The tactical officer appeared to be doing her best not to appear frustrated. “The vessel just emerged from some sort of transwarp fissure. But it corresponds to no known configuration.”
“I’ve seen this type of ship before,” Vaughn said.
Ruriko nodded gravely. “Me, too. It’s Borg.”
Maybe we don’t have to be careless, Vaughn thought. But we’re already unlucky.
Both the T’Plana-Hath and the Valkyrie were no match for weaponry of the small Borg vessel. Within minutes of engagement the T’Plana-Hath was crippled and the Valkyrie had fallen back several thousand kilometers.
Vaughn, Ruriko, and Sotak watched helplessly as the Borg vessel sent a shaft of blinding energy down into the Uridi’sine atmosphere.
“The Borg vessel is linking with the mining station. It appears to be conducting a transfer of data.”
Vaughn realized then that the entire mission was a failure. “Veruda’s brainchild must have somehow made contact with the Borg before we cut off its access to the subspace bands.”
“Why would it wish to draw the attention of the Borg?” Sotak said, clearly puzzled. “The Borg would only seek to assimilate it.”
“Or maybe,” Vaughn said, “the A.I. thinks it’s sophisticated enough to assimilate the Borg.”
“Combining all it knows about Cardassian armaments with the Borg’s most lethal technology,” Ruriko said. “God only knows what a merger like that could do to the Federation.”
“We may already be too late to prevent it,” Sotak observed. “The Borg should be able to upload the A.I. in seconds.”
Ruriko shook her head. “Ordinarily, yes. But the data feed is being attenuated by the mining station’s forcefield. It’s going to take a couple more minutes at least.”
Vaughn looked into Ruriko’s eyes. “Is the prototype ready?”
“Ready is a relative term. Remember, my command telemetry can be jammed the same way we’re jamming the A.I. So I won’t be able to control it remotely. I’ll need to deploy the weapon on-site.”
Vaughn swallowed hard. “Assemble your away team, Ruriko.”
“Already done. Unfortunately, the transporter’s out, so we’ll have to rely on the Valkyrie for our beam-in. And we can’t beam anywhere until we pierce the mining station’s defenses.”
The tactical officer was suddenly as close to beside herself as Vaughn had ever seen a Vulcan get. “The Borg vessel has ceased its data upload.”
So the A.I. has copied itself onto the Borg vessel, Vaughn thought. Very bad.
“And it’s powering up its weapons again!”
Sotak called for a red alert, but it quickly became clear that the T’Plana-Hath was not the Borg ship’s target.
The mining station was. Before Vaughn’s horrified eyes, a tremendous explosion flared up near the planet’s equator. The A.I. down there was dead—along with hundreds of innocent people.
On the screen Vaughn could see that the Borg vessel was preparing to break orbit. With a copy of Veruda’s A.I. aboard. Now the damned thing can spread from here to the Delta Quadrant.
There was time for only one decision. Vaughn knew the members of Ruriko’s team intimately. They were good, but none of them had her combined expertise in A.I. and nanoscience. And only her mastery of both disciplines—as well as each team member’s assistance—could ensure the correct deployment of the prototype.
Ruriko spoke up, evidently thinking that he was taking too long to decide what course to take. “We both knew it might come to this, Elias. Let’s get on with it.”
Vaughn nodded, feeling blasted inside. Unable to trust his emotions, he allowed his training to take over, as though he’d just placed a shuttlecraft on autopilot.
“Commander Tenmei, execute the plan. Take it directly to the Borg.”
She didn’t hesitate. She knew what had to be done, just as he did, as well as the cost. He watched as she opened a com channel at one of the vacant stations. “Disassembler team, prepare for immediate transport onto the Borg ship. Valkyrie, this is Commander Tenmei. Please beam our away team aboard and prepare to pursue that Borg vessel.”
A Valkyrie bridge officer acknowledged Ruriko’s request and asked when the team expected to need an evac.
