Strange New Worlds IX

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Louis watched curiously as three Jem’Hadar and two Breen left the room like they meant business. That left seven soldiers, plus the Vorta and himself in the room. The door closed and locked with a soft hiss-click and he watched the soldiers depart through the transparent aluminum panel. Louis knew he was still outnumbered; his dramatic escape would have to wait.

  After a seeming eternity, the Vorta turned his attention back to his prisoner as though the exchange with the Jem’Hadar had never occurred. “Tell me, Louis—may I call you Louis?—who is Sophie?”

  At the sound of his daughter’s name from the mouth of this vile creature, Louis felt the blood drain from his face and his arms go numb. And the only way he knew that his heart hadn’t stopped was the fact he was still somehow breathing. Images of Sophie being terrorized by Jem’Hadar soldiers flickered through his mind and he felt his tenuous control slip.

  “Don’t you hurt her!” he cried as he lunged toward the Vorta. It didn’t matter that he only had one leg and wouldn’t make it to the Vorta anyway. He just wanted to get his hands on the bastard and beat the amused expression off his face. But the Jem’Hadar stationed behind him had been ready for just such an attempt and held him back with a vise-like grip. He struggled uselessly, his strength waning once more as tears came to his eyes. “Don’t you dare!” he croaked.

  “Oh, I’m afraid it’s much too late for that, Louis,” the Vorta said with feigned regret. “I was just curious to know who she was.”

  Was? No, not his Sophie. No…the Vorta was baiting him again. That had to be it. It’s what people like him did. They toyed with the emotions of their prisoners to break them down. And it was working. The damnable Vorta was succeeding in that very thing.

  But deep down he knew it wasn’t true, couldn’t possibly be true. If the Vorta had somehow found out about Sophie and had done the unthinkable, had…killed her…how could they possibly expect him to cooperate? On the other hand, these people were vicious, brutal creatures. Who knew what they were capable of? They might have killed Sophie and were about to threaten to deliver the same fate to Patrice if he didn’t cooperate. He didn’t know what to think, and the uncertainty was draining his will.

  It was to his utter surprise that he suddenly heard himself begin to laugh. It wasn’t a very hearty laugh, more a soft chuckle, but it was certainly not the reaction the Vorta expected.

  The Vorta’s pasty brow furrowed and his head tilted sideways a little. “Have I said something amusing?”

  Louis shook his head, unable to bring words to his mouth amid the laughter and tears. He realized the Vorta couldn’t possibly have located Sophie and hurt her in so short a time. He’d probably found Sophie’s name among his files and went from there.

  “Stop that at once,” said the Vorta, who apparently didn’t like being laughed at.

  Louis let the chuckles bleed out of him and fell silent. He stared into the Vorta’s blue eyes and said the only thing that occurred to him. “You’re pathetic.”

  The Vorta was not amused. He glanced at the Jem’Hadar behind Louis and said, “Kill him.”

  Louis felt the soldier release his arm, heard him take a step back, heard the soft clicking of his pulse rifle. Louis closed his eyes, an image of Sophie on his eyelids, and waited for death to claim him.

  It never came.

  “//_|.!” the Breen commander blurted.

  An instant later, Louis heard the transparent panel in the wall shatter and the sound of phaser fire rent the air. One beam of orange energy struck the Breen in the throat and another hit the Vorta in the chest. The Jem’Hadar soldiers, including the one who had been about to kill him a moment ago, turned and charged the newcomers, battle cries erupting from their scaly lips and weapons brandished with barbaric enthusiasm.

  Louis dropped to the floor and crawled behind the table where the Vorta had fallen. He watched as a small group of Starfleet officers exchanged weapons fire and physical blows with the enemy soldiers. Soon, all of the Jem’Hadar and Breen lay dead on the floor, a smoky mist from destroyed consoles and panels drifting lazily in the air.

  “Louis!”

  Startled at the sound of his name, Louis realized that not only had these officers come looking for him specifically, but that he recognized the voice that had called out. With some effort, he raised himself to his knee, using the desk as support, and looked at the man at the center of the room. He was almost completely bald and held a phaser rifle at the ready. Louis could not believe his eyes.

