Bloodletter (star trek)

by K. W. Jeter

  None of the others spoke. The low, somber tone of his voice indicated the gravity of the situation he was about to present to them.

  “You will recall that some ten shifts ago, we were hosts once more to our old friends the Cardassians.” He spread his hands apart. “Whether we like it or not, that’s the nature of our job here. DS Nine’s function as a transit point, the doorway to the Gamma Quadrant, is just beginning; we’re going to be seeing a lot more traffic coming and going at our docking pylons. We need to prepare for that—”

  “Commander.” In one of the center chairs, Major Kira stirred restlessly. “You’re not telling us anything we don’t know already. If this is just some sort of pep talk, there are a lot of other, more important things back at Ops I should be taking care of.”

  Sisko turned his unsmiling gaze straight toward her. “I can assure you that I’m not wasting your time. As you will see.” He leaned back in his own chair. “The point I’m trying to make to you all is that, at the present time, under the orders we have received from the Starfleet high command, we are not at liberty to pick and choose among those seeking to travel through the wormhole. The Federation wishes to achieve a greater rapprochement with the Cardassian empire; allowing them access to the wormhole, and to the Gamma Quadrant beyond it, is seen as the primary means of accomplishing that. Of course, this is the age-old conflict between diplomatic intentions at headquarters and security concerns on the line. There are undoubtedly some things we would do differently here if we had a completely free hand.”

  Chief Engineer O’Brien smiled wryly. “Like telling the Cardassians to take the long way around if they want to get to the Gamma Quadrant?”

  “More or less. Frankly, I share the opinion of some of you, that if the Cardassians were never to set foot aboard this station again, it would be too soon. But that’s not the case—at least for now.”

  Kira’s expression had become progressively more irritated. “Commander . . . please. As you’ve said before, there’s a lot we still have to get ready here. So, if you could just . . . ” She made a rolling, speed-it-up gesture.

  Instilling patience in his second-in-command was going to be a long process, he knew; losing his own patience with her wouldn’t help. “I bring these points up for a reason, Major. I want it understood that I consider the present situation—the reason for our meeting now—to have been unavoidable. There should be no guilt feelings or pointing of fingers at other officers. Do I make myself clear?”

  She had provoked him into speaking more forcefully than when he had begun; he could see in her eyes that she had started wondering just what the problem could be. Behind Kira’s back, Odo and O’Brien exchanged glances; they had the advantage of having been in on it from the early stages.

  “Take a look at this.” From the desk drawer, Sisko extracted his data padd. “Our security chief managed to find a way aboard the Cardassian vessel before it left the station. Here’s his report on what he found.” Sisko watched as Kira scanned through the display, O’Brien and Dr. Bashir looking over her shoulders. “As you’ll recall, the vessel in question was represented to us as being for the purposes of scientific research—the Cardassians supposedly were initiating a sectorwide survey of the Gamma Quadrant, with an orientation toward joint commercial development with the Federation. That’s the main reason why their application for access to the wormhole was granted so quickly. When their vessel arrived here at the station, we certainly had no reason to doubt their stated intentions—”

  “True enough,” said O’Brien, nodding. “We’ve seen the same sort of craft before—basically nothing more than converted long-haul freight carriers—in a lot of the other systems that the Cardassians have trading protocols with. They strip out all the light armament and substitute a bunch of different sensor arrays. If they’re going into a sector where hostilities could be expected, they’ll convoy with a cruiser or two and some advance scouts.” A shrug. “And that’s certainly what this one looked like from the outside.”

  “We certainly had little way of knowing otherwise. The agreement between the Federation and the Cardassians stipulated that no search of the vessel would be permitted while it was being worked on here. Technically, we’re already in violation of that agreement—”

  “What does that matter?” Kira struck the back of her hand across the data padd with mounting anger. “ ‘Research vessel’—they were lying to us from the beginning! It’s stuffed with weaponry—”

  “I’ve read Odo’s report,” said Sisko dryly. “I’m aware of what he found inside the vessel.”

