal bulkhead. "Cut a small hole in there, chest high, but big enough for us to crawl through."
"We can't tunnel our way to the docks," Rom said. "It'll take weeks."
"We don't have to tunnel, dear Brother," Quark said. "The Cardassians already did that for us. There's a series of spy tunnels behind this wall that extend all the way through the Promenade, into the main guest quarters, and around Ops. The first rule of Cardassian life. Trust no one. They used to spy on their own through that grate up there." He pointed up at what looked to be a return air duct.
"How did you find out about it?" Rom asked.
Quark laughed. "I've always said knowledge equals profits, Rom. You'd do well to remember that. And it's my business to know everything about this bar."
Rom still held back, clutching the cutting tool. "What if we see Cardassians in there?"
"We won't, you idiot. Those tunnels have been deserted since the Cardassians left. And it's not like the Federation to use them, even if they did discover them." Quark pointed to the wall. "Now cut. And don't make the hole too big. I want to cover it up with a chair when this is all done."
The atmosphere on the bridge of the Defiant was tense. Sisko hadn't worked with a crew this young since he trained cadets years before. He had forgotten the terror new crew members felt when doing new tasks and facing new challenges.
He rarely felt terror any more.
He was too experienced for it and had too much control. Now he knew that new challenges were inevitable, and mistakes were part of learning. A good commander faced the challenges and moved beyond the mistakes.
There had already been more challenges than he wanted on this mission and not quite the normal number of mistakes with a rookie crew. That knowledge made him nervous. Something would change, and when it did, he was afraid it wouldn't be in his favor.
"We're at full stop," Ensign Kathé said. She had maneuvered the Defiant halfway between the Nibix and Deep Space Nine. They were under cloak, monitoring the Cardassians bearing down on the station. So far the Cardassians had assumed the Defiant had returned to the station. Sisko hoped they would continue to believe that.
"I want the entire bridge crew to be scanning for anything unusual out there," Sisko said. Had it been his normal staff, he wouldn't have told them. But he had to reaffirm everything here for his own peace of mind.
He did feel a little out of control on this one. Kira and Odo were responsible for the station now, for everyone on it, including Jake.
Dax, O'Brien, and Bashir were responsible for the Nibix, for the Supreme Ruler, and for future relations with the Jibetians.
And Sisko, the man nominally in control, was the one stuck in space, a glorified bodyguard, waiting.
"Sir," Ensign Dodds said, "two starships are approaching Deep Space Nine at full warp."
"Federation ships?" Sisko asked, his mouth dry.
"Aye, sir," she said.
"Sir, they're hailing the station," Ensign Coleman said. "The Starship Madison will arrive in about a half an hour, followed by the Starship Idaho an hour later. They expect to rendezvous with the Starship Bosewell in a few hours."
Sisko let out the breath he had been holding. The ships arrived too soon for Kira to have contacted them. The Federation had sent them. But he didn't know why.
"Any communications as to their mission?" Sisko asked.
Ensign Coleman shook his head. "No, sir. But Major Kira just informed them that the station was on red alert."
So she had seen the Cardassians. Good. Sisko felt his shoulders relax. He could leave this mess to her for the moment.
"Commander," Ensign Dodds said, "there's something else here, something odd."
"What is it, Ensign?"
"A ten-ship fleet of Jibetian warships has just entered the space near the station. They'll arrive within the hour."
After the Madison was at the station. Captain Higginbotham had been on Utopia Planetia with Sisko. He was a good man, a savvy judge of character with excellent diplomatic skills. He would balance Kira well until Sisko arrived.
Sisko stood and paced the bridge. He had several options himself. He could return to the station and get in the middle of the diplomatic tangle; he could stay here, guarding the Nibix; or he could return to the asteroid to help the crew below.
Kira would know the situation soon enough. Deep Space Nine would be a powder keg, with Cardassians, Jibetians, and three starship captains. Too many cooks, as his mother used to say. Sisko would only be one voice among many. Kira knew how to deal with the Cardassians, and Higginbotham would have control over the situation since he was the highestranking officer to arrive on the scene.
They didn't need Sisko.
He swallowed, beating down nerves. Normally he would head right back to the station to protect it, the wormhole, and Jake. But this wasn't a normal situation.
Because if Bashir, Dax, or O'Brien made any mistakes on the Nibix, the entire Federation would have to answer for them.
