by Неизвестный
"A second more..." Kira said, examining two of the stun grenades. They had timers, exactly as she'd hoped. She adjusted them for thirty-second delays, activated them, and set them in the front comers of the lift. Now they couldn't be seen until you were actually inside.
Dancing back, she motioned for the two ensigns to release the doors. They did so, and the lift closed with an almost audible snap. It headed up.
"They'll send more soldiers down," Aponte said.
"I know," Kira said, her thoughts racing, "but I think they're going to be moving very, very slowly, especially if they think we've been booby-trapping the tunnels. It should buy us more time."
Ttan felt herself go rigid. That high-pitched vibrat- ing noise that made her cilia tremble and set her silicon blood surging--she'd only heard similar sounds twice before.
Once had been on Janus VI, when a reactor had overloaded, flooding a sector of the mines with human-killing radiation. The humans had used that sound as an alarm.
The second time had been aboard the Puyallup, when the Cardassian ship had attacked. It had sent all of the Federation officers scrambling to their stations.
Ttan guessed this sound--so similar in many respects--also meant something had gone wrong.
Had the Cardassians lost their reactor, too? Were they even now dying at their stations as they tried to stop radiation from flooding through their little under- ground complex?
For a half-second Ttan began to tunnel deeper into the rock, but then one of the Cardassian guards appeared in front of her cell. "Creature," he called.
"What do you want of me?" Ttan answered.
"Gul Mavek orders you to remain here, in your cell.
There is a minor security problem on another level.
Do not let the alarms concern you. He reminds you that your children will suffer if you fail to obey his commands. Do you understand?" "Yes," Ttan said bitterly. "I understand."
A beam of crimson energy blasted the wall above Julian's head, showering him with jagged bits of stone.
One stung his cheek, and he jerked back. Raising a hand to his face, he felt blood.
"Just a small cut, Doctor," Wilkens assured him.
"Get those carts up here!" Julian called. He stuck his hand around the corner and fired a quick salvo from his phaser, trying to keep the Cardassians back a little longer. Six Cardassian soldiers in battle armor had been advancing steadily up the tunnel for the last five minutes. Their superior weapons coupled with armor gave them a decided edge, Julian thought. He'd already retreated half a dozen times. He didn't know how much longer his men would be able to hold them off.
Five of the six-wheeled carts rolled up. Bajorans with control boxes arrived right behind them. The carts were his last hope.
"I want you to line them up across the tunnel," he said. A blockade might well slow down the Cardas- sians, he thought.
"Right away, Doctor," they assured him.
As Julian watched, first one, then another rolled around the comer and lined up facing the attacking Cardassians. Phaser beam after phaser beam struck their cargo bins, punching through the rhodinium like knives through paper. The Cardassians were firing at people they assumed were hiding in the carts. There weren't any--he had known better than to leave them inside.
Suddenly inspiration struck. "Advance them!" he said. "Keep the line of carts even. Push the Cardas- sians back!" He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try. He eased forward to see what happened as the carts began to roll down the corridor, gaining speed.
Side by side, the five of them took up the entire passageway. Nobody could get by them... or shoot around them, which was what he'd originally had in mind when he'd ordered them brought forward.
As he watched, Cardassian phaser fire continued to strafe the carts from the other side. The soldiers seemed to be holding their positions, firing blast after useless blast. Julian sucked in a sudden horrified breath when he realized they had no intention of retreating--that they'd be killed.
He winced as startled screams and several yelps of pain came from the six unseen Cardassians. Two carts veered to the side as bodies jammed under their wheels. Still the line continued to roll forward. When they cleared the spot where the Cardassian troops had stood, Julian noticed the rather unpleasant mess they'd left behind. Not only had the carts run down the six Cardassians, the treads on their wheels had done a pretty good job of chewing them up into so much mulch.
Cheering, the Bajorans stormed out to search the remains. Perhaps something was still useable, Julian thought. He suddenly felt a little dizzy and had to sit down. I shouM be getting used to battles, he told himself.
"Doctor, you're losing blood," Wilkens said. "I think you might want to let me treat that cut on your cheek." Julian glanced up at him. "You said it was just a scratch." "I, uh, may have underreported it, sir. It didn't seem like the right time--" "Yes, quite right," Julian assured him. He under- stood entirely. You don't tell the commander he has a bad cut in the middle of a battle.
He pressed one hand to the wound to try to stanch the flow of blood. "Get my medical bag, will you?" "Right, sir." He hurried to get it "Captain Dyoran!" Julian called. The tall, gaunt man stalked over, looking strangely satisfied. Like many Bajorans, Julian thought, Dyoran seemed to have a thirst for Cardassian blood that bordered on mania.
Dyoran snapped to attention and gave him a Bajoran salute. "Two working phaser rifles, six vibroknives, and fifteen stun grenades recovered, sir," he said. "And Lapyn just showed up with still more weapons. He's currently handing them out to the most able-bodied. About half of us are going to be fighting- fit." "Great," Julian said.
"May 1 add, sir," Dyoran continued, "that was a brilliant move." "Routine Federation training," Julian said with a self-deprecating little shrug. When in doubt, impro- vise. He'd seen Sisko do that more times than he liked to think about.
