“How long?” she repeated. “Seven lifetimes’ worth, before this.” Ezri placed her hand on her chest, backing into the mouth of the cell corridor. “Tobin, Emony, Audrid, Torias, Joran, Curzon, Jadzia…All of us defied you in our own ways, and we made sure you arrogant fools never knew it.” Suddenly, Ezri felt impossibly old, her bones heavy with the weight of years, the mercy and the warmth of her young soul bled out by Dax’s centuries of suffering, of oppression. “Come and kill me if you can, augment. I outlived your mongrel Khan. I will outlive you.”
That was enough. O’Brien flew at her, leading with the blade, sweeping it through the air in rolling loops. Dax defied logic and threw herself at him, diving inside his guard and snatching at the middle of the bat’leth. The cutting edge bit into her hands, but she used the pain as a spur, and struck out with all her might at the optio’s right knee.
Twelve years earlier, on a punitive mission to wipe out a Cardassian colony on Setlik III, Miles O’Brien had been stabbed in that knee by an enemy combatant. The wound had healed, but secondary infection had set in and the joint had never truly been the same. Dax knew this because Jadzia had known it, because Jadzia had been a nondescript medical helot aboard the battleship Phoenix, where O’Brien had been assigned at the time.
The line of the old wound sent a bolt of agony into the optio’s body and his leg gave out, suddenly robbing him of his balance. Executing a perfect Mok’bara pivot—something that Curzon had been taught in his youth—Ezri let the man stumble and fall.
O’Brien collided with the force field across the door of a sealed cell and screamed as the energy field tore into every nerve in his body. He writhed, the bat’leth slipping from his fingers, orange sparks crawling across him. Dax retreated, clutching her cut palms.
After a long moment, the human fell away from the glowing partition and collapsed, wisps of thin white smoke issuing out from gaps in his armored suit.
Dax glanced up and met the gaze of a Bajoran man on the other side of the barrier. “They’re not so superior after all, are they?” he asked her.
Rain ran and hit the guard full in the back with all her momentum. His feet slipped and he tried to throw her off, but it was too late.
Gravity snared them both, and the guard went down with Robinson atop him, the man’s armor-clad form hitting the floor with a bone-shaking shock.
Rain fell off him and struck the deck plates. The guard made a strangled choking noise and was still. A puddle of red began to spread from underneath him.
From behind the shimmering barrier of light, the Cardassian man watched her. “Fell on his blade,” he said grimly. “It has a monomolecular edge. Slices through polycarbide plate like a knife through mapa bread.”
She nodded jerkily, the rage she had felt suddenly spent. The coppery smell of the blood touched her nostrils and she gagged.
Rain heard someone cry out, but the sound seemed foggy and indistinct. She found it difficult to look away from the dead man.
7
Ezri worked quickly, the lowing siren urging her on like the ticks of a clock in the back of her thoughts. First, she opened the panels hiding the main cable trunking that served the detention level’s secure doors, and tore out everything that could make them work. Her timing was impeccable; no sooner had she done it than the sound of angry thuds from the other side became audible. Squad Leader Tiber and his men, she guessed. It wouldn’t take long before they went to the nearby armory for a beam cutter. Time is against us.
Using the dermal key implanted in the meat of the Tiejun woman’s thumb, Dax deactivated the lockdown and opened all the containment cells at once. A handful of Bajorans and Cardassians stumbled out into the corridor, their body language betraying a mixture of elation, anger, and despair. She saw Kira give the corpse of a fallen guard a swift, brutal kick; and nearby there was Rain, bent over. Dukat was crouching by her side, talking in soft tones.
She went on with her work, reaching into the guts of the control console bifurcated by the wild blow of O’Brien’s bat’leth. The thug’s error had an unexpected benefit; part of the command circuitry he’d smashed controlled the anesthezine nozzles in the ceiling. Unless Tiber found a way to patch the system—which was possible, she had to admit—at least for the moment they were free to move around without fear of being gassed into unconsciousness.
