Jake swung the landtran into a wide circle. He had to admit he was beginning to enjoy this. By comparison to the starship Excalibur, or even to the Einstein shuttlecraft, the landtran was a clunky, outdated piece of machinery, but to Jake it felt big and powerful. He took the last part of the circle slowly. “Now what?” he asked.
Beside him the doctor was clicking some control on the phaser. “Now,” he said, “I want you to drive right through the center of the camp at top speed—and hope that the bridge is still down on the other side!”
“What are you going to do?” Jake asked, not able to keep some of his worry and fear out of his voice.
“I’m going to show up these Turnaways for what they are,” said Dr. Bashir. Then he coughed self-consciously. “At least if I can shoot straight, I am. Be ready to brake if I tell you to. But then we have to pile right ahead as fast as possible. Veldor and Beklesh may have escaped from the garage by now, and we can’t take chances. Ready? Go!”
Jake revved the engine to a splitting roar. The landtran leapt ahead, its yellow headlamps picking out the way. Trying hard to keep the vehicle on a straight path, Jake followed his own treadmarks back into the camp. They whizzed past the stunned guards; then tents, metal huts, and fires were flashing past. Dr. Bashir pointed at a metallic dome in the very center of camp, off to their right. “There,” he said. “That’s my target. Hold it steady—”
The wind was blasting Jake’s face. He squinted against it, and then he noticed that a gang of several men were running toward them, still far ahead. One of them had a hand phaser out and fired it, but the beam passed harmlessly by somewhere off to Jake’s left. “They’re shooting!” Jake Yelled.
“Steady,” the doctor said. “Here goes!”
He fired the phaser rifle. A white-hot beam of energy shot from it, blasted into the metal dome, and lit up everything around with an eerie blaze, like a bolt of lightning. The dome exploded with a red roar that flashed by to their right as they passed it. A split-second later, the shock wave hit, causing the landtran to lurch alarmingly. Ahead of them, the guards who had been running toward them staggered and fell, shielding their eyes. A second, deafening explosion went off behind them, and then the metal bridge was ahead. Now two sentries stood at it, but they leapt away as the landtran bore down on them, and neither was able to get off a shot.
Picture 99
Then they were out of the camp, into the round, sandy bowl where Jake, Nog, and Sesana had watched the Turnaways practicing and drilling. Jake headed for the narrow space between the two rockslides. “All right,” Dr. Bashir said. “I think you can stop and turn around now, but let’s just wait here.”
Jake was shaking from excitement, but he carefully stopped the vehicle, then jockeyed it around until it was turned back toward camp. He blinked. A fire was raging there, red flames and black smoke boiling up. “What did you do?” Jake asked.
“Tore the lid off the camp,” the doctor replied. “You see, while he had me as his unwilling guest, Tikar Antol pointed out something that he was very proud of. It was a stolen Romulan cloaking device, and he had it in that metal dome. That’s the only thing that lets the Turnaways stay here, you know—no one could detect them from the air, and no one on the ground knew quite how large the camp was or how much opposition they would face. Tikar said the people in town thought he probably had a couple of thousand soldiers here.”
“And he didn’t?” Jake asked.
“Maybe two hundred at the most,” the doctor replied. “It’s a big camp, but lots of it has been unoccupied since the Cardassians pulled out. Tikar has a fearsome reputation, but it’s mostly based on bluff. Now the Bajorans will be able to see exactly how puny his threat is.”
“Not to the Vedek, though,” Jake said.
“That’s true.” The doctor’s voice was thoughtful. “They have an assassin who will try to kill the new Vedek tomorrow at the installation ceremony. For me they had something a little more exotic planned, involving drugs and something even worse.”
“I heard.”
“Yes, well—” Suddenly Dr. Bashir stood up. “Here comes Tikar,” he said. “This is going to be the tricky part.”
Jake swallowed hard. Whatever he thought of Tikar Antol, however ruthless and evil he seemed, there was no denying that the leader of the Turnaways was a brave man. With only two guards flanking him, he came striding out of camp, straight into the glare of the landtran’s headlamps. He stopped a dozen paces away.