  Odo leaned toward her. “If you’ll look at the last few screens, you’ll see the details of the shielding with which they had surrounded the arms. Even if we had done a scan of the vessel, we probably wouldn’t have been able to detect what they had aboard.”

  “And now, they’re on the other side of the wormhole.” Kira shook her head in disgust. “Gul Tahgla and the rest are probably laughing themselves sick, over how they sneaked this right past us. Just before they head off to attack some defenseless system in the Gamma Quadrant—”

  “There’s very little chance of that, actually.” Odo pointed to the data padd. “My analysis of the vessel’s armament—and I believe the commander concurs with me on this—is that it is essentially defensive in nature. The vessel lacks the speed and maneuverability with which to mount an offensive campaign; whereas its perimeter shields are several times more powerful than those of a regulation Cardassian cruiser.” He was enjoying the display of his expertise. “The other significant finding I made is the degree to which the vessel has been modified for long-term stasis under deep space conditions. The crew quarters, the life-support systems, food and atmosphere replication—everything has been set up so that the vessel can operate indefinitely without the need for planetfall.”

  Kira scowled in puzzlement. “What’s the point of that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” O’Brien had looked up from the report. “Wherever they’re going, they’re planning on a long stay. And they’re prepared to fight off anybody who tries to move them.”

  Bashir had stayed silent through the discussion, but now spoke up. “Do we have any idea of where that’s going to be?”

  “That is the problem, people.” Sisko looked across their faces. “Now that the Cardassian vessel is on the other side of the wormhole, we’ve been able to trace its position with our remote monitoring devices—plus, unknown to them, and thanks to the efforts of our chief engineer and security officer, they’re carrying aboard a couple of miniaturized activity trackers. We not only know where they are, but also have a pretty good idea of what they’re up to. At this moment, the engines of Gul Tahgla’s vessel have been placed in standby mode; it’s no longer in motion—after having been traveling continuously since it exited into the Gamma Quadrant. It now has apparently rendezvoused with a group of other Cardassian vessels that had previously gone through the wormhole. Our sensors indicate that a large volume of equipment and supplies is being transferred to Gul Tahgla’s vessel, as well as additional crew members; there’s some pretty extensive structural work being done, too. They obviously wanted to do all their retrofitting at what they thought would be a distance sufficient to keep their activities from being detected by us. The probability is high that the vessel is in the process of being converted to operational efficiency as a self-sufficient outpost base. Once the Cardassians are done, though—and that shouldn’t be too much longer—by our best estimates of the vessel’s engine capacities, it would take them at least ten shifts to return to the vicinity of the wormhole.”

  “Wait a minute.” Kira set the data padd down on the corner of the desk, and reached across to turn the computer screen toward her. She called up a navigation chart. “There’s nothing out there—that’s totally empty space.”

  “Precisely. So we have to assume that the intentions of Gul Tahgla and his crew, once they’ve completed the modifications to the vessel, are to return to the zone surro
unding the wormhole’s exit point. That’s the only thing of value in which the Cardassian empire could be interested.”

  “But sovereignty over the wormhole has already been established—it belongs to Bajor—”

  “Correction, Major. Sovereignty over this end of the wormhole has been established. As this is the first stable wormhole to have been discovered, there are points of interstellar law regarding it that have yet to be determined—and the Cardassians appear to be placing themselves in a compelling legal position. There’s an old Earth maxim that possession is nine points of the law—that’s undoubtedly what the Cardassians will argue, as well. DS Nine was moved to its current orbital position to validate Bajor’s claim on the wormhole and to fend off any attempt by the Cardassians to seize control of it. But the wormhole’s exit point in the Gamma Quadrant is light-years away from any inhabited system. There’s no intelligent species on the other side for whom a similar claim of sovereignty could be made.” Sisko swiveled his chair, turning back toward the others. “Now, the Cardassians have seized this opportunity, to gain back at least some of what they inadvertently let go when they abandoned Bajor and this station.”

