by Неизвестный
Keiko had put on sandals that morning, ones with heavy rubber soles. Yet she felt a sudden surge of heat beneath her feet, intense enough and sudden enough that she jumped backward, dropping her padd in surprise. The padd crashed with a bang on the class- room floor, only centimeters away from where the floor began to glow red like a burning ember. Keiko watched in horror as the padd sizzled and melted away. The smell of burning plastic and crystals stung her nostrils. Smoky white fumes rose from the floor.
Some sort of plasma leak, she guessed. A momen- tary flare of anger almost burned away her fear. She had always hated Deep Space Nine. This place is a death trap, she thought; I knew this was going to happen someday. Miles, her brain screamed. Where are you? You promised me we'd be safe.
The padd crumbled into smoking ashes. The floor dissolved before her eyes, and a writhing, shapeless mass of rocklike tissue lurched upward into the room.
It had no head, no limbs, no features that Keiko could identify, but the front half of the thing lifted up off the floor, stringy fibers dangling from its exposed under- side, and it swayed back and forth, as if questing for something.
Gann squealed like a Terran hog. Yelsi shrieked in fright, her cries quickly joined by several other kids, male and female and none of the above. The children leaped from the seats, sometimes overturning their desks in the process, and ran for the exit, pushing and shoving and crawling over each other in their wild flight from the monster that had burst into their presence. A froglike Wollowan boy, propelled by his powerful hind legs, bounded over the heads of his classmates, nearly colliding with the ceiling. "Wait!
Don't panic. Remember our drills," Keiko shouted after them, but it was a futile effort. Her students could not, or would not, hear her over their shouts and storeping feet. A harsh metallic keening came from the invader, adding to the cacophony.
So much for interspecies tolerance, Keiko thought bitterly. She couldn't blame them, though. She was terrified, too. She looked frantically for Molly. To her surprise, her child was still sitting at her desk, eyeing the creature with undisguised fascination. Molly seemed to regard the lumpy monstrosity as no more terrifying than a caged slime-devil at the zoo. Well, Keiko thought with dark humor, at least I know someone was listening to my high-minded lecture.
The creature wriggled hesitantly toward the almost- abandoned rows of desks, toward Molly. Every mus- cle in Keiko's body wanted to dash forward, grab her baby, and run, but the alien, its craggy hide pulsating to some internal rhythm, moved directly between her and Molly. So far, it wasn't making any obviously threatening movements; in fact, as nearly as she could tell with such an inhuman entity, it seemed disori- ented, possibly confused by its surroundings. Keiko forced herself to stay still. She didn't want to provoke the thing by making any sudden moves.
Overcoming her initial shock, and perhaps inspired by Molly's fearless example, Keiko tried to analyze the situation rationally. This must be one of the Hortas that Miles told me about, she realized. They were supposed to be peaceful, she knew, but this one appeared out of control. "Keep calm," she whispered.
Odo should be here in a few minutes. And Miles too, she hoped.
The Horta slid closer to Molly's desk. Keiko's heart seemed to climb up her windpipe. "Don't move, honey," she said hoarsely, praying her voice would not upset the Horta. "It won't hurt you, I promise." Please let me be telling her the truth, she thought. They had survived so much, endured so many dangers both here and on the Enterprise. She couldn't bear it if she lost her daughter now.
Unlike her mother, Molly acted totally unafraid. As Keiko gasped and clutched her throat, the toddler hopped off her chair, her small computer clutched in her tiny little hands, and trotted to meet the Horta.
It's sentient, Keiko thought over and over like a mantra. It's not going to eat her. But the still-smoking hole in the floor, and the charred remains of the padd, did nothing to allay her fears.
Molly stopped only a few steps away from the Horta. Its corrosive hide had left a trail of scorched rhodinium flooring. The Horta also paused, apparent- ly contemplating the small, fragile humanoid in its path. Keiko found herself unable to breathe.
"H is for Horta," Molly said sagely. Keiko recog- nized the line from one of Molly's favorite story chips.
