him to tell her what was going on.
"Jem'Hadar ahead," he breathed, the barest of
whispers. It sounded far too loud to him.
"Flee!" Snoct whimpered. The little alien turned to
run, but Worf snagged his arm with a lightning move.
"You will be safe with us," he promised. "Stay." It
was an order, not a suggestion.
Snoct's limbs were trembling violently, but he man-
aged a nod of assent. Worf released him, feeling a
twinge of disgust. Snoct was a coward, little better
than a spooked herd animal. Although he realized the
little alien couldn't help it--indeed, fleeing in terror
seemed to be his normal reaction to any confronta-
tion or surprise--such a response was so alien to the
Klingon way of life that Worfjust couldn't accept it.
There had to be something Snoct could do to bolster
his nerves. For now, though, it was enough that he
wasn't running down the corridor shrieking in hyster-
ical panic.
Carefully Worf peeked around the corner. Fifty
meters away, a group of seven Jem'Hadar warriors
was strolling toward him at a leisurely pace, laughing
and joking among themselves. Worf inhaled
sharply--their clothing was anything but standard
jungle-green kilts and leather sandals with thongs that
laced up their legs. Their chests and faces had been
painted with green geometric shapes. Strangest of all,
for weapons, the Jem'Hadar held what looked like
wooden spears. The whisking noise was them sharp-
ening the tips of those spears with stones as they
walked.
As he watched, they reached a small side corridor.
There they all paused, and two of their number leaped
down the passage, giving that strange warbling cry. A
second cry answered from farther down that side
corridor. Another hunting party? Worf assumed so.
A few moments later, the two rejoined their group.
They pantomimed throwing their spears with exagge-
rated hops and bounds, to the hoots and cheers of
their companions. A few Jem'Hadar now pulled small
nets from their belts and began whirling them over-
head until they made a whistling sound. The rest
cheered like it was all some wild, drunken game.
Suddenly he realized that it was a game to them,
like Kira had said. They were hunting Snoct Sneyd for
sport. But that was only part of it. This was a bonding
ritual, a way for warriors to grow closer to one
another. Everything made sense to him now. It didn't
matter if the hunt succeeded or not--it was the act
itself that they found important.
They gave another series of hunting calls. The
noises were designed to spook game animals, Worf
decided, to send them fleeing in panic. Kurn had done
that with the brush-devil, driving it toward Worf that
day on the Homeworld. And it was working just as
well on Snoct.
Satisfied he understood, Worf leaned back.
"They're trying to drive us out into the open," he said
to Kira. "They must have set a trap."
"We can't run into it blindly," Kira said.
"We must fight them," Worf said. He stretched,
feeling his muscles ripple like liquid durasteel. Only
seven Jem'Hadar and they looked inebriated. How
would they stand up against one sober Klingon warri-
or? Not well, he thought.
"Not a chance!" Kira said. "That's a fast way to an
early grave."
"They are only carrying spears and nets," he
pointed out. "We have phasers."
"If they fail to return, dozens or perhaps hundreds
of Jem'Hadar will come looking for them."
"I suppose you have a plan," Worf said. He readied
his phaser. "They will be here in a few moments."
Snoct whimpered again and started edging away.
Kira reached out, grabbed his arm, and hauled him
back. Worf shook his head with distaste; Snoct had
begun shaking in fear again. He had never seen such a
cowardly creature.
"Damn right, I have a plan," she said. "Since the
Jem'Hadar are in the access tunnels, who's going to be
outside in the ship's main corridors?" "The crew--" Worf began.
She shook her head. "With this many people hunt-
ing for us, a skeleton crew must be running the ship.
Every off-duty Jem'Hadar is probably in on the
hunt."
Worf pondered that for a second. It sounded rea-
sonable. Of course they would all want to take part in
the sport and the bonding ritual. He would have felt
the same way if Sisko held similar rituals aboard
DS9--which might be a good idea to suggest once
they got back.
"Where do you think we should go?" he asked.
"Back through the cleaning supply closet, assuming
we can get to it safely, and then out into the landing
bay."
"Our ship--"
"It's a possibility."
"I will go first," Worf said, heading back down the
tunnel. Now that they had a plan, he could act on it.
Periodically he glanced back to check on Kira, and
each time he found her following, still clutching
Snoct's arm in a vicelike grip. Good; she wasn't taking
any chances in letting him get away.
At each intersection Worf paused, listening. Any
time he heard sounds of Jem'Hadar hunters, they
skirted them. Once, in a darkened section, he saw
bright lights approaching from the left. He led them
back, crouched in the recess with Kira and Snoct until
a hunting party of six Jem'Hadar passed, then led
them forward once more.