Taking up the Klingon blade, Dax systematically beheaded every sensor cluster in the room. One of Dukat’s people, the woman Ocett, stalked toward her as she finished, giving O’Brien’s supine form an arch look.
“Huh. Couldn’t you have saved one for us?” She eyed the diminutive Trill. “I saw what you did. Impressive, for a woman of your body mass.”
“I have had a lot of time to practice,” Erzi returned.
“Can we save the back-slapping for later?” Kira bit out, approaching them. She had the dead guard’s phaser pistol in her hand, adjusting the energy setting. “Not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, but it’s an empty gesture if we don’t get out of here.”
Dax bristled at the Bajoran woman’s tone. “You appreciate it? Do you have any idea of what I have just done, Nerys? Centuries of work building an airtight deep-cover persona, burned just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Just to get you and your ragged band out of holding.”
Kira shook her head. “Don’t pretend you did this for us.” She looked back down the corridor to where Rain and Dukat were standing. “You’re here for her.”
Another Bajoran, an older man with a scarred cheek, gestured around. “We need to get back to the Meru, light out of here.”
“Your ship?” said Dax. “It is wreckage now. They stripped it and blew it apart.”
“For fire’s sake!” he spat. “Then how the kosst are we going to get away?”
“Don’t panic, Mace,” Ocett said to him. “We’ll take this vessel instead.”
The man made a scornful face. “A bunch of beaten rebels against a full crew of ubers? I know you Cardassians have a death wish, but you can forget about dragging the rest of us along for the ride. I’ll go to the Prophets in my own good time, thanks.”
Kira’s eyes never left Ezri’s. “Dax has a plan. She always does.”
“That is right,” admitted the Trill, as Robinson walked un-steadily toward them, helped by Dukat. “Rain here is going to give us a lift.”
“What?” said the human. She was pale and shaky. Dax found herself wondering just how the other guard had been dealt with. Did she kill him? She doesn’t seem capable of something like that.
“I take it back.” The look on Kira’s face was a mix of shock and fury. “Are you making a joke? You’re proposing we flee aboard a ship that’s almost as old as your symbiont? An unarmed sublight barge with no phasers or shields? Why don’t we just open our throats now and be done with it?”
“Botany Bay has been fitted with a warp-sled,” Ezri corrected firmly, “with a navigational deflector and integrity field generators. It is now FTL-capable.”
“And that makes it a match for the Defiance, does it?” growled Mace. “I’m starting to wish you had left us in the cells!”
“Focus,” said Dukat, his voice cutting through the tension. “If Dax says that she has an escape route for us, then she does. I trust her.”
“Even after she got us captured?” snapped the Bajoran man.
“Our capture wasn’t her fault.” Dukat stepped closer to Kira, and in a strangely tender moment amid all the stress, he kissed her gently. “It was mine,” he finished, looking at the deck.
“Skrain’s right,” said Ocett. “We’ve got to concentrate. What’s our next move?”
Dax had them remove another set of panels from the bulkhead at the far end of the corridor. “There is a maintenance crawlway in here. I set a worm program running to release the hatch bolts. We can access the Gomez tubes and move down-ship, straight to the engineering tiers.”
“Better hurry,” added Kira, shooting a look toward the main hatch behind the
m. Fists of bright white sparks were flaring from the edges of the heavy door. “They’re cutting their way in.”
“How are we going to get to the other ship?” asked Mace.
“Are you gonna use that beamer thing?” Rain looked queasy as she asked the question.
“Teleport,” said Dax, “yes. But there are a few things we need to take care of before we leave.” She placed a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “I need you to keep yourself together for me. Can you do that?”
Robinson’s eyes flicked in the direction of the dead man.
“Rain, you only did what you had to, to survive.” Dukat spoke in a careful, soothing tone. “Now you have to help us do the same.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“What is going on?” demanded the Third Khan. “Bashir! Answer me!”
Julian tapped his communication headset, ignoring the order. “Command deck, Princeps. Status report!”