  “Jean-Luc?” he asked as the man and the rest of his team turned to face Louis. “Is that really you?”

  Picard smiled and came toward him, but almost immediately his smile faltered. At the same instant, Louis heard movement behind him and turned to see the Vorta on his knees and aiming a phaser at the transparent barrier between the room and the ocean beyond.

  “No!” he cried.

  A moment later, a phaser beam struck the Vorta in the back and the alien dropped forward, but not before firing off a shot that struck the window near the upper frame. A visible crack emerged and began to grow steadily outward against the transparent surface.

  “Picard to Enterprise,” Jean-Luc said. There was no response that Louis could hear. “Everyone back to the transporter site,” he ordered before finally coming to his side.

  “It took you long enough,” Louis said weakly, unable to keep the smile from his face. He’d never been more happy to see his friend.

  Picard returned the smile. “We took the scenic route.”

  Louis nodded. “I don’t blame you. It is rather impressive, isn’t it?”

  “For now,” Picard said, then looked up sharply as a creaking groan issued from the splintering window. As he raced to undo Louis’s bonds, Picard’s expression faltered as he realized Louis was missing a leg. The hesitation was brief, but significant. “Are you in much pain?”

  “Some,” Louis said, and in truth the pain had dulled significantly. Whether this was because of his dulled senses or the fact the wound had been cauterized by a Jem’Hadar pulse rifle, he didn’t know.

  “All right, let’s go,” Picard said as he finished untying Louis’s arms. He hauled Louis to his remaining foot. “Lean on my shoulder, and we’ll do this together. Are you ready?”

  Louis nodded. “Ready.”

  Together, they headed back through the complex, Picard leading with Louis leaning over his shoulder and hopping next to him. Along the way, Louis felt a rush of satisfaction when he saw the bodies of the two Breen and three Jem’Hadar that had left the central hub some time ago.

  When they reached the atrium where Louis and his coworkers often ate meals and relaxed during breaks, they passed the central water fountain. Inwardly, Louis cursed the fountain, which continued to trickle peacefully as though this was just another day.

  A tremendous shudder shook the facility and a cool breeze blew in from the direction they had come. As Louis felt the transporter beam wrap itself around him, he swore he could smell the sudden scent of seawater.

  Louis awoke to the sight of a beautiful woman standing over him. She wore a Starfleet uniform and a blue medical smock, waves of strawberry blond hair cascading about her shoulders.

  “Hello,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m Doctor Crusher. You’re all right now.”

  “Where…Where am I?” Louis asked, taking in his new surroundings. The subdued lighting softened the grays and tans of the decor and put him at ease.

  “You’re on board the Enterprise, Louis,” the woman said. “You’re safe now.”

  Louis looked down and saw only one distinctive leg shape beneath the covers of his bed. The horrible memory of recent events flooded back to him, but he quickly shoved them aside. What’s done is done.

  “I was hoping it was all just a bad dream,” he said.

  Crusher gave him a sympathetic smile and tilted her head upwards a bit as she spoke. “Crusher to Picard.”

  Louis smiled at the sound of his friend’s name.
r />   “Go ahead, Doctor.”

  “My patient is awake,” she informed.

  “We’re on our way. Picard out.”

  We? Jean-Luc had probably located Patrice and brought her aboard as well. He could only hope that Sophie was with them too. As much as he hoped his theory about her was true, he knew it was possible it might not be so.

  “Don’t worry about your leg,” Crusher said, misinterpreting the expression on his face. “You’ll be fitted with a prosthetic as soon as possible. By the time you’re on your feet again, you’ll never know the difference.”

  Louis was sure that was the standard physician spiel, but even if it were true, no prosthetic limb, no matter how perfect, could ever make him forget how he lost the real one.

  “I’m sure these limb specialists are very busy these days, what with the war on,” Louis said.