Finally, after what seemed hours, they reached the
access panel leading to the cleaning supply closet.
Worf pressed his ear to the panel and listened in-
tently. He heard not a whisper of a sound from the
other side; it had to be empty. Leaning his shoulder to
the panel, he pushed until it snapped out of position,
then slid it smoothly to the side. "Quickly," he said.
Kira released Snoct who promptly turned and
bolted blindly up the corridor.
Worf dove after him and just managed to snag the
back of the little alien's tunic. Snoct whirled, fangs
snapping, and Worf slapped him open-handed across
the face. Hissing, Snoct drew back to strike again, and
this time Worf shook him like a rag doll. He wasn't
taking any chances of getting another bite from the
little alien; once had been more than enough.
At last Snoct went limp. A series of small sobs
shook his body.
"It will be all right," Worf said, trying to sound
reassuring. In some ways, Snoct reminded him of his
son Alexander. He could still remember the times on
the Enterprise when Alexander had awakened scream-
ing from nightmares. Comforting his son had been a
new and somewhat awkward experience. But he had
learned the technique from necessity. "It will be all
right," Worf said again. "I will not let them hurt you."
The warbling cries of the h
unters grew louder.
"Let me go!" Snoct whimpered. "Let me go!"
"Not a chance," Kira said. Worfnoted idly that her
voice held far less sympathy than his. She ducked
through the opening into the cleaning supply closet.
"Pass him through," she said to Worf.
Worf, holding Snoct one-handedly by the back of
his tunic, pushed him through the opening, then when
Kira had him safely restrained, Worf climbed through
himself. Turning, he eased the access panel back into
position. When it snapped into place, the cries of the
Jem'Hadar hunters became nearly inaudible. They
were safe, at least for the moment, he decided.
He glanced around. Nothing had changed in the
supply closet, and he still found the stench of chemi-
cals and cleaning solutions overpowering. He rubbed
his nose and tried to ignore a sudden urge to sneeze.
At least Snoct had stopped shaking, he saw, and now
huddled quietly in the center of the room. The closet
seemed to be something of a safe haven for him.
Kira crossed to the door into the landing bay and
opened it a crack. A bright blade of light cut across the
room. Worf straightened, listening intently, but noth-
ing more than the low constant thrum of the ship's
engines reached him.
"It's deserted," Kira said, peeking out, "exactly as
I'd hoped."
She opened the door fully, and Worf gazed out into
the flight bay. It stretched hugely before them. Not a
single Jem'Hadar was in sight, but a new ship had
docked, he noticed. It was a small, sleek-looking white
craft with three warp nacelles over an ovoid cabin.
He'd never seen anything quite like that design be-
fore. It certainly hadn't been made in the Alpha
Quadrant.
He noticed Kira eyeing the new ship, too. "What do
you think?" she asked softly.
"If we can get it out..." he mused. It might be
exactly the sort of vessel they would need to get to
Daborat V, he realized. It looked fast. And if the
changelings had installed one of the cloaking devices
they'd stolen from the Romulan fleet they'd de-
stroyed, it could well be the answer to their problems.
"Shall we take it?" he asked.
Kira hesitated. "Not yet," she said, "but I think it's
going to be the safest place to hide."
"Agreed," Worf said. The last place the Jem'Hadar
would think to search would be another ship. "What
about Snoct?" he asked.
"Bring him," she said. "He wants off this ship as
badly as we do."
"Thank you? Snoct called, leaping to his feet.
"Thank you!"
"We will not be able to use our personal cloakers if
there are three of us," Worf pointed out. "It is a long
way across to that ship."
"I don't think we'll need them. Cover me." Kira
took a hesitant step out from the storage room, looked
up and down the broad expanse of the landing bay,
then turned and walked with calm precision toward
the new ship.
She reached it unchallenged, entered the open
hatch, and disappeared from sight. Worf strained to
hear. He didn't like not being able to see her.
Snoct crowded up against him, and he let one hand
drop to the little alien's shoulder. If Snoct tried to flee
again, he'd be ready for it, he thought.
"Let me go!" Snoct said, sounding like his old self
once more. He had completely stopped shaking.
"Will you run?" Worf asked.
"No."
Worf narrowed his eyes, studying the little alien.
Snoct seemed in complete control of himself now.
How would Deanna have handled it? She would have
analyzed SnocFs motives, he thought. Undoubtedly
she would have concluded that he suffered from a
strong panic-flight impulse. Now that Snoct was no
longer confronted by an immediate threat, his ration-
al mind had resumed control. But how long would it
last? Worf wished he knew. Probably until we encoun-
ter another danger, he thought.
