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Star Trek - DS9 - Heart Of The Warrior - Book 17

Page 3

by John Gregory Betancourt


  this time. The price sounded more than fair to her. At

  times like these, she thought the resistance movement

  had brought the Bajoran people closer together than

  at any other time in history. "Hold the ship for me.

  I'll get back to you later today to work out the

  details."

  "Of course," Jael said. "I'm happy to help. Take

  care of yourself, Nerys." She severed the connection.

  Kira leaned back. "It looks like we've got your

  hull," she said a trifle smugly to O'Brien. It was easy,

  when you knew the right people.

  O'Brien shook his head. "Is there anyone you don't

  know on Bajor?" he asked.

  Kira grinned. Sometimes it felt that way to her, too.

  "You forget how big the resistance movement was,

  Chiefi"

  He rose suddenly. "I'd better get an environment

  suit and take a look at the Galactic Queen's engines,"

  he said. "I'll let you know in half an hour whether it's

  workable."

  As the airlock cycled and the huge coglike door

  rolled to the side, Benjamin Sisko pulled his shirt

  smooth and drew himself up straighter. A Starfleet

  captain had to maintain an air of dignity at all times,

  he knew. The Valtusian delegation had gone to a lot of

  trouble to set up these peace negotiations, and Admir-

  al Dulev had underlined the importance of success to

  him. Fighting the Maquis sapped both Cardassian

  and Federation strength, diverting their attention

  from a larger threat in the Gamma Quadrant. If there

  could be a fair and amicable settlement, they would

  jump on it.

  If only the Valtusians' timing had been better. He

  didn't relish the idea of having this peace conference

  aboard DS9 while Odo, Kira, and Worf were away.

  Their mission to the Gamma Quadrant had come

  about three days previously, when Admiral Dulev had

  summoned him to Starbase 201. He'd gone aboard

  the Defiant with Worf and Dax.

  There, they had been ushered almost at once into

  the admiral's meeting room. It had been Spartanly

  furnished a long table, eight chairs, a pitcher of ice

  water on a tray with glasses. Sisko surveyed the room

  and noticed the three other people already there and

  tried to hold in his surprise. The admiral, of course,

  sat at the head of the table. She had her brown hair

  pulled back in the severe bun that was becoming

  popular among high-ranking Starfleet women. To her

  right sat her golden boy, Lieutenant Colfax, looking a

  little smug in his trim red command uniform. To the

  admiral's left sat a humanoid alien covered in pale

  yellow fur, with a pronounced snout and eight-

  fingered hands... a female Groxxin, he realized.

  They were native to the Gamma Quadrant. So what

  was this one doing sitting in on Admiral Dulev's

  meeting?

  The admiral wasted no time in getting down to

  business. "You remember Lieutenant Colfax, of

  course," she said. Sisko nodded; Colfax had been the

  one to contact him about this meeting. "This is

  Zheronn," she said, indicating the alien, "one of our

  informants from the Gamma Quadrant."

  Sisko raised his eyebrows slightly, but made no

  comment. An informant would have to have big news

  to travel this far, he realized. It meant the Groxxin

  had abandoned her job, her family, and any cover she

  might have established to hide her activities.

  "Zheronn," the admiral went on, leaning forward

  slightly, "has made a discovery about the labs which

  genetically engineered the Jem'Hadar for the change-

  lings. It seems that these 'perfect warriors' are not

  quite so perfect as we thought."

  "In what way?" Dax asked, leaning forward with

  interest.

  The admiral punched something into the terminal

  to her right. Instantly a holographic projection ap-

  peared over the conference table a common molecu-

  lar sequence, Sisko saw as it revolved a double-helix

  design. It looked almost like human genetic coding.

  "The Jem'Hadar version of DNA?" Dax guessed.

  "That's right," Admiral Dulev said. "The complete

  genetic code for the Jem'Hadar, including the changes

  which created their chemical dependency on the drug

  called Ketracel-white, their inborn respect for the

  Founders, and most important of all, their aggres-

  sively militant natures."

  "Surely we had already had access to this informa-

  tion," Sisko said. "We've encountered the Jem'Hadar

  often enough to have skin and other cell samples

  available for our scientists to analyze."

  "True. What we didn't have was a way to shut off

  these Founder-given genetic tweaks."

  "Shut them off..." Sisko echoed, shocked. "You

  mean we can change their genetic code?"

  "You're talking about a retrovirus, aren't you?"

  Dax asked. Sisko heard the rise of excitement in her

  voice. She knew what this meant, too, he thought.

  "I do not follow you," Worf said.

  Dax turned to him. "Retroviruses are small organ-

  isms that work on a genetic level. They exist as

  parasites in DNA. Your body is full of them, but that's

  all right since most of them are harmless. Some of the

  more dangerous types can rewrite bits of genetic code,

  making changes throughout the body."