She chuckled. “Tenmei out.”
Ruriko faced Vaughn. “Goodbye, Elias. It’s been a wonderful life at times.”
Rare times. Those times between missions when I could get home.
“Goodbye,” he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. The transporter took her.
Vaughn stood on the silent bridge, watching the images on the viewer. The Valkyrie slowly gained on the departing Borg vessel. After several tense moments the tactical officer confirmed that the away team had made it aboard.
Ruriko’s static-laden voice scored the air, relayed by the Valkyrie. The weapon had been deployed. Trillions of tiny nanites, molecule-sized machines guided by Ruriko’s short-range subspace pulses and keyed to find and unwrite the Veruda A.I.’s underlying code, were already coursing through the Borg ship’s information conduits. She confirmed that the A.I. already seemed to be dying, apparently already too distracted to force the Borg to propogate its subroutines over the subspace bands.
But the team had to stay long enough to be sure.
If only this ship could maneuver, Vaughn thought, digging his fingers into his palms until they bled. Maybe Sotak could buy enough time to evac the away team, once Ruriko’s satisfied that they’re done in there….
Explosions began to rack the Borg vessel even as it opened up a transwarp conduit and vanished from normal space. Valkyrie stayed with it.
The other ship’s name hung over Vaughn like an accusation. Valkyrie, he thought. Chooser of the slain. How appropriate.
No one moved or spoke as Vaughn studied the empty starfield where the Borg vessel had been. Starfleet would understand that Ruriko and her team had exchanged their own lives for countless others. They would see it as Ruriko did. As the families of the other away team members surely would. Vaughn struggled to reassure himself that he had chosen the lesser of two evils.
“You made the only choice you could, Elias,” Dax said. “You must know that. And it sounds to me like Ruriko knew it, too.”
Vaughn nodded, but said nothing.
“I don’t think there’s anyone on this crew who blames you for wanting to restore Commander Tenmei. Nobody deserves what happened to her. But you can’t let yourself lose sight of the bigger picture.”
“I can’t let this opportunity go by, Dax,” Vaughn said. “I’m being given a chance to save her. How can I not take it?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Dax said. “We need to investigate that wreckage, see if we can determine what its mission was. We need to find that changeling on the surface and try to return her to her own people. And you need to address this situation with Prynn. All those things can be done while Julian continues to treat Ruriko.”
Vaughn released a long breath through his nose. “You’re right, of course.” For a long time he said nothing more, and try as Dax might, she couldn’t begin to guess his mind.
Finally he asked in a quiet voice, “It isn’t easy being my first officer, is it?”
Taken aback by the question, Dax didn’t know how to respond at first. “No,” she admitted. “I’d have to say it isn’t. But then, I didn’t take the job because I expected it to be easy.”
Vaughn nodded as if confirming something he’d long suspected. “You know, I never expected to be in a position like this. That I would face a moment when I would put my needs ahead of duty. All my life, in every situation I was thrust into, I always felt as if I knew what the right decision was, even when I didn’t want to make it. Always. Whatever saved the most lives, that’s what I chose. And I knew down to the last cell of my body, from the moment you brought me that padd in the mess hall, what the right decision was here. But this time, I made what I knew was the wrong decision. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of fail
ing her again.”
“These are extraordinary circumstances that no one could have foreseen,” Dax said. “The odds that she alone would survive the crash, much less be detected by the very ship you and Prynn are serving on, have to be astronomical. Beyond astronomical,” she corrected, and suddenly realized something she’d never considered until now. “It’s an impossible set of coincidences.”
“No,” Vaughn said. “It isn’t. There’s an explanation for all of this, and until now I’ve managed to avoid looking at it too closely. But it’s high time I dealt with it.” Vaughn rose to his feet and Dax stood with him. “Assemble an away team and send them down to the planet.”
“Aye, sir.” Dax turned to go, but Vaughn stopped her.
“Ezri.”
She turned to look at him.
