by Peter David
"You've right," he said. "The scoundrels! I should never have trusted that slimy Orion!"
"Too late for that now," Sisko told him.
"Activate the cloak," Quark advised. "Quickly!"
"Just what I was thinking," said his companion.
But before either of them could move, the Ferengi felt the deck lurch beneath his feet—once, twice, and then again. Groping wildly, he caught the edge of Sisko's chair and hung on for dear life.
Wrestling himself to his feet, he asked, "What was that?"
Sisko's frown was deeper than before. "They must have gotten their hands on a Romulan vessel or two," he noted, "because they knew just where to hit us. Our cloaking capability is shot to hell."
"But how did they know we could cloak?" Quark wondered.
"Apparently," Sisko said, "word gets around."
"Fantastic," the Ferengi moaned. "Then we're sunk, aren't we? I mean, there's no way we can outmaneuver so many of them."
Inexplicably, Sisko's features reorganized themselves into a smile. "I guess we'll see about that."
"What are you going to do?" Quark asked.
On the Laslapadil, Calculanthra grunted as he shifted his weight in the command seat. His hirelings moved here and there about the bridge, making adjustments at the raider's various tactical stations.
The viewscreen in front of him displayed the lonely figure of the human's ship as it accelerated in an effort to shake them. He laughed.
Perhaps needless to say, that effort would meet with failure. No ship in the quadrant could outrun an Orion raider—not even the Federation's Galaxy-class giants.
He had already knocked out the other ship's cloaking device with a few well-placed shots. Of course, that was before the Federation vessel could erect its tactical shields. It would be more difficult to knock out propulsion or weapons capabilities, now that its defenses were up.
But far from impossible, the Orion noted. In a matter of moments, he'd begin battering away at the vessel's engines. Nor would he stop until he'd blasted a hole in the Federation vessel's shields, exposing the ship's warp core to his fire.
And after that, he mused, he would erase the shame of his defeat by erasing the human and his companion from existence. They should have known better than to trust to his goodwill after making him lose face with his clan and his customers.
Unfortunately, killing them would not make anyone forget the incident. But it would ease his pain to know his antagonists were in worse shape than he was.
"Faster!" he bellowed, pounding on his armrest for effect.
His hirelings did their best to squeeze a bit more speed out of the raider, though it cost them power that would normally have gone to their shields.
Satisfied, Calculanthra nodded. It wouldn't be long now.
Suddenly the Federation vessel plummeted off their screen. As the Laslapadil's sensors made an adjustment to keep track of it, the Orion found himself looking at its underbelly instead of the photon spill from its warp nacelles.
"What's going on?" he roared.
One of Calculanthra's hirelings turned to him, surprise and trepidation mingled in his expression. "They're coming at us from below!" he yelled back.
Calculanthra cursed at the top of his lungs. He hadn't expected that his prey would double back on him. After all, most starships couldn't execute so tight an arc. Hell, they couldn't even come close.
But this one had.
"What are you doing?" Quark cried, clinging to the back of Sisko's seat.
"Teaching the Orions a lesson," the human replied. "Namely, that superior numbers are just one way to achieve a tactical advantage."
The Ferengi peered at the Defiant's main view-screen, where he saw the undersides of the Orion raiders looming closer and closer at an alarming rate of speed. Just as it looked as if they were going to plow into one, it sheared off—and nearly speared another one in its confusion.
Blanching, he turned to Sisko. "You want to get us killed?" he squealed.
The captain shot him a look. "I think you're confusing me with those other guys," he said. "The ones who are trying to blow us out of existence."
Setting his teeth, Quark watched as Sisko's fingers flew across his controls. Apparently he'd slaved all the ship's functions to this one location. And it was a good thing he had, considering how useless the Ferengi himself would have been in this situation.
Abruptly the viewscreen went ruby-red with several short devastating bursts of phaser fire. When the screen cleared, Quark could see that one of the Orions had been disabled, a huge gash in one of its flanks. But he only got a glimpse of it, because Captain Sisko was executing yet another dizzying maneuver.