  "Like Panzer's Syndrome," Sisko said. His few

  medical classes at the Federation started coming back

  to him. A retrovirus had invaded the bodies of every

  colonist on Galagos VI, and two hundred thousand

  humans had suddenly found themselves developing

  gills as a dormant genetic code reactivated itself.

  "Exactly," the admiral said. "I'11 let Zheronn ex-

  plain." She turned to the yellow-furred Groxxin.

  Zheronn hesitated a second. When she spoke, the

  universal translator gave her a soft, sultry voice.

  "My mate and I work at Laboratory Complex

  Ileph-B on Daborat V," she said. "We were in charge

  of cataloging and filing. One day a computer error

  gave us access to a classified section of the cataloging

  system, and Orvor found records from the earliest

  days of the Dominion including the designs for a

  retrovirus that can modify the Jem'Hadar's genetic

  code to eliminate their violent tendencies and stop

  their dependence on Ketracel-white. In essence, it

  returns them to their state before the Founders modi-

  fied their bodies."

  "Effectively neutralizing them as a military threat,"

  Lieutenant Colfax finished.

  "If that is true," Worf said, "we must obtain that

  retrovirus at all costs."

  Sisko steepled his fingers thoughtfully. This

  sounded like the solution to their conflict with the

  changelings. Without the Jem'Hadar to back them up

  with military strength, much of the Dominion's

  threat to the Alpha Quadrant would be ended.

  And yet something still bothered him. Why had

  they been summoned to this meeting? Where di
d he

  fit into Admiral Dulev's plan?

  "Why do I feel there's a catch?" he asked.

  Zheronn said, "Only one of us could make it out

  with the information, and Orvor chose to send me.

  He, however, kept the design specifications for the

  retrovirus. You must rescue him from Daborat V to

  get it. That is our price for helping you."

  "Impossible," Worf said. "Daborat V is one of the

  most heavily guarded Jem'Hadar bases in the Gamma

  Quadrant!"

  "It must be done," Zheronn said. "That is our

  price."

  "We feel a small group may be able to infiltrate

  Daborat V successfully in order to bring Orvor out,"

  Admiral Dulev said. "Your people have the most

  experience with changelings and the Jem'Hadar, Cap-

  tain. I want you to put together an away team for this

  mission including your Constable Odo. They will

  depart as soon as possible. Time is of the essence."

  Sisko frowned a bit. Rescuing someone from one of

  the largest Jem'Hadar bases in the Gamma Quadrant

  was a lot to ask, but he knew that with such a big

  payoff at stake, they had to take the chance. He said,

  "I'11 need a civilian ship."

  "Requisition whatever you need," Admiral Dulev

  said, rising. "I'll leave you and Lieutenant Colfax to

  work out the details." She nodded to Zheronn, and

  the two of them left together.

  As soon as they were alone, Lieutenant Colfax

  smiled his too-smooth smile and said in his too-

  smooth voice, "Who do you have in mind for this

  mission, Captain?"

  And so Sisko had mentioned Kira and Worf. Worf

  had been only too happy to volunteer, as had Major

  Kira when he briefed her the following day back at

  DS9. Things had fallen quickly into place from there.

  If all went well, the three of them--Kira, Worf, and

  Odo--would leave tomorrow, and the peace negotia-

  tions would continue without pause aboard DS9.

  The airlock door finished opening, and Sisko felt

  his ears pop slightly as the Valtusian ship released its

  seals and pressures equalized. Suddenly a scent of the

  ship's internal atmosphere reached Sisko, and he

  found himself breathing deeply. It was a rich, earthy

  smell, filled with the tang of nitrogen and ozone, and

  it made the skin on the back of his hands and neck

  prickle. It smelled just like New Orleans after a

  thunderstorm, he thought, enjoying the sensation. It

  brought back quite a few pleasant memories, and for

  an instant he wished he could visit his father again. I

  do need a vacation, he thought. Maybe after every-

  thing settles down again.

  He forced his mind back to the here and now as

  three Valtusian ambassadors strolled single file

  through the airlock. All three had to duck--they

  towered over him, each a little more than two and a

  half meters in height, but less than half as wide as an

  average human. Their elongated gray-green skulls, the

  only part of their bodies showing, held two large,

  bulbous, unblinking green eyes set on either side of

  their heads. Their toothless mouths were oddly tiny,

  and they had no noses, only a pair of slits covered by a

  fine grayish green membrane that flared open, then

  closed, then flared open again as they breathed.

  They had a dislike of physical contact, Sisko re-

  called, which probably explained the concealing

  robes. Even their hands were covered, he noticed.

  That wouldn't make Bashir's job any easier.

  Their feet making faint clicking noises beneath

  their robes, they drew to a stop before him. Sisko

  swallowed as he gazed up at their leader's face. He

  hadn't realized they were so tall, and he tried not to

  stare. Of course he knew what they looked like from

  pictures, and many years ago he'd seen one on Vulcan

  in the distance, but it had not prepared him to meet

  three at one time. They were daunting, to say the

  least.

