And then Riker had simply nodded, offered his thanks to the crew, and walked off the bridge into the turbolift. Dax knew she wasn’t alone in wondering for a moment whether applause was appropriate.
Now, in her quarters for what they were calling late supper, Dax sat with Bowers and Kedair, marveling over it all again.
“That was the most amazing display I’ve ever seen,” Bowers said. “Riker was computing angles of attack in his head—without a computer, just the viewscreen. That was all dead reckoning.” He shook his head as he stirred his stew. “Astounding.”
“I’ll tell you what’s astounding,” Kedair said, pushing away an empty bowl. “They’ve put together the battle damage assessment. I don’t think the Breen suffered a single casualty. Not on the station, not on the ships. Captain, every shot he called, every torpedo you placed, was targeted perfectly to disable.”
“I was only able to do my part because you all kept the Breen from shooting at us.” Dax raised her mug in a toast. “That’s the way to run hostilities. Nobody gets hurt.”
Bowers didn’t lift his glass. Staring into his bowl, he stirred it idly. “We’re still running silent?”
“Until further orders.” Dax studied him. “What’s up, Sam?”
“I tell you, I’m torn. Riker is magical—but I live by the book. And we are off into some things that aren’t even in the appendices.”
Kedair nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah, this is new territory. We’re turning into a one-ship wrecking crew. And all while we can’t call home. I know it needs to be done—but it’s definitely different.”
Dax took a deep breath. She’d had the same reservations—but there simply hadn’t been time to voice them. There had been too much to do, too few moments to reflect. She studied Bowers. “Sam, what are you worried about? Really?”
Aventine’s first officer looked around—a needless act in Dax’s quarters—before pushing aside his unfinished bowl and leaning across the table. “I’m worried,” he said in low tones, “about being in a Maxwell incident.”
“Oh,” Dax said, nodding with understanding. Starfleet officers didn’t talk much about Benjamin Maxwell, the battle-damaged captain aboard Phoenix who had tried to start a war with the Cardassians. Some instructors at Starfleet Academy might tell the story as a cautionary tale, but others avoided it. Either they felt the stain on the service it represented was too great, or they feared giving new recruits any ideas. Whatever it was, the name Maxwell was never invoked lightly.
“Look, you know I think Riker is a fine officer,” he said. “You remember the day I met him—there on Enterprise during the Borg Invasion, when he’d been forced to leave his away team, including his wife and Commander Vale, behind. And he was going ahead with everything, doing his duty. I admire the hell out of that. And what we’ve been doing doesn’t fit the pattern of someone spreading wanton destruction around.”
“It sure doesn’t,” Kedair said, a little offended. “We wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
“Precisely,” Bowers said. “We’ve been given the exact information we need to get us to go along with this.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Kedair asked.
Dax caught his drift. “Exactly that. We’ve been given the exact information we need to get us to go along with this—and that’s the problem. You’re worried that Riker is playing us, Sam? Sending us off on something unauthorized?”
Bowers blinked, his face fraught with guilt over having even suggested the notion. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just tired.”
“No, let’s just think it through,” Dax said. After the business with Federation President Ishan, a little paranoia was occasionally helpful. “We know the orders were good. Akaar’s imprint was on the documents I read. And I can’t imagine how he’d know about the Breen array without some input from Starfleet Intelligence. That thing wasn’t on any chart we’ve ever seen.”
“I know.” Bowers pushed his chair away from the table and sat back in it, hand covering his chin as he thought. “Is it odd that the second staging area we went to—the one we retreated to after the raid into Kinshaya space—was ideally positioned as a jumping-off point for going after the Breen?”
“No. Admiral Riker knew the Breen might be next. That’s just good planning.”
“Good planning, yeah.” He looked to Kedair. “Where’d he take us to? Where are we now?”
The Takaran looked out the ports at the motionless stars. “Just outside the Romulan Neutral Zone, in Federation space. Nearest thing’s a Ferengi commercial station, a million kilometers away. It’s light years to anything remotely hostile.”
“Not exactly poised on the enemy’s doorstep,” Dax said. “Admiral Riker was given a covert mission, and he’s handled it like any of us would.” Better, she thought. She started to rise. “What this crew needs is some rest. We’re fighting this thing we can’t see, this Takedown—and we’re jumping at shadows.”
Bowers nodded. “I think that’s the problem. The enemy has no face. I never like that.”
Dax was gathering her dishes when her combadge chirruped. “Dax.”
“Captain, we have a problem,” Riker said. “Meet me in the observation lounge with your senior officers.”
“Understood.” Dax gave the others a tired look. “I’m thinking of throwing this damn combadge away.”
Fourteen
AVENTINE
NEAR FERENGI STATION 71
Takedown, Dax now thought, could well refer to a Typhon Pact plan to cause Aventine’s senior officers to collapse from exhaustion.
Sitting at the table in the observation lounge, she could already tell what her officers were thinking. We’ve been here before. Another secret mission from the admiral, another raid that had to be thrown together while they were under way. Which unlucky Typhon power would the spinning dabo wheel stop on this time? The Romulans? The Gorn?
The truth was something else.