One of the raiders shot toward them, looking for all the world as if it would hit them head-on—but they veered off at the last moment. There was a second prolonged display of lurid light, but the Ferengi couldn't tell if it found its target.
"Did we get him?" he asked.
The captain nodded. "We got him. Two down, two to go."
"Unless they just give up," Quark suggested hopefully.
"They won't," Sisko informed him, still very much intent on his controls. "They're Orions, remember? They don't know how to give up."
The words were barely out of his mouth when the deck leaped again beneath the Ferengi's feet. This time, he couldn't hang on to Sisko's chair. He lost his footing, went rolling head over heels. And by the time he stopped, he was lodged under the overhang of a perimeter station.
Strangely, however, his first thought wasn't for himself. It was for the human in command. Crawling out from under the perimeter station, he saw that Sisko had been thrown halfway out of the center seat.
And he was in pain. Great pain. His features were clenched like a fist, and there were traces of fresh blood around the rent in his uniform.
"Oh my," Quark said, frightened to find out how badly their ship had been damaged. "Oh my," he said again.
By the time he worked up the courage to approach the human, Sisko was already climbing back into his seat to survey the situation. A moment later, he eyed his control console. The Ferengi couldn't tell if it was the captain's pain or their prospects that made the man grimace like that.
"Did they incapacitate us?" he asked meekly, dreading the answer.
But it was better than he'd feared. Much better.
"We're all right," Sisko told him. "Just a few circuits off-line." He looked up at Quark. "The helm's no longer slaved to my control console, though." He licked his lips. "I need your help," he whispered.
The Ferengi recoiled. "My help? But—what can I do? You're the one with the combat experience."
The captain shook his head. "I can't be in two places at once," he insisted. "And you've never fired a phaser out in space. You're going to have to man the helm."
Quark was about to protest some more, but something on the viewscreen caught his eye. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that the two unscathed Orion ships were wheeling for a pass at them.
"All right," he said. "All right, already." Scampering for the helm station, he inserted himself behind the controls. "I'm here," he announced. "What do I do?"
"Head right for them," Sisko said. "Full impulse."
The Ferengi couldn't help seeing their death in that strategy—but there was no time to argue about it. He would just have to hope the captain's brains hadn't been scrambled in that last skirmish.
Biting his lip, he carried out the order. Unfortunately, the Orions seemed to have the same idea. Their ships grew bigger and bigger as they approached, until Quark wanted to dive for cover.
Then, when it seemed that a collision was unavoidable, the enemy lost his nerve. Both ships peeled away—and it proved their undoing.
The Ferengi saw two separate barrages of red phaser energy reach out and stab the Orions. Both, he knew right away, were knockout blows.
A moment later, the screen shifted to a rear view—and Quark was pleased to see his observation was right o
n the money. Their last two adversaries were coasting awkwardly, without photon trails. Somehow, Sisko had found their weak spots and exploited them simultaneously.
Quark turned to him. "Nice shooting."
"Thanks," Sisko said. With an effort, he got up and headed aft—no doubt, in search of a medkit. "Just do one more thing for me, will you?"
"What's that?" asked the Ferengi.
The captain winced. "Take us home."
CHAPTER
13
HALKARM HAD BEEN in Manimoujak's employ for a number of years. His assignment was a simple one—he did what Manimoujak told him to do, when he was told to do it. And he didn't stop doing it until he was finished.
If Manimoujak, for example, told him to club someone to death, Halkarm would pummel away until the victim stopped moving. It was no more involved than that. If Manimoujak told Halkarm to hold his breath until he passed out, Halkarm would suck in air and stand there until the world turned black around him and he crashed to the ground.
In this case, Manimoujak had told him one thing: guard the mountain pass and make sure no one got through. And that particularly applied to those damnable Bajoran women.