“Security alert on the detention tier,” said Jacob. “Sir, there appears to have been weapons fire. Monitors are down and the hatchway is sealed. Squad Leader Tiber is attempting to gain entry.”
Tiberius Sejanus Singh’s eyes widened with annoyance at the adjutant’s words, but Bashir focused on the moment, not on the fury of a man half a galaxy away. “Gas the cells,” he ordered.
“Unable to comply, lord. The system has been disengaged.”
Julian’s face twisted. “Who did this? Show me the playback from the monitor feeds!”
“As you wish.”
A pane of phantom glass appeared in midair, wavering to become a distorted fish-eye screen displaying the anteroom of the security chamber. Bashir felt his stomach twist and knot as the images played out. He let out a gasp as Dax murdered the duty officer. Ezri? It wasn’t possible…
“Off,” he snapped. “Off!” The screen obediently vanished.
“It appears one of your helots is a turncoat and a terrorist.” Ice formed on the Khan’s pronouncement. “This matter will be dealt with, and you will have a full accounting by the time the Illustrious arrives, if you wish to see Earth again!” Before the princeps could respond, the hologram guttered out and vanished.
Julian stood there for a long moment, his mind churning with hard, razor-edged questions. He absently fingered the dominae key in his pocket, wondering at his own mistakes.
Shaun knew their time was up when Amoros arrived on F Deck with Warren and Laker a few steps behind. The expression on the doctor’s face was like something carved from granite—hard and uncompromising. They’d found Tomino on the way and given him the nod, telling him to quietly make his way to the bridge, while Christopher and O’Donnel had been trying to work toward the weapons locker. Amoros’s appearance put an end to that.
The doctor strode across to the armored guardsmen and spoke urgently to them in low tones. Rudy threw him a look that asked What’s the problem? and in return, Shaun shook his head slightly. At Laker’s side, Reggie Warren stiffened. The guy was ex-USAF, like Christopher, and both men shared the same kind of situational awareness that applied in face-to-face confrontations as much as it did in aerial dogfights. Warrern moved as though he knew something was going to kick off.
Amoros turned and looked Shaun right in the eye. “There is a medical emergency aboard the Defiance that requires my immediate presence,” he said, and Christopher smelled the lie in there. “I am returning to the vessel immediately.” Amoros inclined his head toward the guards. “These men will remain here.”
“What about the cryo-systems?” O’Donnel feigned interest in one of the consoles. “Are we waking up anyone else or not?”
The doctor gave Shannon a severe look. “That would be ill-advised. This ship has been through an ordeal. It would not be a good idea to tax its systems further.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but Amoros tapped his headset. “Defiance, transfer,” he said, and with a flash of energy, the man dematerialized.
“Holy cow,” said Laker, his eyes wide. “Did you see that?”
Christopher ignored him, trying not to wonder what else the matter transport device could do. He was watching one of the troopers. The big man’s head was cocked slightly; he was listening to a radio signal over his headset.
“The situation has changed,” the man said abruptly. He addressed Shaun. “Assemble your crew on the recreation deck.”
“What’s going on?” Christopher asked.
“Do it now,” the guard told him, and his hand dropped to his pistol. “That is an order.”
Warren stepped out, putting himself between the captain and the two guards. “Who the hell do you think you are, buddy? You think you can come in here and throw your damn weight around? I’m getting pretty sick of your attitude.” He advanced a step.
Shaun saw Laker’s eyes flick to the doorway behind the two men and then away again. Someone behind them. Hachi? Who else could it be? He realized that Reggie must have spotted Tomino too, and guessed the way the situation aboard Botany Bay was going; his sudden burst of argument was a distraction. Christopher smiled inwardly. Warren caught on quick; that was one of the things he liked about the guy.
“Why don’t you boys just step off?” Warren was saying, putting a little swagger into his step.
But the trooper’s tolerance snapped and his hand came up, as fast as a striking cobra, with the blunt shape of his weapon there in his fist. “You speak to me that way once more, Basic, and I will put you down.”
