Miracle Workers

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  7

  Captain David Gold stared at the viewscreen, which presently showed him Empok Nor drifting in space. The station itself gave no clue as to its sinister new purpose.

  “You sure about this, Duffy?”

  “Completely? No. To be honest, we’d need about a year, a full research team, and a starbase facility to dope most of this stuff out. But they’ve definitely put some upgraded thrusters onto the lower pylons and some very nasty weapons systems into the upper pylons. We’re talking phasers at what I’d have to call level 30 or so.”

  “Damn,” Gold muttered. That was enough to split a planet in half.

  Stevens added, “It also looks like they’ve got some kind of plasma-based directed-energy weapons. I’ve never seen anything like them, and I couldn’t begin to figure out how powerful they are.”

  “Sir, if I may?” That was Nog’s voice.

  “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “I just examined the fusion core itself. These Androssi have also made modifications to it. Only one of the reactor chambers is actually running the station. The rest of it is powering a massive propulsion system that’s been integrated with the core itself. If I’m reading this right, it might well be capable of speeds up to warp 6.”

  “Captain,” Soloman put in, “I have communed with the station computer. It confirms what Mr. Stevens, Lieutenant Commander Duffy, and Lieutenant Nog have said. In addition, there are preparations under way, albeit incomplete, for the installation of quantum torpedo bays in the docking ring. Based on the specifications, the torpedoes would have a yield of approximately one thousand times that of the torpedoes on a Defiant-class ship.”

  David Gold tried to figure out a way that this all could be translated into good news, but couldn’t. A weapons platform the size and shape of Deep Space 9 capable of speeds up to warp 6 with enough weaponry to lay waste to a solar system in about half an hour, all in the hands of Biron.

  “ Gevalt,” he muttered. “All right, people, listen up. I want a full analysis of what the Androssi have done to the station.”

  “Sir, what about extracting the core?” Nog asked. Gold’s instinct was to tell the young Ferengi that they had bigger problems—but, of course, they didn’t. True, the Androssi were bad news—it would be decades before Maeglin fully recovered from what Biron and his crew did to the place—but Deep Space 9 was counting on that fusion core. They needed it, not just for the people on the station, but the billions of lives in the Bajoran sector that DS9 was responsible for.

  “We can do both, sir,” Duffy said before Gold could say anything. “Soloman can handle the analysis. Stevens and the lieutenant both know these systems well enough that they should be able to handle the computer even without his help.”

  “Good,” Gold said. “Then—”

  From ops, Lieutenant Ina interrupted. “Sir, long-range scans are picking up a vessel on direct approach to Empok Nor—traveling at warp 7.3.”

  “Identify.” Gold gripped the arms of his command chair. If the queasy feeling in his gizzard was any indication, it would be the Androssi. To his chagrin, his queasy gizzard had proven to be depressingly reliable over the years.

  “Configuration and power output matches that of the Androssi,” the Bajoran ops officer said. “Sensors say it’s a ninety percent match with the ship we encountered at Maeglin.”

  Gold muttered several curses in Yiddish. “Yellow alert.”

  “Transporter room to bridge.”

  “Go ahead, Feliciano.”

  “Sir, I’ve lost the lock on the away team.”

  “ Da Vinci to Duffy,” Gold said immediately. When no response was forthcoming, he turned to McAllan at tactical, who was operating his console and shaking his head. “I’ve lost the away team’s signals—all of them, even Lieutenant Nog’s. Something’s jamming them.”

  Gold muttered several more curses. “Engineering. Barnak, punch a hole through that damn interference, pronto.”

  Jil Barnak, the Atrean chief engineer of the da Vinci, said, “On it, sir.”

  “Androssi ship coming out of warp and on an intercept course with us,” Ina said.

  McAllan added, “They’re running weapons hot.”

  “Raise shields. Arm weapons, but don’t lock on yet. Let’s give them a chance to play nice.”

  Gold could feel McAllan’s dubious look without bothering to turn around and see it. The tactical officer said, “Sir—do you really think they’re going to?”

  “No,” Gold said with a grim smile. “But I like to live the life of a cockeyed optimist. Put ’em on screen.”