  He glanced from one to another. It was impossible

  to tell which was their leader. As one, they bowed to

  him, their foreheads almost touching the floor.

  Sisko bowed back and noted how Bashir and Odo

  did likewise. Worf, to their far left, nodded politely.

  They knew their protocols as well as he did.

  "Welcome to Deep Space Nine," he began. "I am

  Captain Benjamin Sisko. This is my chief medical

  officer, Julian Bashir, and Constable Odo, who is in

  charge of security for the peace conference, and

  Lieutenant Commander Worf, my military opera-

  tions officer. On behalf of the Federation, we wish to

  welcome you and extend an invitation to use any of

  the facilities aboard the station that you require."

  The three Valtusians bowed again. "I am Ambassa-

  dor Zhosh," said the one on the far left. His voice was

  high and reedy, almost musical. "My associates are

  Gerazh and Senosh."

  "Do you have any special requirements to make

  your stay more pleasant?" Sisko asked. "The envi-

  ronmental control in your suites can be adjusted

  to suit your needs, of course, but if there is anything

  else...?"

  "This has been a long and tiring journey," Ambas-

  sador Zhosh said. "We would like to rest now."

  "Of course," Sisko said. "We have one small securi-

  ty formality, however. We are requiring all conference

  attendees to take a DNA screening test. This is

  entirely for your own safety, of course," he added.

  "Test?" Ambassador Zhosh said. His solid green

  eyes stared unblinkingly at Sisko, and bits of gold

  inside them seemed to sparkle with sudden anger.

  "We were not informed of any such test."

  "It is a routine security check, to make sure you are

  who you say you are," Sisko said quickly. He tried to

  keep his voice calm and soothing. He could well

  understand the ambassador's reaction; there weren't

  supposed to be any surprises in diplomacy. "As I am

  sure you're aware, there is the possibility of change-

  lings from the Gamma Quadrant trying to infiltrate

  and disrupt this peace conference."

  "Yes," said Zhosh distantly. "We do understand the

  necessity. You may proceed."

  "Doctor?" he said, moving aside. Bashir had a

  soothing manner when dealing with patients, he

  knew, and that was what the situation called for. The

  Valtusians were an intensely private race, and he did

  not want to offend them.

  Bashir stepped forward and held out his DNA

  analyzer. "This box will read your DNA and identify

  your genetic codes," he said, "then use them to verify

  that none of you is a changeling."

  "How does it work?" Ambassador Zhosh asked,

  cocking his head to the side and staring down at the

  box with one round green eye.

  "Place your hand on top of the device. It will

  remove a skin cell and analyze it."

  Zhosh drew back as if horrified by the idea. "Our

  hands must
not be touched!" he said with a shudder.

  There was a note of alarm in his voice. "Our hands

  must not be touched!"

  They must have stumbled onto a cultural taboo,

  Sisko realized with a mental sigh. Perhaps that was

  why the attusians wrapped themselves so thoroughly

  in robes. That, or the Valtusians were changelings,

  which seemed singularly unlikely, since they had

  spearheaded the peace initiative from the beginning.

  Quickly he said, "I'm sure we can work out an

  alternative testing method."

  "It doesn't matter what part of the body is used,"

  Bashir said hastily. "Arms, elbows, feet--any patch

  of skin will do."

  Ambassador Zhosh gave another shudder. "We

  must discuss this matter privately," he said. "This is a

  serious breach of protocol, Captain Sisko. We are not

  pleased."

  Turning, he led the other two Valtusians back into

  their ship. The airlock door rolled closed with a low

  grating sound.

  Sisko swallowed. Had he single-handedly derailed

  the peace process? If so, Admiral Dulev would have

  his head on a platter--not an event he looked forward

  to.

  "I'm afraid they didn't react at all well to my

  scanner," Dr. Bashir said uneasily.

  Worf said sharply, "They are hiding something."

  "I felt that, too," Odo said.

  "I don't know very much about them," Sisko

  admitted. "However, nothing I've seen here today is

  the least bit out of character. They are an intensely

  private people, after all, and we may have stumbled

  onto one of their taboos. Let's give them a few

  minutes to talk things over. After all, we did spring

  this on them as a surprise. What do you think,

  Constable?"

  "I don't like them," Odo said. "Something about

  them makes me distinctly uneasy."

  That was interesting, Sisko thought. Odo very

  rarely voiced his inner feelings. He had to be more

  than a little uneasy to speak up like this now.

  "Why don't you call for more security," Sisko said,

  "in case we need help. Just keep them back. We don't

  want an incident if we can avoid one."

  "Agreed." Odo tapped his badge and said, "Bring a

  security detachment to Docking Port Three on the

  double!"

  Sisko tried to wait patiently. His thoughts bounced

  back and forth between the Valtusians, the peace

  conference, and the possibility of changelings trying

  to disrupt matters. Why weren't things ever easy?

 

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