“Thanks for being my first officer,” he said. “And my friend.”
14
Why is it that everything always goes to hell around here at the most inconvenient time?
The thought hung over Quark’s head like a black cloud as he stalked through the habitat ring. After years of navigating political changeovers, wars, religious upheavals, treacherous business partners, the FCA, the Orion Syndicate, and even democratic reforms on Ferenginar, it astounded Quark that he could still run aground in the Great River, even when he was about to set course for deeper waters.
He and Ro were supposed to be making plans to leave the station for good, but ever since that shifty Trill had killed Shakaar—I knew he couldn’t be trusted—she’d refused to speak to him, or reply to his messages. She seemed to have forgotten all about the fact that she was supposed to be putting her life on the station behind her. They both were.
The thought of going to Rom’s old quarters didn’t help his mood. Not just because his idiot brother and former employee was now Grand Nagus of the Ferengi Alliance, but also because its current occupant was proving to be an even bigger pain in the lobes than Rom had ever been.
At least she’s paying her rent on time, Quark thought. Subletting the rooms to Treir had its financial benefits, to be sure, but he felt he was being consistently overcompensated in aggravation. Still, Treir was an Orion female, and that alone made her one of the bar’s main attractions these days. Her, he thought grudgingly, and her heavily muscled protégé, that Bajoran dabo boy, Hetik.
Dabo boy. Quark repressed a shudder, as he did every time the two words came together in his mind, and steeled himself as he stopped in front of Treir’s door. He pressed the touchpad mounted into the bulkhead and signaled admittance.
There was no answer, but Quark could hear giggling coming from inside the room.
“Treir, it’s Quark,” he said brusquely. “Let me in, I need to talk to you.”
“Go away,” came the reply.
“That’s no way to speak to your employer.”
“It’s my night off,” he heard her say. “Besides, I’ve got company.”
“Come on, Treir. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. This is important.”
Even through the metal door Quark’s sensitive ears heard the satisfying sound of a sigh of resignation. “I’m sorry about this,” he heard her tell her visitor.
Probably Hetik, Quark thought darkly. If those two are sleeping together, I’ll have to watch them even more closely than before.
The door opened, and to Quark’s abject shock, Morn walked out.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Quark demanded.
Morn favored him with a waggle of his meaty brow before he lumbered passed and headed off down the corridor. With his jaw hanging, Quark turned back to the doorway to demand an explanation from Treir, almost bumping into her. With one hand on the door frame and another perched on her curvacious hip, Treir stood in the threshold and glowered down at him from her two-meter height. “This had better be important.”
All questions about Morn suddenly evaporated as Quark focused on Treir. She looked terrible. Clad in dull gray sweatpants, floppy sandals, and a baggy T-shirt that read KISS ME, I’M IRISH, Treir looked…frumpy. Her long, lusterless hair was tied back in a knot, except for a few ropy locks that hung carelessly in front of her face.
“Are you sick?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s my night off,” she said through her teeth.
“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just—I’ve never seen you so…relaxed.”
She leaned forward menacingly. “Look a little closer. Do I seem relaxed?”
Quark swallowed. “Now that you mention it, no. Actually, you look like someone who’s spent too much time around Morn.”
Treir rolled her eyes and went back into her quarters. “What do you want?”
Quark followed her inside. “I just need to talk to you for a few minutes.”
Treir dropped onto a massive plush couch and crossed her feet atop the coffee table. “You already said that. What’s on your mind?”
“Ro,” Quark said.
Treir dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, please, not this.”
“Would it kill you just to listen to me?”
“Why me?”
“Because I need some objectivity,” Quark admitted angrily. “You’ve seen Laren and me interact more than anybody, and I need to talk to someone.”
Treir sighed. “Get on with it,” she said resignedly.
Quark sat on the edge of a chair facing the couch and leaned forward as he spoke. “You know I’m giving up the bar.”
Trier nodded. “Yes, I know. You aren’t the first male I’ve met who disappeared into the unknown when faced with a midlife crisis.”
