them. They blinked bright red, warning of contamina-
tion.
"My tricorderm" Bashir began.
Quark snatched it from his hand. "--is malfunc-
tioning," he said. He gave a nervous laugh as he
passed it to Rom.
"It's set wrong," Rom said. He adjusted the con-
trols, scanned the ale again, and passed it to the
Bajoran who had been threatening him.
The Bajoran nodded. "There's nothing wrong with
it," he admitted.
"False alarm!" Quark shouted so everyone in the
room could hear. Bashir glanced around. Everyone
seemed to be relaxing again. "Nothing's wrong with
the ale! To celebrate, we'll take five percent off the
price of all drinks for the next ten minutes!"
People began calling orders to Rom, and Quark
hurried back to the bar to fill them. Bashir couldn't
miss the dirty look the little Ferengi shot him.
"Thank you for your concern, Doctor," edek
Werron said. "I appreciate the warning you tried to
give."
"Of course," Bashir said. "I'm sorry for the, uh,
mistake." He hurried back to his table. His cheeks
were burning. If he were a dog, he thought, his tail
would be firmly between his legs.
"My plan didn't work," he said to Garak as he slid
into his seat. He stared down at his apple juice,
brooding on the problem. low was he going to get a
cell or a sample of Werron's blood now?
"Don't look," Garak said, "but your Bajorans are
leaving the bar."
"What!" Bashir glanced up. Sure enough, the seven
of them had risen from their table and begun settling
their bill. Perhaps he'd put a scare into them, he
thought. Damn it, he'd have to act before they got
away. At least Werron brought up the rear.
"May I suggest a more direct approach?" Garak
said.
"What do you mean?"
"If it were me, I'd simply walk up to him on some
pretext and take a sample of his blood."
"Brilliant," Bashir breathed. The utter simplicity of
it all. It could actually work. Just do it, part of him
said. What could Vedek Werron do after the fact?
"Excuse me," he said, sliding from his seat. He
drew a hypo, cut across the room, and reached the
door just as Werron was leaving.
He bumped Werron hard from behind, taking his
sample from the Bajoran's arm. The hypo made the
faintest of hisses.
"Excuse me," Bashir said. "Very sorry, Vedek." He
tried to tuck the hypo up his sleeve. Hopefully the
Bajoran hadn't felt the tiny, almost unnoticeable little
sting from taking the blood sample.
Werron whirled and caught Bashir's hand.
"What by the Prophets do you think you're doing?"
he demanded. "What did you just inject me with,
Doctor?"
"Inject... no, I took a sample of blood!" Bashir
said. He'd put his foot in it now, he realized. The
Vedek thought he was trying to assassinate him.
"Why?" Werron demanded, eyes hard.
"Uh... testing for Xolon poisoning?" Bashir sug-
gested. He held the hypo up and swirled it gently. The
blood inside remained a dark red which meant Wer-
ron wasn't a changeling. I was so sure, he thought.
He met the Vedek's gaze. Rage had contorted
Werron's face, and those piercing green eyes seemed
to bore into Bashir.
"What's wrong?" the other Bajorans were saying,
gathering around the Vedek.
"He," Werron said, pointing, "stabbed me with a
needle and took a sample of my blood!"
"There are no needles in hyposprays," Bashir said,
swallowing frantically. He began to back into the bar
and suddenly found himself trodding on toes.
"What's going on?" another Bajoran voice asked.
"Vedek? Are you all right?" "No," Werron said.
Strong hands seized Bashir's arms from behind.
Bashir tried to wrench free, but couldn't. The circle
around him was closing in. Gulping, he felt a surge of
panic. He should have known better than to listen to
Garak's mad plan. How was he going to get out of
this?
CHAPTER
19
WATCHING FROM THE safety of her locker, Kira didn't
know what to do. Odo's presence complicated things.
Worst of all, he appeared to be cooperating com-
pletely with the changeling and the Jem'Hadar. Had
he gone over to the other side? They'd only been apart
for a day. She didn't think so, but it had to remain a
possibility. It might explain the hunt for them in the
access corridors.
No sense getting paranoid, she told herself. Snoct
said those hunts happened all the time. Our presence is
just a coincidence.
Finally she decided to trust her instincts. Odo had
always been a friend. He wouldn't betray them.
The ship's engines powered up, and she felt them
lift from the landing bay's deck. She watched the
Jem'Hadar pilots bring them around, then fly out,
passing through the series of force fields that served as
the giant landing bay's airlock. Then they were out-
side, and as soon as they were a safe distance out, they
went to warp. She saw stars streaking past on the
forward viewscreen.
Odo continued to stand in front with the changeling
and the Jem'Hadar pilots. He was chatting with them,
but she couldn't make out the words. If only he'd face
her for a minute.