She held out her computer and dropped the light- weight metal construct onto the floor in front of the Horta. It rattled lightly against the metal tiles. "H is for Hungry." A sound that might have been a mew escaped the Horta, and it instantly fell upon the computer, melt- ing it into a mineral gruel that its tendrils eagerly sucked up.
Understanding, and an overwhelming sense of re- lief, flooded over Keiko. Of course! Miles had said that the only Hortas left on the station hadn't hatched yet. This must be a baby. And how do you handle an upset newborn? You feed it.
Molly's computer had already been devoured en- tirely, and the young Horta was flailing its "head" and making that keening sound again. Keiko hurried to join Molly, and together they proceeded to offer the voracious creature computer after computer. Keiko winced inwardly as she watched her precious teaching supplies disappear into the nonexistent maw of the Horta. First the bombing, now this. Starfleet's budget office was not going to like this.
Still, if it kept the Horta happy, and Molly safe, Keiko was willing to feed it the entire classroom, desks, chairs, and all. She hoped Odo got here while there was still a shred of a school left.
"B is for Breakfast," Molly supplied happily. Keiko nodded and handed her another computer.
Odo thought he was ready for anything. Then everything happened at once.
One minute, he was sitting in his office, a forbidding expression on his waxlike face, staring at the screen on his desk as it gave him a quick, condensed education on the subject of Hortas. Odo grimaced when he read about the murders committed by the first Mother Horta over eight decades ago, then conceded that there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. Ever since, he discovered, the Hortas had proven a remarkably law-abiding people.
Aside from the Starfleet officers who had accompa- nied Kira on her mission, Odo had deployed his security forco all over the habitat ring. No one was off-duty. Many were working extra shifts. Odo alone manned the security office at present; fortunately, only a few drunks and pickpockets occupied the adjoining cells, and the drunks were still sleeping off the effects of Quark's noxious potions.
A color illustration of an adult Horta appeared on the screen. He rotated the image, observing it from several angles and directions. He rather admired the Hortas' lack of bilateral symmetry; it struck him as a much more comfortable shape than the humanoid form he'd been forced to assume for most of his life.
He looked longingly at the shining steel bucket sitting unobtrusively in one corner of his office. He had remained solid for well over twelve hours now, and it would be relaxing to let go for a few minutes, but, no, not with a potential emergency in the offing. He took comfort, however, in knowing that DS9 couldn't be more prepared in the event the raiders returned.
Then, preceded by hoots and hollers from the Promenade, a naked human male came running into the office. Odo recognized him as one of Sisko's men, assigned to the wormhole research team. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Odo snarled, stand- ing up behind his desk. His right arm stretched across the room and snatched up a blanket from the nearest empty cell. "Here, put this on. You look ridiculous." Wonderful, he thought sarcastically. On top of everything else, a case of indecent exposure. Humans!
Sometimes he thought they deserved whatever Quark pulled on them. Justice was still justice, though, regardless of the victim. And Quark was Quark.
The ensign looked pathetically grateful for the covering. "There's a monster," he stammered. "I mean, an alien intruder aboard, sir. Nonhumanoid and... hot! It burned through the wall at Quark's!" Odo's eyes glanced back at the illustration on his screen. A Horta? Sisko had said that none of the Hortas had hatched yet. Still, this couldn't be a coincidence; something w
as not right. His muscles molded themselves into a state of maximum alert- ness. He fine-tuned his reflexes.
"When? Where?" he demanded. "Give me the details." His hand hovered over his comm badge, ready to open a line to Sisko in Ops.
The ensign appeared inexplicably reluctant to elab- orate. "I was off-duty, you see. And, well, there was this woman on Vulcan.... " Odo grabbed hold of the young man's shoulders, sorely tempted to shake a quick and concise answer out of this chattering human. Before the youth could say another word, however, Odo heard screams from the Promenade. Screams of terror.
