Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #1: The Star Ghost

by Brad Strickland

  “How?” Jake asked.

  In memory.

  “Oh.” In spite of his anxiety, exhaustion, and worry, Jake smiled. “I guess you will always be a part of me, too, Dhraako. I’11 never forget you.”

  This form is honored.

  “Yeah,” Jake said, a little embarrassed. “Well, so am I.”

  A bright blue light flashed silently on the top of the metal mushroom, and Dhraako leaned close to study it. Suddenly the Quester straightened, urgently fingering the speaker. The artificial voice again came out with an edge of distressed excitement: Jake Sisko! Dhraako’s computer has calculated the time the bomb device will explode! It will be very soon!

  “How soon?” Jake asked, fighting a wave of panic. “How long do we have?”

  The Quester moved its long, thin, bony fingers with lightning speed across the top of its display. Jake could see no letters or figures, and he heard no computer voice, but a bewildering constellation of colors flickered and flashed as light displays flared all over the surface of the mechanism. Some pulsed in frantic red, others twinkled from green to orange, and still others shone with combinations of blue or violet. Gripping the mechanism with one hand, the Quester fumbled for the speaker with the other. Jake Sisko! The bomb device will explode within three point five two of your minutes after the transporter activation!

  “Three and a half minutes!” Jake was stunned. What could he possibly do in so short a time? It was hopeless.

  The Dhraakellian was staring hard at Jake with those huge, glowing eyes. Jake Sisko! A chance of survival! Dhraako’s ship will take both of us to safety if we leave now! What is Jake Sisko’s decision?

  Jake thought of abandoning Deep Space Nine. He felt like crying. He still remembered how his mother had died in a savage attack by the mechanized Borg. Was his father doomed, too? And his friend Nog, and all the others aboard the station? “No,” he said. “Dhraako, save yourself if you can, but I—I have to be with my family and friends. No matter what happens.”

  After a moment the hooded head inclined in a graceful nod of assent. This form understands. Ready yourself, Jake Sisko. Time of transportation is very near.

  “Dhraako—just in case I—I don’t see you again, I want to thank you. For the help you’ve tried to give us.”

  The Quester’s head bowed. The voice from the speaker was slow, with perhaps a hint of sorrow. This form thanks Jake Sisko. Even if we both survive, this form can never see Jake Sisko again. Dhraako must leave Deep Space Nine.

  “Leave?” Jake asked. “Why?”

  The thin fingers moved over the crystal rods, and the voice explained: It is against the wishes of the Whole that a Quester becomes known to those who are watched. It is only because of the great distance to the Whole that this form has been able to speak and act with Jake Sisko. This form must leave the station and seek other kinds of life elsewhere to observe. The head raised, and Jake thought he could see sorrow in the large red eyes. Dhraako will be forever mindful of Jake Sisko. Dhraako has learned much here of the concept of friendship.

  “You’ve been a friend to me,” Jake said. “To all of us. Thank you again.”

  The Quester straightened, all business, alert and tense. Ready now. Time is very near. Close eyes, Jake Sisko. Dhraako says farewell!

  Jake tapped his locator to send out a homing signal, then squeezed his eyes shut. This time the silent explosion of light was much more intense, and it lasted longer. He felt a prickle of heat all over his skin, and then the familiar tingle of the transporter beam. Then all was silence, darkness, and fear.

  “Do you have him?” asked Sisko, his voice shaking with emotion.

  Behind the transporter controls, Chief O’Brien sweated. “I’ve got something,” he said. “I’m picking up a faint locator signal. This is difficult. It’s like an attempt to transport at extreme range. I’m boosting the gain now.”

  “Is it Jake?” Nog asked.

  “Losing the signal,” O’Brien said. “Hang on. I’m going to match the pattern with Jake’s. He’s used this transporter before, so his body pattern should be in the buffer. If I can hold this one until I retrieve Jake’s, I can use it to amplify—there! Got it.” O’Brien’s big but surprisingly delicate hands flew over the controls, adjusting, coaxing, trying to drag the pattern out of thin air and into reality. At last the big Irishman looked up with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Yes, it’s Jake! Hold on, lad—here goes nothing.”