“You want us to attack a Ferengi comm station?” Dax asked, flummoxed. “The Ferengi are signatories of the Khitomer Accords.”
“Yes,” Riker said. He pointed out the port to the cylindrical station, which somewhat recalled Ferengi ears with its two enormous transceiver arrays suspended on exterior vanes. Riker had asked Dax to move Aventine within visual distance of Ferengi Station 71 before the meeting.
But she didn’t know he had intended this. “They’re allies, Admiral. It’s why we allowed them to build this station in Federation space. It’s why they haven’t reacted to our approach.” That wasn’t entirely true, she knew; readings showed that the Ferengi who were staffing the station had been hailing them for some time. But Aventine only knew of the attempt to communicate, studiously avoiding receiving anything passively, per orders. And now her orders were to disable this station, too. “What’s the rationale?”
Riker looked tired of explaining—and tired in general. “I don’t know if we were too late with the Breen or the Kinshaya, or if Takedown was separately introduced to the Ferengi station’s systems. But it has been infected—and I have just been ordered to cut the place off before more damage is done.”
Bowers looked baffled. “How did they tell you? We’ve broken all contact with Command. Even your secure link.”
“I’ve received a coded message from Starfleet Intelligence. That’s all I can say.”
Dax and Bowers looked at each other. Did admirals have some secret communications system they all used?
Mikaela Leishman seemed unconvinced. “Begging the admiral’s pardon—but I don’t see how that’s possible. We’ve plugged up every system that could transmit or receive. How did you talk to Starfleet, sir?”
Steely eyes fixed on the engineer. “You don’t need to know,” Riker said, sternly.
Dax was bewildered. “No, sir, we do. Admiral, if you’ve got some kind of backchannel method you think is secure against Takedown, we’ve got some questions we need answered.”
He shook his head. “Be
cause of the dire circumstances, SI had to contact me. Top-secret protocol. We have our orders. This is wasting time.”
Dax and Bowers looked at each other. She read her first officer’s mood—and it matched hers. “Sir, I’m not going to just open fire. We’re here. They’re friendly. We could send over a team to—”
“That’s absolutely the wrong thing. Just contacting them—whether it’s by subspace or any part of the EM spectrum—puts Aventine’s systems at risk.”
“Then we fly a shuttle over and knock on the airlock door,” Bowers said. “Weren’t the Ferengi among the powers invited to the summit you were at? Aren’t they already aware of Takedown?”
“There’s a difference between being aware of it and grasping the seriousness of the threat,” Riker said. “The Federation’s experts were able to quickly confirm that the program was what we were told it was. I’m not as confident in the ability of the scientists on Ferenginar to do the same study as fast as we did.” He flexed his fingers. “And then I’m sure Starfleet Command wouldn’t want to spread the word that Takedown worked. I’ve told you how dangerous the knowledge of its mere existence is.”
Dax was thoroughly confused. “But if the Ferengi already know about it, we wouldn’t be compromising anything by talking to them about it. Would we?”
Now other voices spoke up—and over each other. Riker slapped his hand on the table, bringing an immediate stop to it. “Further discussion is not helpful. Communication disruption and hijacking—those tactics were once preparatory to invasion. Now they are the invasion. Time is short. We can’t control this forest fire without setting some burn zones of our own.”
But they’re not our zones to burn. Dax felt the room closing in. The table went silent, as all eyes went from the admiral to the captain. There was only one way out, she knew. She looked out the port to the Ferengi station, swallowed hard, and said what she had to say.
“Admiral, I deem that Aventine is out of contact with Starfleet Command in a circumstance in which she cannot act without clarified instructions. We—”
“You have those instructions, Captain. I got them—”
“—we will not execute this one order, judging it to be a violation of Article I of the Khitomer Accords. I deem our duty to keep to the article’s terms supersedes the admiral’s authority.” Her heart thumping, she looked at him. “With apologies, sir.”
Riker said nothing, dark eyebrows turned downward as he stared at her.
Well, there goes another career, Dax. Maybe next life.
Finally, he nodded. “It’s your ship. May I ask what you plan to do?”
She took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “We’re going to make for Starbase 23, continuing to operate under silent running. Once there, if their systems are secured against Takedown, I’ll consult with Admiral Akaar directly.” She looked at her officers. The confusion in their faces from earlier was gone, replaced by resolve. “I’m sorry, Admiral, this concerns the safety of the Federation and our allies, I have to get guidance on this.”
“That’s it, then.” He looked down at his padd—and Dax again noticed how physically drained Riker seemed. “You know, Ezri, I’m out on the same limb with the rest of you. You’re asking me to violate my orders—and potentially allow the Ferengi station to continue infecting other systems.”
Then we go over and get them to turn their array off, she wanted to say. But that battle had been fought. Instead, she looked down at the table. “I understand your situation, Admiral. Do what you feel is right, as far as disciplinary measures. But I can’t attack an ally, even to protect them from something. We’ve been lucky with our first two engagements that nobody got hurt.”
“Was it luck, or skill?” Riker asked, rising.
“You can’t always count on either working when you need them,” she said.
He walked to the door. “I’m going to my office. I’ll be in touch.”