"Ensign Kathé," Sisko said. "Take us back to our former coordinates over the Nibix asteroid. We will remain cloaked. As such, our shields will remain down, and we will not send or receive communications."
"But, sir," Ensign Coleman said, "the station seems to be in trouble. Won't Major Kira need to reach us?"
"There's a leak on Deep Space Nine," Sisko said, not caring that Coleman breached protocol. "The last thing we need is for those two fleets of warships to converge over the asteroid. Any communication with the Defiant will show the Jibetians and the Cardassians where the Nibix is. Major Kira is a capable officer who has handled far worse situations. She will be fine."
"Aye, sir," Coleman said, but his tone remained unconvinced. All five ensigns were experienced enough to know that two different fleets and three starships hovering over a space station was a diplomatic nightmare at best, a holocaust at worst.
But nothing would happen until Sisko returned with news of the Nibix.
He hoped.
CHAPTER
12
KIRA PACED THROUGH OPS. She walked from the turbolift across the front, up the stairs, around Sisko's office, and back down again, all the time pretending to monitor the Ops crew. Instead, she was thinking. The Cardassians wouldn't dare touch the station. They had signed a treaty with the Federation. They had to be here as a warning.
Because of the Nibix?
They hadn't contacted her to say, and that bothered her more than anything. Tappan was monitoring them. Beth Jones now manned the science station in place of Dax. Three other ensigns were working the boards. Odo was checking the docks, making certain all the ships were secure. He would arrive shortly, and then she would have someone to talk to. Someone to confide in. Someone who understood.
Odo knew what it was like to face down Cardassian warships. Odo knew how difficult it was for her to follow Starfleet protocol when all her instincts urged guerrilla attack. Sometimes she thought she was happier in her rebel days, fighting for her people in the most creative way she could.
Not defending some wrecked ship that might hold the head of a religion she didn't understand.
And certainly not facing down Cardassians to do so.
"Major," Ensign Moesta said. She was monitoring communications. Deep shadows marred her eyes. She had been asleep when the red alert sounded, and Kira had sent for her, knowing that Ensign Moesta was one of the most invaluable members of Ops. "There's an incoming message from the Starship Madison."
The Madison was one of three ships that Admiral Wolfe had sent to assist her. The Idaho and the Bosewell would also come to the station soon. She had
been relieved to hear which ships were coming. She had met both Captains Higginbotham and Kiser before, a number of years back.
"Put it on screen," Kira said. She stopped in front of the closed door to Sisko's office, spread her legs slightly, put her shoulders back, and raised her chin. "Captain Higginbotham, this is Major Kira Nerys, first officer of the Federation Space Station Deep Space Nine. I understand you'll be joining us soon."
"And I wish it were a pleasure trip, Major." Captain Higginbotham's lean face appeared on the screen. Some gray had crept into his beard since she last saw him.
"So do I, Captain," Kira said.
"We're reading some unusual activity in your sector," Higginbotham said.
"We've dealt with Cardassians before, Captain," Kira said.
His smile was faint. He had heard her war stories all those years ago. "Indeed you have, Major, but that's not what disturbs me. It's the fleet of Jibetian warships that will join them in a few hours that has me the most concerned."
A chill ran down Kira's spine. The Madison's long-range sensors were more sophisticated than hers. She had known the Jibetians were going to come, but she hadn't realized they would arrive so soon. This drama would play out long before Sisko ever returned.
She gripped her fists behind her back. If she survived this, she'd give him a piece of her mind for going treasure hunting while she had to deal with the biggest diplomatic crisis of her career.
"I spoke with the Jibetians earlier," Kira said, deliberately keeping her voice calm. "They had said nothing about coming to the station."
"Jibetian politicians are rarely direct, Major," Higginbotham said. "I've dealt with them before. Their presence does not surprise me."
"The fact that they're bringing a fleet of ships has me rather concerned, Captain," Kira said. "The Cardassians are quick-tempered. Having two sets of warships near Deep Space Nine could create an incident if one lowly officer is trigger-happy."
"Certainly no one on your staff or mine fits that description, Major," Higginbotham said, clearly reading her concern about both groups, even though she had been less than honest about the cause. He knew, as she did, that the Jibetians and Cardassians were both after the Nibix and had no interest in the station at all. But in case one or both groups were monitoring, she had to play along with this scenario. "I estimate our arrival to be in twenty-two minutes. We will not dock, but instead will patrol the space near the station. The Idaho and Bosewell will do the same."
The Long Night Page 9