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

Page 7

by John Gregory Betancourt


  "Good." Colfax smiled and sealed up his satchel. "I

  wish you all luck and all success. And now, Captain,"

  he said to Sisko, "I've got to get back to my ship."

  Sisko rose. "I'll walk you out," he said.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Two HOURS LATER, Kira found herself standing next to

  Worf on the transporter pad in Ops. "Energize," O'Brien said.

  Kira tensed a little as the two of them beamed over

  to the Progress. She didn't know what to expect, but

  she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she

  wouldn't like it.

  The second she materialized, she sniffed the air as

  discreetly as she could, but tasted none of the Galactic

  Queen's foul odor. That was one mark in this ship's

  favor, she thought, ancing around. Beside her, Worf

  was doing likewise.

  The Progress had a large oval cabin, with seats for

  a pilot and copilot in the front, facing a broad

  viewport. The middle section of the ship had fifteen

  rows of seats that could recline into beds. Behind

  them, half screened off by panels, stood the warp

  engines and life-support panels. The only thing lack-

  ing seemed to be a transporter. Hopefully they

  wouldn't need one.

  Right now DS9 hung before them, visible through

  the forward viewport, spinning ever so slowly. There

  were starships attached to every single port on the

  docking ring, Kira noted, and to two of the three tall

  docking pylons jutting over the station. She hadn't

  seen the station this busy since the Bajor's rogue

  moon had passed by several years before. Tourists and

  sightseers had flocked aboard to see the spectacle.

  Chief O'Brien and Odo materialized a few meters

  away in a shimmer of light. She forced her attention

  from DS9 and walked back to join them.

  "All systems check out, Major," O'Brien said with

  a broad grin. "She's ready to go. Maximum warp

  six-point-two, with a maximum safe range of about

  two hundred and fifty light-years."

  "You're sure the nacetles won't fall off?." she said.

  "Major..." His crestfallen expression betrayed his

  disappointment in her lack of faith.

  "Okay, okay," she said, laughing a little. "I'm sure

  everything's fine. But I'll run my own diagnostics, if

  you don't mind."

  "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," he said.

  Kira returned to the pilot's seat and brought the

  diagnostic tests online. Quickly she ran them through

  their paces and found that O'Brien hadn't

  exaggerated--everything did indeed check out at a

  hundred percent. There wasn't so much as an uneven

  flicker in the power couplings.

  "You're a miracle worker," she said. "I never would

  have believed it."

  He blushed a little. "Well, ! had help," he said. "I

  put eight people on it."

  Kira began to nod. It would do. For the first time,

  she thought this mad plan might actually work. And

  with the Romulan personal cloakers...

  "Any questions?" O'Brien asked.

  "None," Kira said. "We'll leave in half an hour.

  Just give us time to change into civilian clothes and

  we'll be set."

  "Great. I have one more thing to show you all first,

  though," he said. "If you'll follow me?" Turning, he

  headed aft.

  She accompanied him to the screened off engine

  area. There, he paused by the back wall.

  "This is it," he said, indicating battered, stained

  durasteel panels.

  "What?" Worf said, wandering closer. "A wall?"

  "No, I see the seams," Odo said, moving forward

  and looking closely. "Very ingenious, Chief."

  Worf stepped forward and ran his hands over the

  panels. "I see nothing," he said.

  Kira too peered closely at it, but couldn't see much

  more than durasteel plating. "Are you sure?" she said

  to Odo.

  O'Brien was grinning. "It takes a pro to spot it," he

  said.

  Odo snorted. "Or someone who's been watching

  Quark too long," he said.

  O'Brien stepped forward, pushed in a hidden catch,

  then slid the panel to one side, revealing a compart-

  ment large enough to hide a person.

  "In case of trouble," he said, "I put in two secret

  compartments. You can hide in them. They're fully

  screened, so if someone scans the ship, they won't

  pick up life signs."

  "Aren't you forgetting Odo?" Kira said.

  "It's hard for a scanner to pick up a changeling at

  the best of times," Odo said. "If I turn myself into

  something inanimate, they won't spot me, either."

  She nodded. O'Brien seemed to have thought of

  everything. Again she felt a surge of optimism. This

  mission really could succeed, she told herself.

  "Then let's move," she said. "The sooner we get

  going, the sooner we get back." She tapped her badge.

  "Major Kira to DS9. Four to beam over."

  Odo beamed back to DS9 with the others, but while

  Kira and Worf went to change into civilian clothes, he

  returned to his office. All the security details for the

  peace conference had already been set, but he wanted

  to take a last look at them. This would be the first

  major event on the station that he'd missed in all his

  years as head of security, and he didn't want anything

  to happen while he was gone. Nobody was indispensa-

  ble, of course, but he liked feeling needed. Since he'd

  rejected his own kind, it gave him a measure of

  comfort knowing there was a place he would always

  be welcome. He wouldn't allow anything to jeopar-

  dize that. He wanted a home to return to when this

  mission ended.