  The transporter pads pulsated with strong surges of power. A glittering pattern began to form, faded, came back again more strongly, and then shaped itself into a sparkling human outline. “Got him!” O’Brien yelled, and a second later Jake Sisko stood swaying on the pad, looking out at them with wide, dark eyes.

  “Son!” Sisko shouted, stepping forward with his arms outspread. “Where in the galaxy have you—”

  “No time!” Jake said. “Chief O’Brien, check the sensors for a mass of dense material just above one of the dead reactors. The Cardassians left a bomb there—and it’s about to explode!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Where?” demanded Chief O’Brien. “I can’t find it, Jake, if you can’t point out exactly where I have to look.”

  Jake studied the hologram of Deep Space Nine with desperate attention. He knew roughly where the bomb had been placed—but roughly was not good enough. O’Brien did not have time for a full scan of the fusion reactors, and anyway, the radiation would make precise readings difficult. The holographic model of the station floated right before Jake’s eyes, but he was having trouble finding the precise spot where Dhraako had showed him the bomb. “It looks different,” he said. “How much time’s left?”

  “Only a minute and a half,” Nog said. “Quick, Jake. How can we help?”

  “It looks so different this way,” complained Jake. He felt grimy and dizzy from lack of sleep. His eyes burned. If only he could see the station the way he had while in Dhraako’s dimension, he thought—yes, that was it! To O’Brien, Jake said, “Can you make the hologram more transparent? So that I can see through the plates and things?”

  “Right away,” O’Brien said. He adjusted the hologram. It faded until it was like a model made of glass.

  Jake bent in for a close look. Yes, that was it. He traced a cooling pipe with his finger and then pointed dramatically. “Right there!” he said. “It’s a group of five spheres, clustered right around this pipe.”

  “Scan that area,” ordered Sisko.

  “Right away, sir,” said O’Brien. He directed the scan from the transporter station. Grimacing in concentration, O’Brien said, “Nothing … nothing … no, here it is! Five foreign bodies, just where Jake said.”

  Sisko was sweating. He wiped his face with his palm and said, “Chief, is there anything you can do to disarm the bomb?”

  “Half a minute!” Nog said.

  O’Brien shook his head. “Negative. But I can lock on with the transporter controls. With that much mass, the transporter won’t be able to fling it far, but maybe a few thousand kilometers will be enough.” He manipulated the transporter board. “I’m putting all available power into this,” he warned. “Here goes!”

  The transporter hummed. Sisko tapped his communicator. “Ops, put the Cardassian ship on the screen,” he said. “I want to see their reaction if we pull this off. Prepare to raise shields on my order.” Just then the lights dimmed and faded, and even the artificial gravity lessened. Jake felt strange, as if his weight had suddenly decreased by half.

  “It’s away!” O’Brien yelled as normal power returned.

  The auxiliary screen came to life, showing the Cardassian ship waiting in space. Almost at once, halfway between the station and the Cardassian vessel, a searing burst of energy appeared, like a white-hot new star close by. “Raise shields!” ordered Sisko. Jake watched as a red, spherical shock wave expanded from the blast. It came closer and closer—

  “Shields up,” reported Major Kira’s voice.

  The shock wave hit. T
he lights dimmed again, and the screen dissolved into ionic static. Then, after an anxious moment, the screen wavered back to life, the lights came up, and everyone exhaled. “We’re still here,” said Sisko. “Major Kira, scan the Cardassian ship.”

  “Scanning … Commander, they’ve taken shock damage to their central power controls. The ship cannot raise its shields or go to warp speed. Wait … Chok has engaged his impulse engines. I think he’s trying to run away.”

  Sisko nodded and said, “Major, dispatch two runabouts to intercept that vessel. Arrest Chok and his crew on Starfleet authority.”