“Humans,” he said, his voice oozing contempt. “I suppose you are proud of yourselves. You must think yourselves very clever indeed. But you forgot one small detail. We have that detail inside, and its name is Nog. If you surrender now, we will let the Ferengi live. If not—”
Casually Dr. Bashir leaned forward. “You are in no position to bargain, Antol,” he said pleasantly. “We’ve delayed you too long now. Already the authorities in town know we’re here, and that you held me prisoner. Already they have notified Deep Space Nine of that little fact. And, unfortunately for your plans, a Federation starship happens to be docked at Deep Space Nine. I don’t think you’re going to want to be here when the Excalibur shows up.”
“You are lying,” growled Tikar Antol.
“Believe that if you wish,” Dr. Bashir said, his voice cool. “You will see the truth soon enough. Let me warn you, however, that the Federation does not treat its enemies with much mercy. Not when they kidnap officers and hold prisoner the son of a high Ferengi official, anyway.”
Jake almost choked, but he managed not to laugh out loud at the doctor’s description of Nog’s father, Rom.
For a moment Tikar stood in the lights, his face rigid with anger and frustration. Then he said, “What do you propose?”
Dr. Bashir waved his hand. “I don’t think you’ll be able to cloak your camp anymore. You’d best be on your way to find a new base. And I suggest when you leave, you’d do well to leave the vandellium device behind. We’ll let the Starfleet weapons experts disarm it. You and your Turnaways have about five hours to travel as far from here as possible before dawn comes. Be sure you take everyone Tikar—including your assassin. Otherwise, I can’t be sure what my friends in Starfleet might do to you.”
One of Tikar’s henchmen began to protest, but Tikar cut him off with an angry glance. Then he stared at Dr. Bashir. “I have been a freedom fighter for a long time,” he said. “I know when to take my losses and retreat. However, let me warn you that you have made a dangerous enemy of Tikar Antol. Our next meeting will not be so … pleasant.”
“Send the Ferengi boy out,” Dr. Bashir said. “Then you and your people can go anywhere you please. Just be away from this place by dawn, if you know what’s best for you.”
Tikar turned on his heel and walked back toward the camp. The fire was still leaping and sending up sparks from inside. After a moment Jake heard Dr. Bashir exhale.
“You were great,” Jake said.
“I have never been so scared in my life,” Dr. Bashir confessed in a trembling voice.
Startled, Jake looked at him. The doctor was sitting back in his seat, his eyes closed, his face glistening in the light of the distant fire. “I thought you wanted adventure,” Jake said.
“I’ve had enough, thank you,” returned the doctor.
Jake sat thinking about the Space Falcon and his latest triumph for a few minutes. Then a small figure came hurrying toward them. Jake grinned. It was Nog, safe and sound.
CHAPTER 10
If Sakelo City had seemed crowded when they first arrived, today it was absolutely bursting at the seams. Jake, Nog, and Sesana stared all around them at a huge, colorful throng of people, cheering, shouting, and waving.
A stately procession wound through the streets, a dozen wagons pulled by the strange green draft animals. The wagons wore decorations of flowers, red and orange, yellow and a startling blue-green, and in each wagon stood clusters of monks wearing equally brilliant robes.
Except for one flower-decke
d open carriage that held Jake, Nog, Sesana, Dr. Bashir—and the new Vedek. Sesana looked stunned. She had gone to her father the night before, and she had called out the city constables, all right. A force of them had met Jake and the others as they rode back toward town in the landtran. But then Sesana had found herself in deep trouble with her parents. Fortunately, Dr. Bashir had explained how vital her help had been, and then word had come from the Vedek himself that all four were to join him in the procession.
Jake was still worried, for he remembered Tikar Antol’s threat. Somewhere out in that crowd an assassin might still be lurking. Perhaps even now someone was aiming a phaser from a window, or preparing to toss a bomb, or—Jake swallowed. He did not like to think of all the murderous possibilities.
The procession stopped in one of the largest bazaars in the city, where a huge stage had been erected. The Vedek insisted on their accompanying him there. The grandfatherly old man strode to the center of the stage and lifted his hands for silence.