“Basic?” Laker echoed. “What the heck does that mean?”
“It is what you are,” sneered the other man, the taller of the two. “Weak. Useless. Primitive.”
“Back on the block, I kicked a guy’s ass for less than that—” Warren retorted, and at the same moment Christopher saw a flash of motion. Hachirota plunged into the room, swinging an emergency fire extinguisher with all of his might.
He connected with the taller guard, but the man shook off an impact that would have put down a normal person as if it had been a love tap. His armed companion didn’t hesitate; a line of orangered lightning stabbed out and struck Reggie Warren point-blank in the sternum, the shock of the blast knocking him down.
Everything happened at once. He heard Rudy cry out Reggie’s name in astonishment. He was dimly aware of Shannon diving over the console to come to Hachirota’s aid. Shaun went in on automatic pilot, swinging hard to plant a punch in the gunman’s throat. He got a reaction, but not the one he had hoped for.
The pistol came down toward him and the butt struck his shoulder; a hair to the right and his clavicle would have snapped beneath the impact. His previous words about the odds of their opposition against Bashir’s men resonated in his skull; each one of them as tough as five of us. Or maybe it was just the sound of his teeth rattling as the trooper cuffed him brutally across the head.
Christopher felt the air rush out of his lungs in a gust of breath as the man slammed him bodily into a control panel. Dials and switches broke against his back. His feet had left the ground somewhere along the way. He threw chopping blows at the trooper’s exposed neck, but he couldn’t tell if he was doing any good.
His opponent was still holding on to the ray gun. Why doesn’t he just shoot me? The question pressed itself to the front of his brain, and the answer followed quickly, as he saw the feral grin on the trooper’s lips. Because he’s enjoying this, that’s why.
Dax knew the route without needing to think about it. Navigating the interior of the Defiance’s maintenance tubes was a skill she had perfected within weeks of being assigned aboard the ship; part of her mission remit had been to plant listening devices and gather intelligence about this class of Khanate starships, and in the process she’d learned the layout by rote. The escapees—Ezri and Rain, Dukat and Kira and the others—were a ragged bunch. Dax was already aware that some were flagging, still suffering the effects of harsh interrogations at the hands of the ubers.
She kicked out a vent, and one by one they dropped into an auxiliary cargo store two ti
ers down from the detention level. The sound of the alert sirens was clear through the hatch.
“We need more weapons.” Ocett pawed through the containers around them, searching for something she could use to do damage. The only pistols they had were in Dukat’s and Kira’s hands.
Dax went to the door controls and set to work on them. She had already surrendered O’Brien’s bat’leth to the scarred Bajoran, Mace. He stood across from her, his ear pressed to the duranium hatch.
“What happens now?” asked Rain, kneading her hands.
“We are on the central engineering deck,” explained Ezri. “We will need to break into two groups and hobble the ship before we go any further.”
“How can we do that?” asked one of the other Cardassians.
“The warp core,” said Dukat, catching on. “If we can disable it…the Defiance would be unable to go to lightspeed.”
Dax nodded. “Exactly. The hard part is going to be getting to it.”
Mace held up his hand in warning, his ear pressed to the duranium hatch. “Someone’s coming!”
“Hide!” snapped Kira, and the group went for what little cover there was behind cargo drums and support pillars. Dax dropped down low, beneath eye level, as Mace pulled the Klingon blade to his chest and tucked into the lee of the hatchway.
The door retracted, and Ezri caught the last part of a conversation.
“Just get it done,” said an angry voice, retreating down the corridor outside. Sisko, thought Dax, Bashir’s adjutant. “The Trill did something to the internal sensors. They take priority.” The threat of punishment hung silently on the words.
“Yes, lord,” came the brusque reply, as a blue-skinned figure entered the compartment.
The hatch was barely closed behind Rel sh’Zenne when Mace came out of the shadows, sweeping the bat’leth at the Andorian’s throat.
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