  Even if he had not already known how much Major Kira despised the Cardassians, Jake could have guessed it from the satisfaction in her voice: “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  Sisko turned to Nog. “You were a great help,” he said. “I won’t forget that.”

  “Then tell my uncle not to punish me,” Nog replied. “That would be the best way of not forgetting!”

  With a grin, Sisko said, “I’ll make it an order.”

  Feeling like a wet rag, Jake slumped against a bulkhead. “I’m glad that’s over,” he mumbled.

  Sisko put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Thank you, son. But you had me worried sick. What in the world happened to you? Where did you go?”

  “Dad,” pleaded Jake, “I want to tell you the whole story. But first, may I go to bed? Please?”

  “I think we’ve both had a long day,” Sisko said. “Go straight to our quarters. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Somehow or other Jake staggered all the way to his room without collapsing from sheer exhaustion. He fell into bed fully clothed, and he was asleep before he hit the mattress.

  His father let him sleep until noon. Finally Sisko woke his son with a breakfast tray of toast, scrambled eggs, and orange juice. Jake munched away happily. After breakfast he took a quick shower and dressed in clean clothes. Then he joined his father in their living room. “What happened after I fell asleep?” he asked.

  Sisko grinned at him. “You missed an exciting chase. Chok tried to outrun two Federation runabouts, but he couldn’t. Then he threatened to open fire. That was a bluff. Chok hadn’t been able to repair his shields, and firing without shields would have been suicide. In the end the Cardassians gave up.”

  “Dad, I don’t understand. If Chok wanted to use Deep Space Nine for storage, why did he have his crew activate the bomb?”

  Sisko gave him a grim smile. “Odo and I have talked about that. All that business about storing ores was a lie. You see, back when the Cardassians abandoned Deep Space Nine, Chok wanted to destroy it instead of turning it over to us. He set up the bomb, but for some reason he couldn’t activate it. Odo’s guess is that Starfleet arrived a little too soon for him.”

  Jake frowned. “So he made up the story about storing ores to come back and start the bomb. But why would he want to destroy the station now?” he asked.

  Sisko replied, “Odo’s theory is that Chok wanted to seize control of the Bajoran Wormhole. It’s the most valuable resource in this quadrant, you know. First, Chok would blow up Deep Space Nine. Then he would call other Cardassian ships here—and by the time Starfleet could arrive, the Cardassians would have fortified their position. Since Chok failed, the Cardassian government would never admit to being involved in such an illegal plan, but Odo thinks they probably had some idea of what Chok was up to.”

  “What’s going to happen to Chok and his crew?” asked Jake.

  “A Federation trial,” his father said firmly. “This morning I’ve been in touch with the Cardassian High Command. They claim Chok was a criminal, acting on his own.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  Sisko shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that since the Cardassians disown Chok’s crew, there won’t be an interstellar incident when the Federation tries them for terrorism.”

  Jake asked, “What happens if they’re found guilty?”

  “Well, the penalties for terrorism are strict,” Sisko said. “They’d be sent to a rehabilitation facility—but since even the other Federation prisoners would hate the Cardassians, life would be chancy for them. I think it’s more likely, though, that the Federation will turn them over to the Cardassians. You see, we believe the Cardassians still hold a number of Bajoran prisoners. If they really do, we can make some kind of prisoner swap. We’ll give them their people back in exchange for the Bajorans.”

  “But, Dad—Chok tried to kill us,” objected Jake. “It doesn’t seem right that we should just hand him back.”

  Sisko’s smile became grim. “Don’t worry, Jake. Cardassians do not deal with their own kind lightly—especially if the prisoners have failed in an action against an enemy.” He got up and stretched. “I’ve asked some friends to come to Ops a little later today. We all want to hear your whole story.”