Dyoran still looked awed.
"Now," Julian told him. "I have a feeling Major Kira is stretching their security forces rather thin up above. I don't think we have anything to worry about for the time being. Send out scouting parties. I want to find a way onto the upper levels... an unguarded way." "Yes, sir!" Dyoran saluted, then turned and sprinted back to the others. Minute by minute, second by second, the Bajorans seemed to be gathering their strength, Julian thought, like professional athletes gaining a second wind. In seconds, Dyoran had teams out to explore neighboring tunnels.
For a moment Julian considered trying to contact Kira, but ultimately he decided against it. She'd given him strict orders to maintain communicator silence so the Cardassians wouldn't be able to pinpoint their locations. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening with her up there.
Alarmis were still ringing; he could hear them in the distance. If nothing else, he knew it meant Kira was still alive and fighting. That, or the Cardassians were about to focus their complete attention on rounding up their escaped prisoners.
"A one-second delay," Kira told her team, "can be more effective than anything else, if you do it right." She ran a trip wire across the corridor, with one end tied to the pin of a stun grenade. What I wouldn't give for a couple of plasma bombs right now, she thought.
The next Cardassian who came down this corridor would get far more than he had bargained for, but he'd live through it. A plasma bomb, on the other hand, offered a far more permanent solution.
Rising, she checked the trip wire for proper tension, then set off up the corridor. She'd instructed Ensign Aponte to take tricorder readings for Ttan. Now that the Cardassians knew they were there, it didn't make sense for them not to use the tricorder. A Horta, Kira thought, might be more than enough to equal the odds.
"She's two levels up and a hundred and forty meters ahead," Aponte said.
"What's above us?" "A room... no occupants, Major." "Stand back." Kira raised her phaser, adjusted its setting, and began cutting into the wall. The wall- board came off easily, revealing rock. She quickly cut handholds into it. Wh
en she reached the corridor's ceiling, she sliced a very neat hole through it.
Then she holstered her phaser, tested the handholds she'd cut for temperature, and when she decided they wouldn't burn her, began to climb. She popped up into a Cardassian's rather spartan living quarters. It had a bed, a closet, a small table, a single chair, and a replicator. The weapons rack next to the door held a phaser rifle and a pair of hand weapons.
She climbed out and helped Muckerheide and Aponte up. Muckerheide appropriated the weapons while Aponte took a quick tricorder scan of the area around them. "Two Cardassians running in the corri- dor outside," the ensign said. "Wait... they're pass- ing us." Kira relaxed a bit. She didn't want to fight the Cardassians on two sides at once. Having them close on her tail was bad enough.
A dull whump of sound echoed from the opening in the floor. Someone had just set off the first of the booby traps she'd left behind, she realized with some satisfaction. The others would be coming more slowly now. Perhaps she'd gained them a few more minutes.
"How is the corridor outside?" she asked.
"Empty," Aponte said.
Kira opened the door. "Out," she said. "Keep watch. I want to set another booby trap here." She pulled out two more stun grenades and set to work.
One more level to go, she thought, and we'll have you free, Ttan. HoM on a few more minutes.
"Sir," Captain Dyoran said to Dr. Bashir, "we've found a freight lift. Apparently they use it to transport raw materials to the surface. It's currently in use, but the whole process appears to be automated. I think we can override its positronic controls and have it take us to any level we choose." "Excellent," Julian said. He patted the plastic patch on his cheek; it had been an easy matter to seal the cut, but he'd taped it anyway to make sure it stayed clean.
He had a feeling he'd be doing a lot more jumping around before they escaped from the Cardassian base.
"We'll move everyone up higher. There must be plenty of places to hide. When we get everyone settled, we'll find Major Kira and the others." "Right." Captain Dyoran moved off, calling orders, and to Julian's eyes a rather motley procession soon assembled. He took his place at the head of the line of Bajorans, with Dyoran at his side, and when he judged everyone ready, he started for the freight lift.
When everyone was moving, he stepped to the side to watch, lending a hand here, keeping the Bajorans' spirits up, keeping everyone to a steady pace. He wanted no stragglers. The lookouts watching the side tunnels would report it if more Cardassians appeared.
In the meantime, they had to find a more secure place to hide.
Dyoran had the freight lift's doors open by the time he got there. Inside, huge cargo containers of raw ore had been stacked nearly to the ceiling.
There wasn't enough room for a single person, he saw, let alone the fifty-two now assembled. There were disappointed.moans from everyone around him.
Clearly they couldn't get on... and they didn't have hours to unload the lift. Its hijacking would be noticed fairly quickly.
"Close the doors," Julian finally said. That was the only logical decision he could make. "Send it up to the surface." "What?" Captain Dyoran demanded. "Are you crazy?" "I'm not up to shifting all that ore, and you're not, either," Julian said. "They'll send the lift back down when it's empty, We'll take it then." "Right!" Dyoran said, grinning. He motioned to his men, and reluctantly it seemed to Julian they let the huge doors close with a boom that shook the tunnel.
