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

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by John Gregory Betancourt


  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

 

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