This, Halkarm was more than prepared to do. His blaster rifle was tucked securely under his arm, ready to be brought into play at a moment's notice.
He wasn't the only guard on duty, of course. Others studded strategic points along the way. But Halkarm considered himself the best and most single-minded, which—to be fair—he was.
He stood on the edge of a particularly narrow ledge. He had a clear view overlooking the path in front of him. To his back, there was a sheer drop. It was a good position to maintain, because he was unassailable from all sides except above, and above simply wasn't a possibility.
In order to get at him from that direction, one would have to climb up and over, scaling some incredibly treacherous terrain, then cling batlike to the side of the mountain with a deathly drop below. No, it was most definitely not a possibility.
All this went through Halkarm's mind, up until the moment he felt a trickle of pebbles falling down from overhead. He looked up just in time to see a pair of booted feet descending toward him at high speed.
Kira slammed into the giant of a guard, knocking him back and sending his blaster rifle clattering to the side. It did not, however, fall off the perch; it just skittered to the edge.
She scrambled to her feet on the narrow ledge just in time to face Halkarm. He came at her with a roar that seemed to shake the mountain around them.
"You shouldn't have come back!" he howled at her, and at the moment, Kira was hard-pressed to disagree.
Fortunately she was quicker than the guard. As he reached for her, she sidestepped his rush and kicked him square in the ribs. But her adversary didn't seem to register the impact. Instead he grabbed her by the upper arm with a grip that made a vise seem like a love squeeze.
Kira tried to kick him in the groin, but somehow missed by a significant couple of inches. Then he got a hold of her other arm as well. Lifting her above his head, he staggered over toward the brink of the cliff so he could pitch her off.
The major slammed a foot into the guard's face. He grunted but didn't drop her. She kicked a second and a third time, and finally he stumbled, releasing her.
But he had released her over the brink.
As Kira fell, she twisted in midair. Somehow, her desperate fingers caught the edge of the cliff. Her body swung down and slammed against it, and she gasped from the impact. Above her, the guard's nose was bleeding. He wiped the blood away as he stared down at the dangling woman.
Then he smiled savagely and brought his foot up—with the obvious intention of tromping down on her fingers, which would send her plummeting to her death.
"Next time you want to fight Halkarm," he said, "you better bring plenty of friends."
And then a rock the size of a fist hurtled down from above, smashing him just below the base of his skull. He staggered forward and tripped over one of Kira Nerys's wrists.
For a moment, the guard's arms pinwheeled, as if trying to grab a hold of the air itself. Whatever he thought he would accomplish, he wasn't successful. With a howl of indignation, he pitched forward.
Kira plastered herself against the cliffside as Halkarm tumbled over her and plummeted with a roar toward the base of the mountain. He struck the side a couple of times as he fell, then hit the ground with a sickening thud.
The major looked up as Ro and Varis descended to the outcropping from which she was dangling. Ro had a disruptor strapped to her belt.
"You certainly took your sweet time," Kira said, starting to reach up for Ro.
And then the rock crumbled beneath her, and Kira started to slip off. Ro's hand lashed out with lightning speed, snagging the major by the wrist just in time.
Kira's full weight was now being supported by the Maquis. For a fleeting second, her eyes met Ro's, and she saw the determination there. Her companion wasn't going to let her go—not for anything. Not even if the two of them tumbled to their deaths.
"Varis!" shouted the Maquis, and the tetrarch was immediately at her side, grabbing Kira's other wrist. The major tried to find purchase with the toes of her boots, but there was none. She was entirely dependent on her comrades as they pulled her to safety.
Once back on solid ground, Kira lay on her back for some moments, gasping. Then she pulled herself together and eyed Ro and Varis.
"Thank you," she said. "That was … appreciated." She glanced at the disruptor on Ro's belt. "Where did you get that?"
"Off the guard about twenty meters away. I didn't think he'd be needing it anymore."
Kira smiled grimly. "I'll say this for you, Ro. You may be obnoxious, but you're damned efficient."