Julian took out his tricorder and wandered a few meters up the tunnel. When he had cleared the others, he took a quick reading, searching for Ttan. He spotted her easily this time, twelve levels up and two hundred and eighty meters to the right. Thatk the level we'll try for, he decided. If nothing else, he might be able to help Kira rescue the Horta.
CHAPTER 14
SIDE BY SIDE, the Hortas resembled a range of craggy, stone hills mysteriously given the power of indepen- dent movement. Three Hortas led the pack; the width of the corridor forced the others to follow closely behind. From several yards away, the Hortas looked to be almost full grown now, about the length and width of Ops transporter pad. Any larger, O'Brien thought, and the mountains would indeed be coming to Mo- hammed. "What are they after?" he asked.
"How shotfid I know?" Odo replied brusquely. The shapeshifter stood directly in front of O'Brien, flanked by a team of security men and women.
Looking over Odo's shoulder, O'Brien saw the lead Hortas moving hesitantly, but irrevocably, onto the bridge and toward the core. Unlike his failed defense of the weapons tower, the site of which he had selected more or less arbitrarily, this time he knew he was at the crucial battlefield. Even still, skeleton forces were posted at the other two bridges in case the Hortas, despite appearances, scattered and attacked the other bridges as well. All three locations awaited his instruc- tions. As long as their communications held out, any success here could be mimicked immediately by teams elsewhere on the core. O'Brien hoped a solution existed.
"They're moving slower than before," Odo volun- teered. "I think perhaps they learned something from the disaster in the habitat ring. They don't want to end up in space, so they're more cautious in their tunnel: ing." "But not scared enough to stay put?" O'Brien said.
"No," Odo said. "Unfortunately, they're like hu- manoids in that respect. They don't know when to stay home." And where is your home, Odo? O'Brien resisted the temptation to respond aloud. "Constable," he asked instead, "are you ready to play the 'mama' trick again?" Odo grimaced through flattened features. "If I have to," he said. "Prior experience, however, indicates that my influence over them has its limits; even disguised as their mother, I could not keep that one Horta from tunneling to his death--and nearly killing the rest of them. Frankly, the situation calls for a better, less personal strategy." His stern blue eyes challenged O'Brien. "I thought you Starfleet types specialized in pulling technological fixes out of the air." "If I have to," O'Brien said, bristling a bit at the sarcastic tone of Odo's comment. Okay, he thought, l'll throw the first ball then. "Shields in place," he ordered. "Maximum strength." The oncoming phalanx of Hortas intersected with.
the first shield right away. Blinding flashes of tur- quoise energy erupted wherever the Hortas' rocky exterior came into contact with the invisible barrier.
The Hortas rumbled in protest, but did not retreat.
Before O'Brien's disbelieving gaze, they pushed for- ward against the field. Acrid white vapors rose from the Hortas' lumps and crevices. The bursts of blue light escaping the violated force field became diffused in a thick, roiling fog. Even from a safe distance away, the acidic fumes stung O'Brien's eyes and nose. He blinked the tears away, wiping his cheek with his sleeve. "More power," he demanded. "Divert every- thing to the forward shield." A Bajoran technician raised her hands helplessly.
"That's all we've got, Chief. Half the power conduits on this level are fused, melted, or otherwise inopera- tive." "Steal some juice from Quark's Place if you have to," O'Brien told her. "I don't care if every holograph- ic floozie on this entire station goes to her eternal reward, give me more power!" 'Tin trying, Chief," she said. A silver-haired wom- an in a gray uniform, she had pried open a control pad in the wall. Now her fingers raced through a series of operations, approaching the problem from one ave- nue after another. O'Brien glanced nervously at the Hortas. They were less than a third of the way across the bridge, but they were making progress. God, he thought, horrified, there seemed to be dozens of them.
"There!" the Bajoran said triumphantly, looking.
eagerly toward the bridge to witness the fruits of her efforts~ For a second, her exuberance seemed justified. The coruscating sparks of blue flared brighter while, simul- taneously, the Hortas' low rumbling gave way to a angry, crystalline squeal that made O'Brien's ears ache. One of the aliens even appeared to bounce back a few feet, repelled forcibly by the unexpected surge in the field's strength. Hah, O'Brien thought, maybe we'll put these snappers in a playpen yet.
Then the Ho
rtas regrouped and confronted the shield again. The crimson veins running irregularly over their armored shells pulsed with exertion, glow- ing redder by the moment as the Hortas visibly strained to force their way through. And, inch by inch, as O'Brien's heart pounded and his mouth grew dry as dust, the Hortas came closer. "They're not babies," he protested loudly, "they're bulldozers!" A cry from the Bajoran woman tore his attention away from the advancing Hortas. She jerked back her hands in time as the control pad exploded in a spray of glittering electrical fire. With a quick command into his badge, O'Brien ordered the display off-line. "Are you okay?" he asked the woman.
She nodded affirmatively. There were carbon burns on her sleeves and collar. "I'm sorry, Chief. Feedback from the field caused an overload." "Is the shielding still in place?" "Barely," she said. She rubbed at the burns on her uniform, but only succeeded in smudging the ashy black marks.