When at last the cheering had died down, he spoke. He said simple words, words that hoped for healing and for peace. Bajor was one world, he said, and no matter how much her children disagreed among themselves, they were still her children—one people, who had to realize their kinship and their duties to one another. Then he gestured to Dr. Bashir.
With a painful grin frozen on his face, the doctor walked forward. The crowd looked at him expectantly. Dr. Bashir cleared his throat and said, “Uh, as a citizen of the United Federation of Planets, I rejoice with you today. We wish for nothing more than the day when all Bajorans can live together in harmony and peace. It is a big universe, my friends. There is room in it for every belief—and room enough for every believer to respect all the others.” Then he waved.
The people in the bazaar cheered him wildly, but when he turned away, the doctor still wore his sickly grin. “Now, that is frightening,” he whispered to Jake.
“What? Did you see an assassin?” Jake asked.
The doctor shook his head. “No. I mean speaking in public,” he muttered.
The ceremony went on for two more hours. Long before it was over, Sesana, Jake, and Nog managed to slip away. “Your friend has done the Bajoran Council a great favor by standing with Vedek Carik,” she told them. “They will think more kindly of the Federation now.”
“I hope so,” Jake said. “All that worry and danger should be worth something.”
“When do you leave for Deep Space Nine?” asked Sesana.
“In a few hours,” Nog said. “Which means that I have no time for trading. Oh, well, my uncle can make some sort of profit from these trinkets.” He rattled his backpack, which now held all sorts of trade goods.
Sesana smiled at him, and then she unfastened the chain that she wore around her neck. “Here,” she said, handing the anthrolite necklace over. “This is the prettiest one I ever found. I hope it makes you happy.”
Nog’s eyes lighted up. “You are a beautiful and kind lady,” he said. “If ever there is any service I can do for you, you have only to speak. I’ll give you bargain rates.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I hope we can come back some day,” he said. “Or maybe you can visit Deep Space Nine.”
“I’d like that,” Sesana confessed. “It must be beautiful to be out in space, away from all the dull cares and worries of a planet like Bajor.”
With a smile Jake said, “Well, let’s just say that living in space has its moments.”
Jake, Nog, and Dr. Bashir left that afternoon on the Einstein. Nog was all curiosity. “Why didn’t Tikar Antol try to kill the Vedek?” he asked. “In that crowd, anyone could have taken a shot at him.”
“I know the reason,” Jake told him. “It’s because Dr. Bashir let Tikar Antol know that the Excalibur is in the neighborhood.”
“Right,” the doctor said, his voice surprisingly grim. “You see, the Turnaways have no place to hide now. If the Bajoran Council thought that he had assassinated a leader like the Vedek Carik in the presence of Federation representatives, they would surely invite Starfleet intervention. That’s the last thing that Tikar would want—especially now that he no longer has that little vandellium bomb.”
“They found it, then?” asked Nog.
“The constables brought it in. It’s in a safe place now. The Council will ask Starfleet to disarm it.”
Nog did not look as if he were reassured. “What if he gets another one?"
“I don’t think that’s likely. This one was stolen from a Cardassian force, years ago. Even the Cardassians rarely used them, though, so it’s unlikely that any are left on the planet. And making one is out of the question, considering Bajor’s level of technology.”
Jake sighed. “I’d like to go back to Sakelo City some day,” he said.
“So would I,” Dr. Bashir said, his voice sarcastic. “But this time alone. Do you boys know how much trouble you’re in?”
“What!” roared Nog. “You don’t mean you’re going to turn us in?”
“Nog, they must know by now that you’ve been away,” Dr. Bashir replied. “They—”
“Listen,” Nog said. “We have it all arranged. My father has seen to it that everyone thinks Jake is with me. With luck, we’ll get back to Deep Space Nine and no one will be the wiser. Adults don’t notice kids, except when they’re in the way.”
Dr. Bashir shook his head. “That’s no good. I’ll simply have to tell your parents what happened.”
“Oh, man,” groaned Jake. He doubted if he would ever see a planet again after his dad heard about this little stunt. And certainly not Bajor—not after Sakelo City had proved to be every bit as dangerous as Commander Sisko had feared. “Do you have to tell?”