  “It is,” said Odo, “the sort of thing they might’ve been expected to do. As a species—and I state this from experience—they are addicted to legal maneuvers, exploitation of loopholes, and the like. For all their military swaggering, they are at their heart a race of lawyers.” He shrugged. “That may account for their persistent . . . public relations problems.”

  Bashir nodded thoughtfully, as though having been presented with a particularly interesting diagnosis. “It’s rather like a rope with two ends, isn’t it? We’ve got hold of one end, and now the Cardassians are reaching for the other. If they get it . . . then, who really owns the rope?” He gazed up at the ceiling. “Or like one of those ancient, land-based transportation systems—what were they called?—a toll highway. We can control who goes into the wormhole, and under what conditions, but if the Cardassians’ claim to the sector around the wormhole’s other end were upheld, they’d control who’d be able to exit from the hole and travel on into the Gamma Quadrant.” He stroked his chin. “Very clever . . . ”

  “Will you just shut up?” Kira glared fiercely at the doctor. “This isn’t a problem in one of your medical textbooks, that you’ll get an A for solving. The whole future of my people is jeopardized by this—”

  “Exactly, Major. As you see, I have not been wasting your time.” Sisko could almost read the thoughts tumbling one after another behind her eyes. “Without effective control over the wormhole, Bajor would become once again a backwater of the universe, a depleted planet with nothing of value to sell. Essentially, it would be another charity case for the Federation. Membership in the Federation for Bajor would become a matter of low priority; the DS Nine station itself would be cut back to minimal functioning or even deactivated. It’s simple economics, actually.”

  “If that’s how the Federation would feel about Bajor—if that’s how you feel, Commander—then we’d find a way of getting by without you.” Kira’s gaze narrowed. “We survived the Cardassians’ rape of our planet; we could survive the Federation’s neglect. And perhaps it would be better that way.”

  “Perhaps.” He knew he had evoked the fanatical streak in her beliefs, the sympathy with the Bajoran extremists that lay buried just beneath the surface. It was so tightly interwoven with the anger that constantly simmered inside her, that to produce one was to face the other. “But perhaps it might not be necessary. I suggest that instead of giving way to these emotional displays, we might more profitably turn our attention to finding a way of circumventing the Cardassians’ plans.”

  “What would you suggest?” Her glare didn’t soften. “If we had some sort of armed vessel of our own, maybe we could go out through the wormhole and knock them out of commission—”

  “That would be an act of war, Major. An unprovoked act. The fact that we perceive the Cardassians’ actions as being contrary to our interests doesn’t give us the right to do that. No, I suggest that we beat them at their own game. Even if they knew that we were aware of their intentions, they’re still limited as to how quickly they can return to the sector around the wormhole’s exit. That provides us with our window of opportunity. If we can get a substation in position there, the Federation can legitimately press a claim for sovereignty over the sector—before the Cardassians can do anything about it. That’s why I asked our chief engineer to sit in on this meeting.” Sisko swiveled toward O’Brien. “Well? What do you think—is there anything we can put together, and fast, that we can get out through the wormhole to establish a presence with?”

  The engineer shrugged. “We’ve got small craft, runabouts and the like, that we could send—”

  “That won’t do. The Cardassians would be able to dislodge our claim, based on precedents in interstellar case law. A ship or smaller craft doesn’t indicate a serious intention to set up a permanent base.” Sisko shook his head. “No, we need something that we can represent, if even just on a temporary basis, as an actual substation. Later, if need be, we can get something larger out there.”

  “I don’t know . . . ” O’Brien clenched his hand into a fist. “If we had more time . . . if we had the manpower and the materials . . . we could build you whatever you wanted. But if you’re talking about an enclosed, self-sustaining unit with living quarters, supply replicators, everything a substation would need . . . ” The fist squeezed harder. “To put together something like that from scratch . . . there’s just no way.” His gaze shifted away, as though catching sight of something beyond the commander’s office. “Unless . . . unless we used something we already had on hand. . . .”

  “What would that be?”