Finally he turned. None of the others were
looking--this was her chance.
Opening the locker, she leaned out and waved. He
must have seen her, she thought, but he gave no sign
of it. Which meant he hadn't betrayed them.
A few minutes later, he wandered toward the back
of the ship with the other changeling.
"This is an interesting vessel," she heard him
saying. "I've never seen anything like it. What kind is
it?"
"The first of the new Jakar-class," the changeling
said. "It's a prototype from the shipyards in orbit
around Octyne III. We'll stop there, if you like."
"If you don't mind, I would like to examine the
engines more closely."
The changeling gestured magnanimously. "Of
course, Odo. Your own people have no secrets from
you."
"I'm sure," Odo said dryly. Turning, he headed into
the aft compartment. Kira watched through the venti-
lation slits in the storage compartment. Fortunately,
the other changeling didn't follow.
Odo approached the warp engines. He seemed
completely fascinated by them, Kira thought, study-
ing them like an engineer on an inspection circuit.
Finally Kira decided he was close enough to risk
trying to talk with him. She pressed her lips close to
the air vents and whispered, "Odo, it's me, Kira."
"I saw you," he whispered back. "Is Worf aboard,
too?"
"Yes," she said. "When are we going to land on
Daborat V?"
"It's our
second stop," Odo said, "after the energy
conversion complex at Skovar VI. Have patience. I'll
do the best I can to get you out safely when we reach
the planet."
"All right," Kira said.
She sank back as Odo, finishing his inspection,
returned to the front of the ship. This was going to be
a long journey, she thought. Already her muscles were
starting to tense up a bit from being in such a confined
space. She shifted uncomfortably. It had to be ten
times worse for Worf because of his size. She just
hoped he and Snoct Sneyd could hold out until they
made planetfall. Still, perhaps they'd have a chance to
stretch when they landed on Skovar VI.
Kira spent the next few hours dozing, trying to
make the time pass more quickly. When the tenor of
the engines changed suddenly, though, she snapped
awake. Something had happened, she realized.
She lowered her head and peered out the air vents.
Through the forward viewports she could just make
out a planet. They must have arrived, she realized.
She twisted a little, trying to relieve her aching
muscles, and bumped the locker's door hard with her
left knee. The thump sounded loud in the confined
space, but neither the Jem'Hadar nor the changeling
turned around.
They entered the atmosphere. It was a class-M
planet, Kira rapidly realized, as they pierced the
dense layer of clouds covering the surface and tower-
ing green forests appeared.
When buildings appeared on the horizon, they
landed smoothly, and the side hatch popped open.
She heard the ramp extending to the ground outside.
A sudden banging sound close by startled her.
Worf? No, she realized, as Snoct Sneyd burst into
view, it was the little alien. He made a mad dash for
the hatch.
One of the Jem'Hadar leaped forward and seized
Snoct by the back of the neck. Snoct whipped around
and tried to sink his fangs into the warrior's arm, but
the Jem'Hadar hit him twice with a rocklike fist.
Snoct sagged a little, hissing.
"What is this creature?" the changeling asked.
"An Iffalian," said one of the pilots. He told briefly
how the little alien had sneaked onto their ship. "We
have been hunting it for several months for sport," he
concluded.
"Dispose of it," said the changeling.
The Jem'Hadar holding Snoct reached down and
drew his sidearm.
When Snoct Sneyd let out a plaintive whimper, the
breath caught in Kira's throat. How could the change-
ling order a murder so callously? Snoct was sentient.
They couldn't just shoot him.
Instinctively she reached for her phaser. She wasn't
going to sit here while someone she knew was butch-
ered. Not when she could do something about it.
"Wait!" cried Odo, gazing from the changeling to
Snoct Sneyd. "You can't kill an intelligent creature
like that!"
Kira relaxed a little. Maybe she wouldn't have to
act, she thought.
"Intelligent?" the changeling said with a sneer. "A
truly intelligent being would have escaped long ago.
No, Odo, you need to learn how we do things in the
Gamma Quadrant." He nodded to the Jem'Hadar.
"Proceed."
The Jem'Hadar raised their weapons to fire.
Time to act. Kira burst from her locker, phaser
firing. She liked the little fellow too much to stand by
and let him be executed.
CHAPTER
2O
As THE CIRCLE of angry Bajorans closed around him,
Basbir realized he only had one defense--the truth.
"I needed a sample of your blood," he blurted out
to Werron, "to verify that you were not a changeling
infiltrating the station from the Gamma Quadrant."
He held up the vial. "You've just been cleared; you're
Bajoran."
Werron paused and held up one hand for the vial.
Bashir felt a quick wave of relief as the Vedek's
followers released him. He handed the vial over.