  The viewscreen’s image changed from Empok Nor to that of a familiar-looking ship. The hull was brown—just like Androssi skin, and the jumpsuits that they seemed to favor. Gold’s first impression of the Androssi had been that they had no aesthetic sense whatsoever, and their vessel design bore that out: the ship, which had no name as far as anyone knew, was basically a big box. Abramowitz’s cultural profile on them, limited though it was, indicated that the Androssi had a preference for the practical that bordered on the utilitarian. That, their overriding interest in technology, and their rectangular ship construction had led some to make comparisons to the Borg, but the Androssi had a definite hierarchical structure and they were most definitely individuals.

  “Hailing frequencies.”

  McAllan manipulated his console. “Open, sir.” Gold sat up straight in his command chair. He had a tendency to slouch, but he always made sure to sit up whenever he was sending a visual communication. “This is Captain Gold of the Federation Starship U.S.S. da Vinci. Identify yourselves.”

  “They’re responding, sir, but audio only.”

  “Just like last time,” Gold said with a nod. The Androssi never communicated visually. Abramowitz’s theory was that they didn’t want anyone to see any aspect of their technology, even if it was just in the background. “On speaker.”

  “This is Overseer Biron. You are once again interfering in a legitimate Androssi operation, Captain Gold. You will utilize your transporter to beam your away team off the station and warp out of the area immediately, or we will be forced to take hostile action.”

  “So, it is you, Biron. Don’t insult my intelligence. You know damn well that I can’t ‘remove’ the away team because you’re jamming their combadges. In any case, this is unclaimed space. You have no jurisdiction over our actions, and no justification for taking any kind of action against us.”

  “Perhaps not, Captain Gold, but you have no jurisdiction over ours, either.”

  Smiling, Gold said, “Actually, we’ve been deputized by the planetary government on Maeglin. We have standing orders to place you under arrest and remand you to the Maeglin Law Enforcement Bureau.” That was a complete fabrication, of course, but Biron didn’t know that. “We therefore request that you lower shields and prepare to be boarded.”

  “Now it is you who insult my intelligence, Captain. Do you really expect me to accede to that request?”

  Gold gave a half-smile. “Not really, no. But I thought it was worth a shot. Now the question is—”

  “They’re firing,” McAllan interrupted.

  “So much for cockeyed optimism,” Gold muttered. “Red alert. Wong, evasive.”

  “Yes, sir,” the conn officer said.

  McAllan said, “It’s a torpedo. If it’s anything like the last time, our shields should hold.”

  Ina shook her head. “It’s not a perfect match for that one, Mac,” she said.

  “Lock phasers and fire,” Gold said.

  “Firing.” As McAllan spoke, Gold saw the image on the viewscreen of the amber beams from the da Vinci’s phaser banks strike the Androssi vessel. “Torpedo impact in ten seconds. Their shields are down to eighty percent. Torpedo impact in three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  The torpedo struck with what felt to Gold’s experienced self as a light blow. “Damage?”

  “No damage at all,” McAllan said, sounding rather surprised. “May
be they—Oh, hell. Captain, shields are completely gone.”

  Gold was grateful that he had such an impressive lexicon of curses.

  “They’re firing again,” Ina reported. “Phasers this time.”

  Which will cut us to pieces without shields, Gold thought grimly. “Wong, get us the hell outta here, full impulse, pattern gamma.”

  “Pattern gamma, aye.”

  Under Songmin Wong’s expert guidance, the da Vinci blasted away from Empok Nor at its fastest sublight speed.

  Away from Empok Nor and, to Gold’s annoyance, away from Duffy and his team.

  But without shields, they were sitting ducks.

  “Sir, whatever that torpedo did completely disrupted the shields,” McAllan said. “I can’t get them to reconstitute.”

  Wong said, “Androssi ship is not pursuing.”

  Gold leaned forward. “What?”

  “They’re taking up a position relative to one of Empok Nor’s upper pylons.”

  The captain pounded his fist on the console. He had run out of Yiddish curses, and started muttering a few in Klingon.