  His door opened, and Captain Sisko stepped in

  with a large square box in his hands.

  Odo rose. "Captain," he said. "What brings you

  here?"

  "This," Sisko said, indicating the box. Odo looked

  it over, but it appeared innocuous. "A bomb?" he asked.

  "A peace initiative," Sisko said. "It contains a

  holographic recording inviting the Founders to a

  peace conference. If you're caught in the Gamma

  Quadrant, it might buy you some extra time. At the

  very least it gives you a legitimate excuse to be there."

  He smiled a little too thinly, Odo thought. "And, of

  course, there is always the chance your people will

  choose to take me up on the offer... remote as it

  seems now."

  "Very remote," Odo said dryly. He couldn't imag-

  ine anything more surprising when it came to the

  changelings; they had stated their intention of con-

  quering the Alpha Quadrant quite clearly. "But ! will,

  of course, pass it on... should the opportunity

  arise."

  "That's all I ask." Sisko set the box on the edge of

  Odo's desk, then turned toward the door. Almost as

  an afterthought, he added, "Take care of them, Odo. I

  want my people back alive. And that includes you."

  "Of course," Odo said, straightening a little. Sisko

  was
depending on him. Sisko needed him. "I'll do my

  best."

  Kira studied her reflection in the full-length mirror

  next to her closet a dark blue one-piece suit, with a

  stripe of silver across the left shoulder and a splash of

  gold at the wrists. The sleeves flared a little more

  widely than she liked, allowing two silver bracelets to

  show, but she could live with that. What she missed

  was her earring; the right side of her head looked odd

  without it, and she felt a little off-balance. Imagina-

  tion of course, since the earring didn't weigh much,

  but still, it didn't look or feel like her, like Major Kira

  Nerys the Bajoran, without it.

  She turned to the side and studied her profile. She

  looked very different, she decided. Nobody on Bajor

  would recognize her now. Not even--

  A loud series of electronic beeps interrupted her

  thoughts. "Come in," she called.

  The door whisked open. Captain Sisko stepped in

  and did a double take.

  "What do you think?" Kira asked, turning around

  once for him.

  "You look quite different, Major," he said.

  "Good different or bad different?" she asked with a

  wicked grin. She'd see if he'd fall into that trap.

  "Like a Gamma Quadrant native," he said with a

  laugh. "The Maquis ship will be here soon, and I

  wanted to wish you luck before you go."

  "Thank you," she said seriously.

  "Is there anything else you want to bring with

  you?" he asked. "Any tools or weapons or...

  anything?"

  Kira indicated her pack, which sat on the table by

  the door. It held everything from emergency food

  rations to high-tensor cord to extra power packs for

  their phasers. "Worf and I already went through

  that," she said. "I think we're set for anything we

  come across." I hope, she mentally added.

  "Take care of yourself, Major," he said somberly.

  "I'm counting on you to bring everyone else back

  alive."

  Kira swallowed. "Yes, sir," she said, and she felt a

  sudden flush of pride. He was counting on her. She

  knew she couldn't let him down.

  Then he nodded once and left.

  She'd do her best to make sure she lived up to his

  expectations. She glanced at the mirror one last time,

  picked up her pack, and headed for the transporter in

  Ops. Time to get going. The sooner they left, the

  sooner they'd be back.

  Worf shouldered his pack and started for the door.

  This was just a mission like any other, he told himself.

  They would go, get the informant and his data, and

  come back. Never mind that he had to dress in a

  loose-fitting gray tunic, with a hood that could be

  pulled up to cover his head; the importance of the

  mission far outweighed his own comfort and fashion

  sense. But he'd still take a good uniform any day.

  As his door opened, he stopped short. Captain

  Sisko stood outside, poised to knock.

  "Captain," he said, stepping back. "Won't you...

  come in7"

  "Thank you, Commander," Sisko said, stepping

  forward. "I've only known you a short while," he said

  as the door closed behind him, "but I've developed a

  deep respect for your talents."

  Worf felt his chest puff out a little. "Thank you,

  sir," he said. Sisko was not a human given to extrava-

  gant praise, he knew, and coming from him, this

  meant a lot.

  "Although Major Kira is in charge of this mission,

  you're still the ranking Starfleet officer. I wanted you

  to know that I'm counting on you to make sure our

  interests are fully protected."

  Worf nodded. That much went without saying. He

  intended to give one hundred percent of his energy

  and attention to making sure they succeeded.

  "And..." Sisko went on. "Good luck. Bring every-

  one back alive, Worf."

  "Thank you, sir," Worf said. He'd do his best. Even

  if it killed him.