"I fail to understand," Werron said slowly, staring
at his blood, "why you'd think I might be a changeling
infiltrator."
"You appeared suddenly a year ago as a public
figure after twenty years of near invisibility."
"It was the will of the Prophets."
"And then there were your attacks on Gul
Mekkar--"
Werron's face twisted with rage. "Those are right-
eous attacks! He is the Butcher of Belmast! We must
be avenged!"
"That may be," Bashir said quickly. No sense
upsetting him more. "But we think the changelings
want this conference stopped. What better way than
to have one of the chief negotiators removed?"
"A better way," Werron said, "would be to infiltrate
one of the negotiating teams."
"We already thought of that," Bashir said.
"It all makes sense," Werron said slowly. He turned
to his followers, and Bashir thought he saw a vengeful
gleam in the Vedek's eye as he loudly announced,
"The Cardassian war criminal Gul Mekkar, the
Butcher of Belmast, is a changeling!"
"But I tested Mekkar's blood!" Bashit protested
from behind him. There wasn't any possibility of the
Cardassian being a changeling.
"But," said Werron, turning back to him, "is there
any way to tell if the results might have somehow been
faked? Can you say in all certainty that he couldn't
have found some way around your little test?"
Bashir drew himself up. "I designed the DNA
scanner myself," he said. "I tested everyone in the
Cardassian delegation. They all passed. Just as the
altusians, the Maquis, and the Federation ambassa-
dors passed."
"But couldn't they have found a way to fool your
screening method?" Werron prodded. "Couldn't they
have found some trick to get around it?"
Bashir hesitated. He couldn't think of a way, but
that didn't mean one didn't exist... did it? Even if it
was a slender possibility.
"Perhaps," he admitted.
Werron smiled serenely. "That," he said, "is all I
wanted to know."
Benjamin Sisko sighed. He wished he could cover
his ears to shut out the noise, but he knew everyone in
the room--Cardassians, Humans, and Valtusians
alike--would take affront at the gesture. He wanted
them united but not united against him.
"Paragraph one, subsection three," Gul Mekkar
said in a loud voice and for the fourth time, "remains
utterly unacceptable."
They were going through the Valtusian peace pro-
posal line by line now, arguing over language, inter-
pretation, and consequences. In short, they were
bickering.
"I suppose you'd like to simply clear out all the
human settlers," the Maquis representative said with
a sneer. "Just ship us off to work camps, like you did
with Bajoran troublemakers, while you rape our
world
s, too!"
"Bajor got what it deserved!" Mekkar roared, plac-
ing his fists on the table and half rising from his seat.
"The only way to deal with terrorists is with total,
ruthless, merciless force! The old ways handled trou-
blemakers just fine!"
Sisko leaped to his feet. "Enough!" he cried. He had
never seen such a pack of spoiled children. "Let's take
a half hour break to cool our heads. This meeting is
recessed."
Sisko stalked from the room. He wanted to pound
the walls with his fists. Of all the obstructionist, petty,
and stupid things that had been going on throughout
these negotiations, Gul Mekkar's latest demands took
top prize. How could he even hope for peace with such
inflexible demands? And the Federation negotiators
weren't much better.
He turned and headed for the turbolift. An hour...
it wouldn't be nearly enough time, he thought, for
them to get over their petty, demanding ways. At this
rate, it would take years to settle the Maquis problem.
The turbolift doors opened; he got in. "Ops," he
said.
He rode in silence, reflecting on everything that had
happened. Hopefully Kira, Worf, and Odo were hav-
ing better luck, he thought. If their mission succeeded,
the urgency of settling the Maquis problem would be
over, and then the Cardassians could stop trying to
use it as an edge in the negotiating process.
When the lift doors opened, he stepped out and
surveyed Ops with an experienced eye. Everything
seemed normal here, he thought. All the stations were
manned, and nobody seemed to be running around in
a panic. He nodded. At least he could count on his
people to keep things running in times like these,
when he was too occupied to keep up on DS9's day-
by-day operations.
Dax spotted him and hurried over. She had a half
smile on her face that Sisko recognized as trouble. He
gave an inward groan. What now?
"What is it, Dax?" he asked. "Riots on the Prome-
nade? Bajoran terrorists threatening to blow up Gul
Mekkar and his delegation?"
"Worse," she said. "Vedek Werron and Dr. Bashir
are waiting for you in your office."
It was, Sisko decided, one of those days where
nothing went right. He'd hoped to avoid meeting with
Werron; his fanatical politics went beyond even Kai
Winn's.
"Thanks," he said. "Any other bad news?"
"No," she said with another smile. "But I'U let you
Star Trek - DS9 - Heart Of The Warrior - Book 17 Page 16