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

by John Gregory Betancourt

  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