  Sisko accompanied Worf to Ops, then watched as

  Dax beamed first the Klingon and Kira, then Odo

  over to the Progress using the two-man transporter.

  He had nodded to each of them, and he saw how

  each took it personally to heart. Pep talks had never

  come easily to him, but this time he'd meant every

  word. He was depending on them to make it back.

  Succeed or fail, he wanted them home safely.

  Dax joined him and leaned on his shoulder. "You

  have the gloomiest expression on your face that I've

  ever seen," she said. "They'll be back. Let them do

  their jobs while you do yours. Come on, I'll buy you a

  drink at Quark's. I hear O'Brien and Bashir are

  planning another rematch in their ongoing darts

  tournament."

  "Maybe later, old man."

  "It's a date. I'll collect you at six."

  He gazed over at one of the monitors, which

  showed the Progress slowly accelerating away from the

  station. Suddenly the wormhole opened before the

  ship like a dazzling blue whirlpool in space--and just

  as suddenly it was gone, the Progress along with it.

  "Stay well, my friends," he murmured. "Stay well."

  CHAPTER

  8

  AN HOUR LATER, the door to his office beeped. Sisko

  sighed and looked up from his computer terminal.

  Just as he was starting to get a handle on this week's

  reports... just as he was starting to forget that he'd

  just sent three of his people on what might turn out to

  be a suicide mission by burying himself in routine

  work... reality had to intrude. "Come," he called.

  Dax stuck her head in the office, and Sisko relaxed a

  little. It was hard to be annoyed by your best friend.

  "Yes, Dax?" he said.

  "I thought you'd want to know, Benjamin," she

  said. "The Maquis ship just docked."

  "Thank you," he said, tabbing off the screen and

  rising. "Have you told Dr. Bashir yet?"

  "I've already alerted him." Dax matched his stride

  as Sisko headed for the turbolift. "He's going to meet

  us there."

  "Us?" Sisko shot her a puzzled glance. She hadn't

  expressed any interest in meeting the other delegates;

  she had to have an ulterior motive. He knew her

  symbiont well enough to realize that.

  She smiled. "Well, they were a little nervous about

  coming here. This is a Federation base, and when the

  Excalibur showed up, it really spooked them. I gave

  them my word that this wasn't a trap, so I thought I'd

  be there to make sure everything goes smoothly."

  That was more like it. But something still seemed to

  be bothering her. As the lift doors shut, he asked, "Is

  something else concerning you?"

  "Well, yes, now that you mention it," she said.

  "Benjamin, you've looked better, and you seem dis-

  tracted. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  Sisko forced a smile. "I'm just feeling a little

  overwhelmed. There's too much going on at once."

  "You mean between the mission to
the Gamma

  Quadrant and the peace conference."

  Those, and a thousand other things, Sisko thought.

  He nodded.

  "Don't worry about Kira and Worf. You know they

  have a good chance to make it out," Dax said. "Those

  personal ctoakers are enough to get them out of

  anything. And Odo is a Founder. The Jem'Hadar

  practically fall to the floor and worship him whenever

  they see him."

  Sisko nodded. "Yes, but I can't help but feel I

  should have gone myself."

  "They volunteered."

  "I know--and I know my accompanying them

  wouldn't have helped."

  "And you are needed at this peace summit," Dax

  went on. "Put your energies where they'll do the most

  good."

  "Like here," Sisko said with a quick grin. Some-

  how, she always knew what to say to him. Sometimes

  he thought she knew him better than he knew himself.

  "Like here," she said firmly.

  "Dax, sometimes I think you should have been a

  psychiatrist."

  She made a face. "That's so boring."

  The doors opened. Sisko pulled his dress uniform a

  trifle straighter. "Let's get it over with," he said.

  Philip Twofeathers sucked in a deep breath and

  tried to hide his growing nervousness. His wide, flat

  face with its prominent nose, dark eyes, and deep

  reddish brown skin told of his Native American

  heritage more than his conservative gray one-piece

  suit, and for an instant he almost wished he'd worn

  something more comfortable. His people--

  descendants of the Cherokee--had settled a frontier

  planet called Dorvanto twenty years previously, and

  they had gone back to their people's old ways. He

  would have felt more comfortable in a leather vest,

  breechcloth, and moccasins. It had been many years

  since he'd worn such confining clothing. Unlike the

  Starfleet vessels, Maquis ships had no stuffy dress

  codes.

  Why they had selected him, he still didn't quite

  understand. They had said it was because of his

  honesty, his dedication, and his commitment. Every

  other member of the Maquis felt the same way,

  though, he knew. They wouldn't be fighting an impos-

  sible guerrilla war against an overwhelmingly superi-

  or opponent like Cardassia if they didn't.

  He glanced over at Myriam Kravitz beside him.

  She, too, was from the Maquis, but it was her three

  years of legal training at Starfleet Academy--she left

 

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