The door shut behind him. A gloom hung over the room, and for more than a minute, nobody said anything.
“Well, here we are again,” Bowers said in low tones, almost as if he were worried the admiral could hear through the wall. “And once more, our last position was exactly where we needed to be for where we had to go next.”
“I know.” Dax didn’t need more convincing. “Doctor Tarses?”
Simon Tarses had been sitting at the end of the table, not taking part in the briefing. If Riker had noticed the ship’s chief medical officer in attendance, he had said nothing. But Dax wanted to know what Tarses thought, and he was senior staff.
“The admiral shows outward signs of physical exhaustion,” the doctor said. One quarter Romulan, the slender man templed his fingers before his chin as he spoke. “He doesn’t look as though he’s eaten in a while, and he’s taken no food from the replicators. But I sense a mind that is sharp. Extremely sharp, despite the circumstances and pressure.”
Dax looked to Hyatt, the counselor. “I concur,” Hyatt said. “He’s perfectly rational, as far as I can tell—and he seems to believe he’s doing the right thing.”
“That’s the problem.” Bowers, who had been staring numbly at the table, looked up. “They always think they’re doing the right thing.”
Her engineer had always been skeptical of Takedown—and Dax found Leishman solidly in the “something’s wrong” camp. “With our hands over our ears, we can only tell what the Ferengi station’s doing by looking at the secondary evidence. Energy output signatures, and so on. I don’t see a single thing showing that there’s any abnormal activity over there.”
Dax believed her. But it was important to press the matter. “Is there any way the admiral could see something that you can’t? Could he have some resource that we don’t?”
Leishman thought for a moment. “I’ve gotten reports that he’s been requisitioning equipment from engineering since he boarded. Small pieces, a really odd list.”
“And nobody asked why?”
“He’s an admiral. None of it could be used to build a handheld Takedown detector, if that’s what you mean. Or any secret method for calling Starfleet Command. I don’t know what he’s basing his claims about the Ferengi station on, but it’s not data.”
Quiet fell over the room. Kedair looked to the captain. “What do we do?”
“I said what we would do.”
“I mean,” the security chief said, “about Riker.”
Everyone at the table tensed when the Takaran asked that, but Dax waved it off. “There’s nothing to do. As long as he doesn’t try to take command, he can stay in his holo-office as long as he—”
She froze. “What is it?” Kedair asked.
Dax’s eyes locked on the Ferengi station outside the port. It and the shuttle docked with it appeared to drift across her field of view. She knew something else was happening. “We’re moving.”
Bowers nodded. “We’re at impulse.”
“Bridge,” Dax demanded, “why are we moving?”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Tharp sounded alarmed. “I was about to contact you!”
“Why are we moving?”
“My sensors say we’re not. But we’re moving. I can’t explain it—and we can’t shut the engines down.”
Everyone at the table stood at once. Kedair’s eyes widened. “It’s Takedown. Aventine is infected!”
Fifteen
ENTERPRISE
EPSILON OUTPOST 11
“I have it, Captain,” La Forge reported as he stood in the doorway of Enterprise’s ready room, looking out onto the bridge. The incredibly talented engineer had passed up on advancement so he could continue to serve under and learn from Picard. And he’d just spent hours working with his staff to set up the most basic of things: a simple person-to-person communication.
Hours of painstaking work had been required to coax Outpost 11’s lone salvageable long-range transceiver into service. La Forge gestured behind him to the computer on the ready room desk. “I don’t know how long the connection w
ill last, but I’ve got Starfleet Command.”
Picard stood from his command chair and gestured for Worf to follow him. Then he saw Dygan at ops. “Please join us,” he said. “You were on duty during the battle. Your observations would be helpful.”
The Cardassian looked a little surprised to be invited. “Aye, Captain.”
Picard knew Dygan had recently gone through a rough patch on a difficult covert assignment. The young Cardassian’s skills had helped resolve a matter of the highest importance, but Picard well knew that undercover work could take a toll. It was important to help officers adjust to regular duties. He led the two into the ready room and took a seat at his desk.
“This might be the most complicated connection I’ve ever had to route,” La Forge said as the others stood opposite their captain. “I heard from a Ferengi station that a lot of their links upstream to the Ferengi Alliance and Sector 001 aren’t functioning.” The engineer finished adjusting the computer on the desk. “I could only give you basic encryption. I think we may even be bouncing off an Orion casino or two.”
“Well done, Geordi,” Picard said. “Send our action report again.”
After a moment, La Forge indicated it had been sent.
The screen crackled, and the imposing form of Admiral Leonard James Akaar appeared. The grim-looking Capellan brightened marginally when he recognized who he was looking at. “Ah, Picard. They finally got you.”
“They actually missed,” Picard said, “but they weren’t shooting at us.”
“Missed? Picard, we’ve been trying to reach you since Outpost 11 went offline.”
Picard looked dour. “The station has been disabled, but there were no casualties. I’ve just sent you my report.”
Akaar appeared flustered. “The accounts are coming in from everywhere, Jean-Luc. Starfleet communications have been hit in surprise raids conducted by multiple parties.”
“It is war,” Worf said.
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