  Crusher gave him a melancholy look. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  The soft hiss of a door opening drew Louis’s attention to the sickbay entrance. Picard stood in the doorway and gestured for someone unseen to enter. As expected, it was his wife. Patrice’s worry, joy, and relief revealed themselves in her sharp features. And right on her heels came his dear Sophie, alive and well and looking more beautiful than ever.

  “Sophie!” he blurted, a surge of joy and happiness swelling within him. He almost jumped out of bed before remembering he only had one leg. “You’re alive!”

  “Of course I’m alive, Father,” Sophie said with a soft laugh as they embraced tightly.

  “Oh, my darling daughter,” he said, stroking her hair, smelling her scent. “They told me you were dead, but I knew it was a lie. I knew it in my heart.”

  “It was, in fact, Sophie who brought to my attention the possibility you might be in trouble,” Picard said.

  Louis hugged Sophie again, then pulled Patrice into the embrace. He looked up at Picard. “Thank you, Jean-Luc. Thank you for this, and so much more.”

  “It was my pleasure, old friend.” Picard smiled, then he and Crusher moved off to allow them some privacy.

  Louis looked at the women in his life, then shook his head. “I feel like such an…ignorant, stupid man.”

  “Louis!” Patrice said sharply. “Whatever would make you say such a thing?”

  “I thought we would be safe at the bottom of the ocean. It was our own little world down there. The war was just something going on far away, out of reach,” he said, gesturing upward with a hand. “Even when we heard about the attack, it all just seemed so…distant. But it took the loss of a limb and hours of torture at the hands of the enemy for me to realize that no matter where the front lines are in a war, no place is ever really safe.”

  Patrice placed a hand on his own and squeezed tightly. “We will get through this, Louis. Together, as we always have.”

  “Together,” Sophie whispered, adding her hand to theirs.

  And in these, the worst of times, Louis had never been a happier man.

  Star Trek

  Deep Space Nine®

  Shadowed Allies

  Emily P. Bloch

  “Good morning.”

  He was anxious. She could always tell. He wanted to hear her voice, she knew, or watch her laugh, maybe suggest a dance before the ceremony. She knew he wanted to be with the woman he loved. But Kira Nerys was exhausted.

  “Mm,” she replied as Odo traced his fingers through her hair, “goo moring.”

  She knew he was smiling now, content and calm. But, Prophets, she would have five more minutes of sleep…except that then his fingers made contact with the back of her neck, his molecules rearranging from Bajoran to changeling. She froze.

  Oh no.

  The flesh that was cool as mountain lakes, soft as Tholian silk. The flesh that woke her up to everything.

  “I hate you,” she murmured, and he laughed.

  “Can I help myself from indulging in a little impatience every now and then?”

  “Impatience,” she purred, giving in to his electrifying touch. “No, Constable, it’s not like you to ever be impatient. Been around Quark lately?”

  His massage stopped and she regretted her words. She sat up. He was looking at his hand, which was becoming Bajoran again.

  There was nothing to say. No, that wasn’t true. But what could be said? There was so little time, always.

  “Nerys,” Odo broke in. “Let’s enjoy the day.”

  “And forget the future?”

  His eyes grew sad, but he smiled nonetheless. “We have a lot to celebrate.”

  Looking past him, Kira caught sight of her newly commissioned Starfleet dress uniform. The braiding caught the light of the rising suns, sending gold around the room.

  “We do,” she concurred. “It’s not every day Bajor joins the Federation.”

  Kira grinned, but before she could say more, he had her in his arms, and he was bringing his lips to hers…

  …and like a runabout caught in unfriendly fire, Kira’s vision and body suddenly lurched. She was standing, her legs shaky. Black clouds bled into the sunlight, cacophonous screams and battle cries attacked her ears, the bed was gone, the room was gone, and so was…

  “Odo,” she half-moaned, half-called. Shutting her eyes, she felt herself falling before two strong arms caught her.

  “Nerys!” a voice yelled in her ear. “You may be lost but we’re not! Don’t let them take you!”

  It took a second for her to realize that the voice belonged to the arms, to…

  “Nerys!”