"Let me go, please, friend Worfl" Snoct said again.
"Very well," Worf said a little reluctantly. He
couldn't fight effectively while shepherding the little
alien anyway, and Kira might need him any second
now. "But I will be watching you," he added in his
most menacing growl.
Kira finally reappeared in the little shuttle's open
hatch and beckoned them forward. She hadn't drawn
her weapon, he noticed, which seemed a good sign.
"Come," Worf said. Drawing a deep breath, he
jogged away from the storage room door, heading for
the shuttle. Suddenly he realized he didn't hear
Snoct's footsteps behind him and, with a silent groan,
he glanced back.
Calmly, the little alien was shutting the storage
room's door behind them. Worf could have slapped
himself; he should have thought to do that. When
Snoct finished, he dropped to all fours and sprinted
after Worf.
Worf made it up the ramp and into the ship. It had
only been a hundred meters, but he felt his heart
racing. He would double his workouts when he got
back to Deep Space Nine, he vowed, to get into better
shape. A Klingon warrior's heart should be beating
almost normally after a dash like that.
A second later Snoct joined him. The alien panted,
long forked tongue flicking in and out between his
fangs.
"Well?" Worf asked Kira.
"It's perfect," she said. "This ship has the range to
make it to Daborat V and back to the Alpha Quad-
rant."
"Do you mean to steal it or to hijack it?" Worf
asked, brow furrowing. Both possibilities had their
advantages, he thought. Hijacking the ship after it
had launched would mean fighting and prisoners. But
trying to steal it from the flight bay might be even
harder. He felt no qualms about taking the ship either
way; the Federation was at war with the Dominion,
and this would be a military action, he reasoned,
rather than theft in the traditional sense.
"I'm not sure which would be easier," she admit-
ted. "We'll have to see what opportunities present
themselves. Our first goal remains getting safely to
Daborat V. We still have to meet Orvor there. For
now, I think we should stow away here and see what
develops."
"By the time this ship is launched, we might be
halfway across the Gamma Quadrant!"
"I think it's a chance we should take," Kira said.
"We can't guarantee that any Jem'Hadar ship will
land on Daborat V, but given the size and proximity
of that base, I think it's a good possibility."
Worf considered that. True, Daborat V was an
important world in the Dominion, and it held the
largest Jem'Hadar base in this sector. Logically, it
might well be the little ship's next destination.
"But if it is not the destination..." he began,
looking at her sharply.
"If it's not," she said, "we'll take the ship on a little
detour. By force, if we have to."
Worf nodded. It was a good plan, he decided.
Kira led the way toward the rear of the ship. It had
been divided into three compartments, Worf saw.
Four seats occupied the smaller front compartment,
facing control panels and the broad curved viewports.
The second compartment held two long slightly
curved benches, separated by a wide aisle; the walls
were white and made of some sound-dampening
material, as were the floors and ceiling. The third
compartment held storage lockers, the warp drive,
and controls for all of the ship's other systems.
The lockers, he saw at once, offered the most cover.
He opened the nearest one and peered inside, sniffing.
A faint odor of mold greeted him, and something had
left a greasy stain on the floor. Other than that, it was
empty. At least it was tall enough that he could
probably squeeze inside with a minimum of trouble,
he thought.
He eased his right shoulder in, tucked down his
head, and crammed himself in as best he could. Kira
pushed until the door shut and the latch clicked. He
could see out a little bit through the narrow ventila-
tion grills cut into the metal. "How is it?" she asked.
"Bearable," he said. He wouldn't want to spend
much time locked in here, though.
Suddenly Snoct Sneyd dashed into the rear of the
shuttle. "They're coming!" he shouted in near hyster-
ia. "They're coming!"
"Who?" Worf demanded through the locker.
"Jem'Hadar!"
"Stay inside, Worf," Kira said to him. 'Tll get
Snoct out of sight and hide myself. This could be it!"
"Hurry," he told her. He dropped his hand to his
phaser. If she couldn't get under cover in time, he
would leap out to help defend her.
He watched through the vents as she forced Snoct
into another empty locker, then climbed into one
herself and shut the door.
She barely made it in time. Worf discovered he
could see about half of the passenger section and a
third of the cabin where the pilots sat, if he pushed
himself all the way back against the far wall of the
locker. He felt the metal start to bend beneath him
and forced himself to relax. This was going to be a
long trip, he told himself. He wasn't looking forward
to it. Already his muscles had begun to ache from
confinement.
One by one he began to tense his muscles, going
Star Trek - DS9 - Heart Of The Warrior - Book 17 Page 14