“I can’t see any way out of it,” the doctor told them. “After all, I’m an adult, and I knew that the trip could be risky. You boys could have been killed, and then—”
“What!” Nog said. “Hey, we weren’t the ones who went off with old Tikar and got captured.”
Dr. Bashir frowned. “That’s beside the point. You stowed away, and that’s a serious offense.”
“Wait a minute,” Nog said. A crafty grin spread across his face. “Let’s take a Ferengi approach. Maybe we can bargain a little about this. First, you’ll admit we saved you.”
“Well,” Dr. Bashir said, “you helped, certainly, but as a matter of fact, I was planning my escape even before Jake showed up.”
Nog gave Jake a meaningful look. “Right,” he said. “But we did help.”
“Yes-s,” said Dr. Bashir slowly. “You did help.”
“That’s right,” Jake said. “We were there when you needed us.” Although he gave no sign of it, he felt a deep gratitude toward Nog. His Ferengi friend would not be in trouble, because Quark had plotted with Rom to get them down to the surface. Nog was doing all this for Jake’s benefit—and at absolutely no charge. It was a wonderful act of friendship for a Ferengi.
Nog took up the argument: “And if we hadn’t been, and if your own plan did not work, you would have been drugged, and the vandellium bomb would have wiped out everybody on Deep Space Nine, and all the crews of all the ships docked there, right?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Bashir again. “What are you getting at, Nog?”
But Nog wasn’t quite ready to tell. “And,” he said, “if we hadn’t helped, and your own plan had failed, then the new Vedek would have been killed. Maybe someone less friendly to the Federation would have taken his place. Correct?”
“I still don’t see what you’re trying to say,” Dr. Bashir insisted.
“Simple,” Nog replied. “If no one notices we have been gone, you just don’t mention us at all. That way you get all the glory yourself. If people have noticed that we were away, then you tell them how much we helped you. If we helped you to escape and to save the Vedek’s life, then we did a good thing. If we saved Deep Space Nine from a vandellium device, we did something even better. They can’t be too hard on us for all that. Anyway, that would be lots be
tter than the alternative.”
“And what is the alternative?” asked Dr. Bashir suspiciously.
Nog looked at Jake. Jake grinned. “The alternative,” he said, “would be that we tell everyone on Deep Space Nine how we went on a spy mission with the Space Falcon.”
Dr. Bashir’s tan face grew very red. “You—you heard that?” he asked.
“Every word,” Nog said.
After a moment the doctor gave a deep sigh. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll promise this much, at least: I’ll stress how much you boys helped me if you forget the Space Falcon ever existed.”
“It’s a deal,” said Nog.
Jake relaxed. In the viewscreen Deep Space Nine was visible in the distance, its strangely shaped bulk dark against the velvet blackness of space, but spangled over with lights. Jake watched it with mixed feelings. He had wanted some time on a planet, and he had managed to get some—even if it was not what he had expected. Now, though, he was returning to Deep Space Nine, and he felt a strange sort of comfort in the thought. He and his father were people of Earth, but now they lived out here, among the stars.
And Jake was going home.
About the Author
BRAD STRICKLAND has been writing science fiction and fantasy since 1982. He has published eight novels alone and two in collaboration with John Bellairs. He is the author of Deep Space Nine: #1 THE STAR GHOST. In everyday life, Brad teaches English at Gainesville College and lives in Oakwood, Georgia, with his wife, Barbara; their son, Jonathan; their daughter, Amy; a huge white rabbit; one small dog; one large dog; six cats; and an iguana. Although Brad is a big science fiction fan, he thinks that none of the inhabitants of his house are aliens, with the possible exception of two of the cats.
About the Illustrator
TODD CAMERON HAMILTON is a self-taught artist who has resided all his life in Chicago, Illinois. He has been a professional illustrator for the past ten years, specializing in fantasy, science fiction, and horror. His original works grace many private and corporate collections. He has co-authored two novels and several short stories. When not drawing, painting, or writing, his interests include metalsmithing, puppetry, and teaching.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #2: Stowaways Page 8