  “The quarantine module.” Excitement cleared the engineer’s previous expression. “It’s perfect! It’s already designed to operate outside the station. Longterm living quarters, all the facilities—it’s certainly big enough to qualify as a permanent base—”

  “Wait a minute.” A look of alarm moved across Bashir’s face. “I’ve been waiting for that module to come on line for months! It’s already got a designated function.”

  “Which will be of little use to anyone, Doctor, if the Cardassians gain control of the other end of the wormhole. If that happens, DS Nine won’t be the major transit point we’ve been anticipating; the Cardassians will be just as happy to shut down all movement through it, if they can’t have exclusive access.” Sisko held up his palm against any further protest. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but the circumstances force me to overrule you on this matter.” He turned back to O’Brien. “How soon can you get the quarantine module ready?”

  “It’s already close to being finished. Now, we’ll have to detach it from the extension gantry, sever the umbilical connections, move the atmospheric and other life-support systems out of the cargo bay and into the module . . . let’s see . . . ” O’Brien nodded slowly. “We’ll have to rig towing mounts on both it and one of the larger utility craft, get some buffers in place . . . ” He shrugged. “Five or six shifts, and we’ll have it ready to go.”

  “Make it four. Gul Tahgla isn’t going to wait around for us. Major Kira—” He turned back to her. “You’re so concerned about protecting Bajor’s economic interests in the wormhole—fine. This mission is yours. I can’t spare you more than anyone else aboard the station, but the presence of a Bajoran native on our impromptu substation will probably help legitimize our claim to sovereignty over this additional sector. Major—”

  She looked up from the computer panel. He could see that she had called up some additional data on it, but she blanked the screen before he could tell what it had been. For a moment, her level gaze burned into his, then she nodded once. “I’ll have full operational command?”

  “You’ll have to—it’ll be strictly a one-person operation. We’re already critically understaffed here. One of our freight shuttles will be rigged so you can use it as a pusher vehicle. Yo
u’ll take the retrofitted module out through the wormhole, transfer to it once it’s in position, and represent yourself to all approaching vessels—namely, the Cardassians—as having established authority over the sector. It shouldn’t be too long before we can rotate a skeleton crew out there to relieve you.”

  “Very well.”

  “Let’s get to work, people.” Sisko pushed back his chair to signal that the meeting was over.

  Bashir remained seated after the other officers had left.

  “Is there something on your mind, Doctor?”

  “You could say that.” The chief medical officer spoke slowly, like someone taking a first cautious step into unknown territory. “I think you’ve overlooked a critical factor in your plans, Commander.”

  “Oh?”

  “You don’t have the authority to order that the quarantine module be used for anything other than medical purposes.”

  Sisko waited a moment before replying. “You seem to forget, Doctor, that I’m the commander of this station.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” Bashir’s voice rose in pitch and volume. “But the quarantine module, like all medical equipment aboard DS Nine, is completely under my authority. That’s by Starfleet regulation, Commander. Those rules were put into effect precisely to keep officers from diverting medical facilities and supplies from their intended use. The only person who can make decisions in that regard is the chief medical officer. I can order O’Brien to not even lay a finger on that module.”

  “I see.” Sisko leaned back, studying the younger man before him. “Doctor Bashir—I would advise you not to press your authority on this. I’m faced with a crisis that threatens the continued operation of this station. If need be, I’ll have you thrown in the brig. You won’t be discharging much of your responsibilities as chief medical officer there.”

  Beads of sweat had risen on Bashir’s forehead, and his hands trembled. “You could certainly do that, Commander. But then you’re going to have to consider how it’s going to look to the provisional government on Bajor, when word reaches them that you’ve stripped their DS Nine station of its first line of defense against epidemic diseases. And not just the station. Since all interstellar traffic to Bajor passes through here, without the quarantine module in place, the likelihood of spreading contagion on the planet’s surface is multiplied well beyond tolerable limits. That’s a lot to ask of them, just to help repair the damage caused by your decision to let the Cardassian vessel go through the wormhole.”