  Opening her eyes, Kira found herself in combat boots and resistance fatigues, a phaser rifle in her grasp. Something soft brushed against the back of her neck, and she reached behind to touch it.

  “Odo? Is that—”

  Her hand recoiled. It wasn’t Odo. Long hair draped along her spine, tied back with a soft piece of cloth. She looked around and saw that it was night on Bajor, 2600 hours at least. A large building lay ahead of her, its fluorescent security lights casting an eerie glow around the perimeter. Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and activating her rifle, she pivoted sharply…

  A large sword came crashing down against the one she gripped in her hands. A man with muddy, blood-encrusted features snarled as he tried to force down her thin frame.

  I know this battle, too, she thought, and with a surge of might, propelled the man away from her.

  I know this battle, too….

  The Cardassian hiding in the bushes was dead before he pulled the trigger. Kira stalked over to him and plucked a sidearm from his stiff grasp. She swung it over her shoulder and stared down at the lifeless, reptilian creature. For grim pleasure, she lifted her boot and ground it into the sharp point on his chest armor. It didn’t delight her as much as she had expected.

  A dark figure darted by her, tapping her on the arm.

  All is clear.

  Rushing after her shadowed ally, avoiding the pools of light, Kira reached the back entrance of the building. The figure had already ducked inside, and reaching the door, Kira felt a memory click into place.

  “The Bajoran Institute for Science,” she breathed.

  An instant later, the entire area was plunged into darkness. Guards yelled out orders, and Kira dove inside, feeling her way along a winding corridor. She paused to listen for activity, pulling out her scanner for a second opinion.

  Springing to life, the scanner’s viewscreen cast gold shadows on the wall, and Kira soon found that a Cardassian jamming system was holding out longer than the Institute’s lights. As she ran through her rudimentary hacking skills, the sound of footsteps approached once again, and she blinked out the scanner’s display. Readying her weapon, hoping she wouldn’t have to approximate a target in the dark, she crept closer to the sound. It stopped, and so did she.

  Both parties waited, and then Kira tried the first move. Swinging her rifle into position, she was met by gruff hands easily disabling it from her. She tried unsuccessfully to shake them off before the sidearm was taken off her back. Las
hing out with her fists, she failed to stop a pair of hands from grabbing her around the waist and mouth, and another pair from lifting her feet.

  She was carried down the corridor, kicking the entire way, until she was released onto a grated surface. Doors hissed shut. There wasn’t a sound but her own breathing. She rose as silently as she could, her hand brushing against the walls in search of a panel.

  “Nerys. Don’t.”

  An electric torch flickered to life, illuminating the face of Shakaar Edon, his features contorted by blue shadows. Another torch glowed a moment later, revealing the wild hair and eyes of Lupaza, her good friend from the resistance days. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kira felt things align…and yet…not at all.

  Shakaar and Lupaza…deceased…somewhere. My clothes, my hair…fifteen, a time ago, a member of…Shakaar’s resistance cell? Cardassians…Bajor…

  “Sorry about the kidnapping,” Shakaar said.

  “I didn’t think Cardies came that short, but we couldn’t be too careful,” Lupaza added.

  “What’s our status?” Kira asked, waving away explanations.

  “Thanks to some engineering brilliance,” Shakaar began, nodding to Lupaza.

  The woman grinned. “Cardies think it’s a hot summer’s blackout.”

  “We’ve got emergency life-support,” Shakaar started again.

  “But Lupaza’s rigged it so that emergency alarms are offline,” Kira finished.

  “Exactly.”

  “What about scanners?” Kira asked. “Mine’s jammed.”

  “So are theirs,” Lupaza drawled, and that familiar smirk spread across her face.

  Shakaar pulled out a blueprint of the Institute.

  “We’re here,” he said, pointing to a large room, “and we need to get—”

  “Here,” a voice grumbled, and a mug of wine was thrust into Kira’s hands, which were now streaked with dried mud. A huge plain surrounded her, filled with tents. Loose material flapped in the night breezes, and distant voices could be heard singing. Her companion moved in to stoke the fire.