  “I don’t know whether you’ll believe it or not,” Jake told his father. “But I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

  And in Ops a couple of hours later, Jake told quite an audience the whole amazing story of Dhraako and of the strange half existence he had led aboard Deep Space Nine. Keiko, Molly, O’Brien, Major Kira, Odo, Commander Sisko, Quark, and of course Nog listened to the whole tale. When she heard that Jake really had appeared to Molly, Keiko apologized for not believing her own daughter, but explained that she thought her husband had already spoken to Commander Sisko about Jake. She had assumed that the commander had found Jake safe and sound. Sisko wondered if there was any way of contacting Dhraako. “After all, we owe him our lives,” he said.

  “I don’t think we can, Dad,” Jake said. “He told me that Questers aren’t supposed to reveal themselves. Now that someone knows Dhraako is here, he will have to leave.”

  Suddenly Molly spoke up: “Dhraako said to tell you he would leave at six—sixteen hundred,” she said. “If you want to say good-bye.”

  Jake said, “Quick, Dad—what time is it?” They had a few minutes to spare. They all hurried to the large empty compartment that Dhraako had made headquarters ever since the building of Deep Space Nine. “Is he here?” asked Sisko.

  “I don’t see him,” a disappointed Jake replied. “Nog?”

  “No,” the young Ferengi said. He had dressed in his best clothes, with a splendid emerald and gold headband. “Molly, is Dhraako here?”

  “Right there, silly,” said Molly, pointing at thin air.

  “Dad, have the lights lowered,” Jake said.

  “Computer, decrease illumination,” Sisko ordered.

  As the lights went down, Jake grinned. There was the tall, shimmering figure, barely visible. The red-orange eyes showed as two soft gleams. “I see him.”

  “So do I,” said Nog. “Come to think of it, he doesn’t look like a Ferengest at all.”

  “I wish I knew what you were talking about,” grumbled Quark. “Idle chatter brings no profit, you know.”

  “I think I see,” Odo said. “A kind of faint mistiness.”

  Commander Sisko sighed. “I must be too old. He’s still invisible to me.” He turned to Molly. “Molly, please tell Dhraako that all of us are grateful for his help. He is welcome on our station any time he wishes to return.”

  Molly said, “He knows that. Now he’s saying good-bye.”

  Jake waved. So did Nog and Molly. With a grin Sisko did, too. After a moment even Odo, Kira, Keiko, O’Brien, and a very puzzled-looking Quark added their farewells.

  “Oh,” Molly said. “The table is opening up.”

  Jake turned his head and looked from the corners of his eyes. He could barely see the mushroom-shaped mechanism. It was unfolding, changing form. Now it encased the shape of Dhraako. It was so absurdly tiny—could it really be a starship?

  “There he goes!” yelled Molly.

  Jake blinked. He could not be sure, but he thought that the miniature ship had become a beam of energy and had zipped right through the wall.

  O’Brien had taken out a portable scanner. “Slight energ
y flux,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “He’s gone,” Nog said.

  With genuine regret Jake said, “Yeah. But I’ll never forget him.” He grinned at Nog. “You were really brave, do you know that? You thought I was a ghost, but you got over your fear and learned to communicate. That’s really what saved us all.”

  “There’s no profit in bravery,” muttered Nog, looking pleased but embarrassed. “Anyway, you were the one who had to figure everything out. In the end you and Dhraako saved us. I guess you protected us all. Jake Sisko, you were a real sheep!”

  “Huh?” Jake asked.

  “I’ll have to explain that some other time,” said Sisko, visibly fighting the urge to laugh.

  Deep Space Nine rotated in space, once again peaceful and secure. From a view port Jake stared at the gleaming, endless stars of deep space. He knew that the Dhraakellian Quester was probably millions of miles away, an invisible streak of energy speeding through the Galaxy. Maybe, Jake thought, Dhraako would be a little less lonely with the memory of one friend to keep him company. He hoped so. After a few moments he turned away from the view port and grinned at Nog. “Now,” said Jake, “what was that about sheep?”

  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. 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.