"Stay right here," he ordered the ensign. "Don't move an inch." Leaving the man standing there, clutching haplessly onto the blanket wrapped around his absurd human body, Odo rushed into the wide corridor outside his office--and found himself faced with a scene of utter pandemonium.
Everything indeed seemed to be happening at once.
A pack of hysterical children ran shrieking down the Promenade. The overhead lights flickered off and on.
Sparks erupted from panels on the floor and walls.
Odo wished he had a sense of smell, so he could detect smoke if a fire broke out. Merchants and souvenir seekers poured out of shops and doorways, unsure what was going on, but adding to the tumult and chaos. Extending his torso to see above the crowd, Odo scanned the Promenade. At first, he couldn't spot the root of the panic, only confused and frightened people. Then, as if seeing one opened your eyes to the rest, he saw Hortas everywhere he looked.
They dropped from the ceiling, smashing through awnings and flashing outdoor signs, only to land apparently unharmed. The spray from a falling Horta, the acid trailing behind it like the tail of a comet, set a cloth banner ablaze. They emerged from the walls, leaving gaping cavities in the skeleton of DS9. They burst from the floor, sending bystanders sprawling and crashing into each other. Odo heard yells and shouted obscenities and even the unmistakable sound of angry fists ramming into flesh and bone. An avian trader flapped her wings helplessly, her talons stuck in the gooey protoplasm of a hysterical Gelloid. His security officers tried to reach the Hortas, but found themselves hampered by a mob of allegedly rational beings fighting to get away from the madness that had exploded in their midst.
"Get these people out of here!" he ordered his team, shouting to be heard above the roar. "Clear the Promenade!" Damn, he cursed. Where was he sup- posed to put all these people? Was there any place on DS9 the Hortas couldn't reach?
The maze was made of gold-pressed latinum. Sheets and sheets of the precious material, stacked up like bricks to form gleaming walls that stretched at least a meter above Jake's head. Latinum as far as the eye could see, he marveled; this had to be one of Quark's personal simulations.
"Computer, halt program," Jake said, but the trans- formed holosuite did not respond. No doubt Nog knew how to turn off the labyrinth, but finding Nog was the problem. Three possible pathways lay before Jake, and he could not see more than a couple of meters down any of them. "C'mon, Nog!" he shouted.
"You can't hide from me forever!" "Ferengi invented hiding!" Nog's voice called out from somewhere in the depths of the maze. Guessing at his friend's location, Jake ran down the right-side corridor, between two looming latinum partitions.
The overhead lights, reflected off the gold plating, made Jake's eyes water, forcing him to remember that Ferengi eyes were much less sensitive than a human's.
He zigzagged through the maze, turning left, then right, then left again. Rounding another corner, he found himself confronting a dead end. sucI~R!
screamed the graffiti phaser-burned into the wall that blocked him. Cursing under his breath, Jake was in no mood to appreciate Quark's attention to detail.
God only knows what that Horta's up to, he thought, while I'm wasting my time in this stupid maze. He tried to retrace his steps back to the maze's entrance, but soon realized he was hopelessly lost. All this latinum looked the same to him.
"Nog!" Jake yelled angrily. "I'm already going to kill you. But, if you don't show your greedy face in the next five minutes, I'm going to kill you even worse.
starting with your ears!" An involuntary gasp of horror, sounding surprising- ly nearby, came from a turnoff just ahead of Jake. He sprinted toward the noise and caught a glimpse of a stunted figure darting around another curve in the maze. Forget it, Jake thought; you're not getting away from me this time. He chased Nog through a twisting, S-shaped path, undistracted by the sight of enough gold-pressed latinum to buy DS9 several times over-- if only it were real.
Nog ran as if pursued by the entire Romulan Empire. Not for the first time, however, long human legs triumphed over the Ferengi's natural talent for fast getaways. Jake grabbed on to the neck of Nog's jacket and yanked him back hard. Pulled off his feet, Nog flew backward into Jake. Both boys crashed onto the floor of the maze, smacking their flailing knees and elbows into the hard latinum wall.