  “Bring us back, Wong. We can’t leave the away team exposed. McAllan, as soon as we’re in range, full spread of phasers.”

  The da Vinci arced back toward the box-shaped ship.

  “Sir, they’ve lowered their shields,” Ina said.

  “In weapons range,” McAllan said at almost the same time.

  “Fire,” Gold almost shouted. The only reason the Androssi could have had to lower shields was to transport someone to the station.

  Phaser fire lanced out from the da Vinci once again, this time striking right on the Androssi’s unprotected hull.

  “They’ve raised shields,” McAllan said.

  “Barnak to bridge. Captain, I can’t get the shields back up, and whatever’s jamming communications has increased in intensity.”

  Ina said, “They’re firing phasers.”

  “Evasive, Wong,” Gold said. “Pattern epsilon.” McAllan added, “They’ve also raised shields again, still at eighty percent.”

  Wong’s maneuvers were partly successful—there was an impact, but it was less than Gold had feared, though more than he’d hoped. “Damage report.”

  “Hull breach on Deck 6,” Ina said. Gold noticed that the lieutenant put one hand to her left ear. Bajoran beliefs said that the pagh, or life force, resided in the left ear. “Force fields holding. Power systems rerouting.” She turned around to look at Gold with a dismayed expression. “Sir, they were able to get a transporter beam off before we fired. Sensors are picking up five Androssi life forms on the station.”

  At this rate, I’m going to run out of curses, Gold thought.

  CHAPTER

  8

  Duffy heard Ina Mar say, “Sir, long-range scans are picking up a vessel on direct approach to Emp—” before the signal started to degrade.

  He tapped his combadge. “Duffy to da Vinci —you’re breaking up.”

  “—figuration and po—the Androssi. Sens—ered—Maegli—”

  “ Da Vinci, come in!” Duffy shouted.

  Corsi tapped her combadge. “Corsi to da Vinci, come in.”

  Duffy looked over at Pattie, but it was Nog who spoke. “There’s some kind of jamming field—the combadges are useless.”

  “Which means we can’t be transported even with these pattern enhancers,” Pattie added with the tinkly noise that indicated that she was annoyed.

  Corsi hefted her phaser rifle. “Ina identified them as Androssi. I think they came back to see who’s been sleeping in their beds.”

  Duffy snorted. “Fairy tale references, Commander? That’s new.” He did notice that Stevens was particularly taken aback by the reference.

  “Commander Duffy, this is serious. We need to—”

  “Keep doing what we’re doing—what the captain ordered us to do,” he added quickly, hoping that it would cut off Corsi’s inevitable objection. “Soloman, continue the analysis. I want to know everything the Androssi have done.”

  “It would be best if we . . . if I did that work in the central computer core, Commander.”

  Duffy winced at Soloman’s slip. He’d done so well adjusting generally to living up to his new designation that the Bynar’s occasional lapse into thinking himself as part of a two-person team was fairly jarring.

  “We shouldn’t split up,” Corsi said sharply.

  “Actually, we’ll have to,” Nog said. “If we’re going to extract the core, I’ll need to get deeper into the system in order to see what, exactly, the Androssi have done to the core.”

  “I strongly recommend against it, Commander,” Corsi said to Duffy. “The Androssi might be boarding the station at any minute. We have to be ready for anything, and splitting us up will make us considerably more vulnerable.”

  Before Duffy could make a decision, he saw a bizarre transporter effect in the midst of the platform. It was one he’d seen before, on Maeglin—it was faster and quieter than Starfleet’s transporters.

  Five Androssi appeared in the midst of the catwalk. Like all Androssi, they had brown- or sepiatoned skin, with long hair of either blond, gold, or brown, and wearing beige jumpsuits; the men also all had thick beards. They were probably the most nondescript aliens Kieran Duffy had ever seen in his career. Two of them wore three nose rings, two wore none, and one wore four. Duffy recognized the last of those, who stood in the center: Sub-Overseer Howwi, Biron’s second-in-command.