"Thank you," said the Maquis. "Those are my two best qualities. Now … I think you said something about hidden entrances?"
"What do you mean, you can't raise them?" Manimoujak said angrily. He paced his monitor room. "Try again!"
Zeber tapped the comm controls for the umpteenth time. "Posts three, seven, and eight, report in!" He looked up at Manimoujak helplessly. "Still nothing, sir."
"Get posts one and two to find out what happened to the others!" Manimoujak railed. He continued to pace as Zeber endeavored to contact the other two posts. When he looked back at Manimoujak, it was not with a particularly happy expression.
"They're not answering, either."
Manimoujak couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "They were there a minute ago! Is the entire communications system crashing?"
"The comm system is fine, sir."
"Then what the hell is going on?!"
"I'll tell you!" came an angry pained voice. Manimoujak turned, saw who was speaking, and shrieked in alarm.
When the wall slid aside, Kira was the first one in. She looked right and left, and saw that the narrow corridor was clear. Then, waggling her finger behind her, she signaled for Ro and Varis to follow. All three of them moved silently, on the balls of their feet, poised and ready for anything.
There was a cross corridor up ahead, and they flattened against the wall. Kira poked her head around tentatively. Nothing. She started to move, Ro directly behind her, Varis bringing up the rear.
That's when Kira saw the knife out of the corner of her eye.
It was pinwheeling through the air, coming from farther down the passage that lay to their right. And it was heading straight at Ro.
In Kira's mind, the moment seemed to stretch out into infinity. Ro had not yet seen the knife, and she wasn't going to—at least, not in time. To the major, that was an utter certainty.
Kira lunged even as she shouted a warning, pushing Ro out of the way. Then she screeched as the knife buried itself in the fleshy part of her forearm. She went down, clutching at it and cursing inarticulately.
Varis gasped. Kira looked up and saw that the tetrarch was gazing down the corridor—in the direction from which the knife had come.
"Gnome!" Varis cried.
The major recognized the name. He was the one who had given the tetrarch the bad replicator supplies—the one who had aided in Varis's enslavement.
Gnome was charging toward them, a sneer on his lips and a phaser in his hand. He could have picked them off with the phaser, but he didn't. Kira sensed that he was after something else—vengeance maybe, judging by his sadistic expression.
He might have gotten what he wanted, too—except Ro yanked out her disruptor with a quickness that had to be seen to be believed and fired before Gnome could get off a shot.
The blast struck Gnome's hand, shattering the bones in it and knocking the weapon from his grasp. He went down shrieking and clutching at his ruined hand. Ro pounced on him, reversed the disruptor, and brought the butt down on the back of his head. The impact knocked him out cold.
Then she went back to Kira, who was lying there holding her arm. There was still a knife buried in it.
Through gritted teeth, the major said, "You're … quite a marksman."
"Not really," the Maquis replied. "I was aiming for his chest." She inspected the wound. "God, look at you. Next time, just shout a warning, okay?"
"Wasn't time," Kira told her. "Besides … now we're even … for your saving me on the cliffside."
Ro appeared to consider the notion. "Well, actually, since I nailed Gnome, that puts me one ahead."
Kira looked at her through eyes narrowed with pain. "Do you have any idea how annoying you are?"
"I've been informed of that, yes," Ro said. "And this is going to be even more annoying. Here, bite down on this." She shoved the gun butt between Kira's teeth. Then the Maquis looked up at Varis and said, "Hold her down."
As Varis moved around to Kira's uninjured shoulder and braced her, Ro tore a length of cloth off her shirt sleeve. Ro waited until Varis was in position, then looked down at Kira. The major nodded.
"By the way … thanks," Ro muttered, and then she slid the knife out of Kira's arm.
Kira's back arched as she sunk her teeth into the unyielding gun butt of the disruptor. Ro quickly tied off the wound. The cloth became blood-soaked in a matter of seconds, but it finally stanched the flow.