Ouch, Jake thought, smarting from the pain. Why couldn't Ferengi build mazes out of shrubs or foam like everybody else? Holding tightly on to Nog, he placed the Ferengi in a firm headlock and refused to let go. "I thought you were looking for a merchant to sell the Horta to," he challenged.
"I lied, of course. What did you think?" Caught off-guard by the utter candor of his friend's dishonesty, Jake wasn't sure how to respond. His grip on Nog loosened a little. "Well, what are we going to do about the Horta then?" he asked eventually.
Nog did not reply. He seemed mesmerized by the stacks of latinurn directly across from them. "Hey, snap out it!" Jake said. He stood up slowly, hauling Nog onto his feet as well. "Let's go. We have to find that Horta." "Uh, Jake," Nog said nervously, still staring at the wall of the maze. "I don't think that's going to be a problem." "What?" Jake followed the path of Nog's gaze and Saw that the white light shining off the holographic latinum seemed even brighter than before. This was more than a reflection, he realized; the wall was actually glowing. Before his eyes, the wall flashed white, then red, until the light faded to reveal a lumpy, pulsating mass of steaming rock lurching toward them.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Nog shrieked, tugging on Jake's arms with desperate fingers. Shocked by the sudden appearance of the Horta, Jake released Nog from the headlock. His arms dropped limply to his sides. Nog ran around behind Jake, placing his human friend between himself and the Horta.
"How did it find us?" Jake asked aloud. And now what was he supposed to do?
The Horta inched closer. Jake guessed it was con- fused by the holographic walls. Probably not as tasty as the real thing, he thought. "Down, boy," he said in what he hoped were soothing tones. "Back off. Play dead." The Horta came within a few centimeters of Jake's boots, and Jake jumped backward, bumping into Nog.
The newborn Horta had obviously never attended obedience school.
Cowering behind him, Nog let out an alarmed scream. Turning around quickly, Jake saw another Horta burning its way through the maze. He couldn't believe it. How could there be two of them? Could their stolen Horta have reproduced already? There was no other explanation. Unless.
We never reactivated the stasis field around the other eggs.
A sudden chill rushed over his body as the full implications of what he and Nog had done sunk in.
Maybe there were more than two Hortas loose. Per- haps neither of the Hortas in the holosuite was the one they'd left downstairs in Quark's storeroom. If that was true, then all the eggs must have hatched--and it was all their fault.
"Nog, get us out of here now." "Huh?" Nog's terrified gaze jumped back and forth between the two approaching Hortas. "Shut off the stupid maze, Nog!" This time he got through. Nog stopped trembling and pulled himself together. "Computer," he said loudly. "Program code: Midas. Stop and save." The labyrinth vanished, replaced by an empty blue chamber marked by a gridlike arrangement of lighted yellow strips. The Hortas howled in protest, sounding like overloaded phasers about to explode. Jake and Nog took advantage of their puzzlement to run through what was now clear and open space
to the closest exit. The minute the door slid open, Jake heard the shouts and confusion below.
He knew what they meant, too. "The Hortas," he groaned at Nog. "They're loose, all of them, and they're eating the station!" An awful sense of guilt suffused his thoughts; despite the screams from the Promenade, he felt more ashamed than frightened.
"We have to do something!" "Hide?" Nog suggested helpfully. "Steal a runabout and escape?" They stepped out onto an empty walk- way. Jake breathed a sigh of relief as the door to the holosuite shut behind them, cutting them off, if only for the moment, from the pair of Hortas within.
"No," he said. "We have to help somehow, do what we can to make up for this disaster!" Nog shook his head. "I don't like that idea. It sounds too... hu-man." His expression brightened for a minute. "Do you think there's any looting going on?" "It's our fault," Jake insisted.
"So," Nog replied. "Nobody knows that... do they?" He looked around apprehensively, ending with a wary glance at the entrance to the holosuite.
Clenching his fists in frustration, Jake took a deep breath and tried again. "It's matter of responsibility, Nog." "You mean, survival," his friend corrected him.