  Corsi and her people moved as one—each of them stood between the Androssi and a member of the S.C.E. team, with Friesner standing beside Nog. Corsi herself stood by Stevens, which surprised Duffy—he had expected the chief to go to the second officer’s side. Not that he cared one way or the other, but it was the kind of protocol thing that Corsi usually followed pretty religiously.

  Duffy shot Corsi a look, and she gave a quick nod back—they wouldn’t fire unless Duffy himself gave the order. They did, however, all point their weapons.

  Okay, he thought, let’s see if we can get through this without trying to kill each other. Duffy did not like the idea of a firefight breaking out on this ever-more-crowded catwalk, but it was looking inevitable.

  “Lieutenant Commander Duffy,” Howwi said upon sighting him. “This is the second time you’ve interfered in a legitimate Androssi operation.” Duffy noticed that the Androssi appeared to be unarmed, but with their dimensional-shifting technology, those appearances were quite deceiving.

  “That’s your interpretation, Howwi,” he said, trying to maintain an amiable tone. “We were the ones who were asked by the Maeglin authorities, and we have as much claim to Empok Nor as you do.”

  “Perhaps. But we have a mission to fulfill.”

  Duffy smiled grimly. “So do we. In fact, thousands of lives are counting on us to get this fusion core to one of our space stations.”

  “In fact,” Nog said, to Duffy’s surprise, “that’s all we need. Can’t we negotiate this? Most of your systems are tied into other parts of the station. Surely you can supply your own power source? We can extract the fusion core, and you’re welcome to the rest of it!”

  Duffy glowered at the little Ferengi. Dammit, kid, we don’t work like that! But he didn’t say that out loud—the last thing he could afford to do was show weakness of command in front of Howwi. Of course, Nog had never dealt with the Androssi, so he perhaps didn’t know what, precisely, they were dealing with. But even a Ferengi should know that there was no possible way that a weapons platform of this magnitude could be used for any good purpose.

  Howwi shrugged. “Why do these lives you wish to save concern us?”

  Duffy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “We are performing a mission for the Elite. You wish us to hamper that mission in order to preserve the lives of irrelevant aliens. I’m afraid that this negotiation would serve no purpose. We have nothing to gain by allowing you to take the fusion core.” He turned to his people. “Kill them.”

  Da
mmit, dammit, dammit, Duffy thought as he ducked to his knees behind Drew.

  One of the Androssi wearing no nose rings pressed a button on her wrist and a force field that looked just like the flowing brown mesh that had surrounded the fusion core—and was, indeed, the signature of much Androssi tech—formed around the quintet of Androssi. Duffy noted that, just like that one, it did not appear to come from any particular source—one second it wasn’t there, the next it was.

  Like the security device, this thing shot out electrical bursts. As it did so, Corsi said, “Fire!”

  All five security guards fired—at, Duffy noticed, Level 4, and on a low frequency. Eddy’s was still in pulse-phaser mode; the other four were standard beams.

  The mesh dispersed instantaneously, and Duffy found himself facing five very surprised-looking Androssi.

  Duffy grinned. “You ain’t the only ones with cute tricks, Howwi.”

  “On stun,” Corsi said, “and fire!”

  All five security guards fired, this time on the standard stun setting, and the five Androssi collapsed.

  “You know,” Duffy said, still grinning, “it’s really nice for it to be easy every once in a while.”

  “We’re not out of this yet,” Corsi said.

  Nodding, Duffy said, “I know.” He looked at his people who, in turn, were all looking at him, waiting for orders. Part of him once again thought, Sonnie, come home. This should’ve been her job. But, to his own surprise, that was only part of him. The rest of him felt relatively calm and confident. The cold sweat he broke out in when he was in command of the da Vinci and the old Constitution-class Defiant fell into interphase while the Tholians opened fire was nowhere to be seen. Kieran Duffy chose to view this as a good sign.

  He took a deep breath through his nose and then breathed out through his mouth. “Okay, we need to figure out how to get the Androssi tech separated from the Cardassian tech, and we need to figure out how to extract the fusion core.”

  Nog spoke up. “Sir, I’ve already put together a plan for extracting the core—it’s one that’s already been approved by Colonel Kira and Commander Vaughn.”