“It’s not a midlife crisis!”
“Whatever. Why are we rehashing this?”
“What you don’t know is that Ro’s supposed to come with me,” Quark said. “She resigned her commission.”
That got Treir’s attention. She sat up. “Why?”
“For the same reason I’m leaving: the Federation.”
“Really,” Trier grunted. “Huh. That’s a surprise.”
“What’s so surprising?” Quark said defensively.
“Don’t get all indignant, Quark,” Treir said. “I just meant that I got the impression Ro was starting to like it here. I’m just surprised she’d want to leave.”
“That’s just it!” Quark said. “I’m starting to wonder if she really does. We’ve been talking for weeks about how our lives would change if Bajor joined the Federation, and when the idea to leave and go into business together came up, I thought she was all for it. She even told Kira she was quitting. Then Shakaar gets himself killed, and suddenly she’s more driven than ever. It’s as if I’ve ceased to exist. I haven’t been able to talk to her since the assassination.”
“Quark, what did you expect?” Treir asked. “That she’d turn her back on her planet during what may be its worst crisis since the Occupation?”
Quark stared at the floor, feeling frustrated and unsure how to articulate it. “I expected her to be honest with me,” he said.
Treir looked back at him in silence for a moment, then said, “Quark, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on between you two. On the surface you seem as preposterous a couple as I’ve ever encountered. But you’re right, ever since we escaped from the Orion Syndicate, I’ve had the opportunity to watch you both, and I can see that you two have managed to pierce the absurdity of the mere idea and actually made a connection.”
Quark was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. “What’s your point?”
“Do you love her?”
Quark became flustered. “I don’t know. No. Yes…. Maybe.”
Treir smiled. “Then let her be who she really is, whatever that turns out to be. That’s love. Anything else is just a transaction.”
Quark continued staring at the floor, shaking his head. “I have to be who I am, too,” he said quietly.
“And who is that exactly?” Treir asked.
Quark looked up and m
et Treir’s gaze. “You wanna know the truth? I’m not even sure I know anymore. Everything I do now, every choice I make, I keep making Laren part of the equation, whether I mean to or not. And now I wonder if the only way she and I will ever get together is if one of us becomes something we’re not. Which would kill it between us, wouldn’t it?” Been living on this station too long, he thought. I’m starting to think like these people.
“Have you ever stopped to consider,” Treir asked softly, “that the person you think you’re turning into is the one you’ve been all along, and just never realized it?”
Silence fell on the room, in the midst of which Quark wondered if he should fire Treir—or give her a raise. Then the silence was broken by a thud against the wall, coming from the corridor. It sounded as if a body had been thrown against it.
Treir was on her feet at once. “What the hell was that?”
“Probably a Klingon who had a few too many,” Quark said dismissively. “I’ve seen it before. Let security deal with it.”
Ignoring his advice, Treir went to the door and opened it. Quark chased after her. It wasn’t a Klingon. A Cardassian was leaning heavily against the wall a few meters away. And not just any Cardassian, Quark realized. It’s Dukat’s lookalike relative, Gul Macet. He doesn’t look too good, either. Oh, frinx, please don’t let it be another bad bottle of kanar….
“Are you all right?” Treir asked.
Macet was grimacing in pain, jerking his head violently as if experienceing some kind of attack. His hands clawed at his own face, drawing blood.
“Yuck,” Quark said.
Macet opened his eyes, seeming to fight to focus them on Quark and Trier, his lips moving soundlessly. He started to fall, but Treir ran up to him and caught him before he hit the deck.
“Heeellllpppp mmmeeeee…” the gul rasped.
Quark found a corridor companel. “Quark to infirmary. Medical emergency on the habitat ring. Section 015, level two. It’s Gul Macet.” If it was the kanar, at least he’d could say he tried to save the man’s life. What’s that smell?
“Goddess, what’s happening to him?” Treir said.
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