Demons of Air and Darkness

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  But the ideal meeting was short and to the point. Vaughn’s long years of experience had shown him that most meetings were neither, and were primarily an impediment to actually getting anything accomplished. One of the many—although lesser—reasons Vaughn had declined so many promotions over the years was the surety that a higher rank would result in more meetings.

  As he and Kira approached Quark’s bar, Ensign ch’Thane’s voice sounded through Kira’s combadge. “Ops to Colonel Kira.”

  Tapping her combadge, Kira said, “Go ahead, Shar.”

  “Colonel, we’re receiving detailed information from Europa Nova. It isn’t good, sir.”

  They entered the bar, occupied solely by a few civilians—including Morn in his usual seat toward one end of the bar. With the station at yellow alert, the Starfleet and Bajoran Militia personnel were either at their duty stations or on standby, and most of the rest of the station’s population probably felt safer on their ships or in their quarters.

  “Anything new I should know?” Kira asked as she walked up the tightly winding staircase to the second level.

  “They are primarily confirming the original distress call—theta radiation is appearing in orbit from an unknown point of origin and will reach lethal levels within fifty-two hours. The only new data is that the source of the radiation appears to be some kind of antimatter industrial waste.”

  Kira frowned. “That’s odd.”

  Vaughn searched his memory for anyone in the quadrant who still generated waste from their matterantimatter power sources, and couldn’t find any. Every warp-capable species he knew of that used such reactors had conquered the waste problem in fairly short order.

  “Lieutenant Bowers has rendezvoused with the Halloran. He reports no problems, and should be back within the hour. We’ve also received several odd reports in the usual dispatches.”

  “Odd in what way?” Kira asked.

  “Apparently, Orions have been sighted on Ferenginar, near the Grand Nagus’s home, the Deltans and Carreon have mutually broken their treaty in a manner that defies logic, there’s a medical crisis on Armus IX thanks to an unauthorized alien presence— the list is quite extensive, and has a common element of people not being where they should be.”

  “Keep a log of the odd reports, Shar,” Kira said. She and Vaughn arrived at the door to one of Quark’s holosuites on the bar’s third level. Nog was already there, making some adjustments to an outer panel. “We’re about to go into the meeting—maybe we’ll find out what this is all about. Kira out.” She looked at Nog and said, “Report.”

  “Just a second, sir.” Several seconds later, Nog stood up and turned off the polarizer he had been using. “It’s ready, Colonel. The connection to Starfleet Headquarters is functional. We just need them to activate it on their end.”

  “Any problems?”

  Nog gave a lopsided smile. “None, sir. My uncle’s off-station, after all.”

  Kira gave an equally lopsided smile in return.

  “I take it Quark would have been something of an impediment to using the holosuite this way,” Vaughn said dryly as he followed Kira through to the presently inactive holosuite.

  “A small one. He would’ve complained and asked for compensation and generally made a nuisance of himself—the usual. But, whatever Quark’s failings,” she said in a tone of voice that implied that she found those failings to be legion, “he’s a good Ferengi. His underlings are usually competent enough to keep the business from going under while he’s away, but not good enough to be a danger to his position as the boss.”

  “So they’re easy to intimidate.”

  Nodding, Kira said, “Especially by the son of the new Grand Nagus.”

  Nog’s voice came from over the intercom. “Signal coming in from Starfleet now, Colonel.”

  The holosuite environment didn’t change, but Vaughn suddenly found himself in a room full of red-trimmed uniforms, his ears assaulted by several simultaneous conversations all being piped in at once. It was as if a cocktail party had suddenly been beamed aboard the station. However, the noise almost immediately dropped to near-silence as people realized that they were “on.”

  In recent years, holographic technology had been refined to the point where it could be combined with subspace communication, allowing two people to converse while each appeared to be in the same room with the other, even though they were in fact separated by light-years. What Starfleet had done here was take that to the next step by linking the holocoms of various ships and starbases to the one at Starfleet HQ on Earth so that dozens of people from all across the quadrant could meet. Just as it appeared to him that these men and women were standing in the holosuite, Vaughn knew it appeared that they were all standing on the holodecks of each officer in attendance.

  All of those present were of command rank, but only one—William Ross—was from the admiralty. These are some of Starfleet’s most prominent leaders, he thought, but not the ones who run it. This is a room full of “doers.” Interesting.

  Just as interesting was Kira’s distinction within the gathering as the only non-Starfleet command officer present, her Bajoran Militia uniform standing out in stark contrast to the others. Vaughn knew there were those at Starfleet Command who were less than pleased with the idea of a non-Federation officer commanding Starfleet personnel and a facility as important as DS9 was strategically. As far as Vaughn was concerned, the naysayers were simply ignorant.

  Not this group, though. Kira had worn the Federation’s uniform once, he knew, during the final weeks of the Dominion War and under extraordinary circumstances. But Vaughn wondered how many in the meeting actually knew that, or if their clear and unflinching acceptance of Kira as part of this very special circle of officers stemmed rather from the strength of her reputation and her record. She stood next to him, her arms folded expectantly as she studied the faces of the other officers, exchanging nods with the few that she knew, secure in her own authority and ready to get down to business. Not for the first time, Vaughn found himself uncharacteristically impressed with his commanding officer.

  For his part, Vaughn knew most of the people in the room personally, including Captain Solok of the T’Kumbra (not a bad ship commander, as Vaughn recalled, but something of a jerk personally); Commander Ju’les L’ullho of Starbase 96; and Captain Walter Emick of the Intrepid. A few—Captain Elizabeth Shelby of the Trident; Captain Elaine Mello of the Gryphon; and Captain Mackenzie Calhoun of the Excalibur —he knew only by reputation. Some, of course, had more of a reputation than others, and Calhoun’s was fairly bizarre. He had, Vaughn knew, done quite a bit of work for Admiral Nechayev’s little corner of Starfleet Intelligence. Vaughn had thought that Calhoun was a bit too much of a loose cannon for that kind of work, but Alynna seemed to find him useful. Calhoun was also supported by Jean-Luc Picard and intensely disliked by Edward Jellico, both points in his favor.

  Speaking of Jean-Luc, the Enterprise captain stood in the center of the room next to Bill Ross. Picard seemed strangely unreadable as he surveyed the gathering, but Ross had a hangdog look that spoke more than anything to the gravity of the situation. The admiral hadn’t looked this bad since the worst days of the Dominion War.

  “Good afternoon,” Ross said. Gestures and muttered returned greetings filled the room momentarily before he went on. “It’s nice to know our relay systems are fine-tuned enough to allow holoconferences like this to occur. It certainly beats trying to find parking orbits for all of you.” Ross attempted a smile, but the joke fell flat. “I’m placing you all on yellow alert until further notice.”

  Next to him, Kira’s eyes smoldered. Vaughn immediately recognized her “gee-how-brilliant-of-Starfleettodo-something-I-already-thought-of” expression.

  Ross continued. “As for why we’re doing this, we have a new problem. A few days ago, the Federation Council was approached by a group of beings who identified themselves as the Iconians.”

  Vaughn watched the reactions of the others around
the holosuite. Some nodded in understanding—ones probably familiar with the two on-record Iconian encounters and/or the legends that had surrounded that ancient, and supposedly extinct, species—others looked confused, still others asked people off-circuit to check up on the name.

  Once the brief commotion settled down, Ross turned to the Enterprise captain. Vaughn remembered that Jean-Luc had always had a fascination for Iconian legend. “Captain Picard, would you please detail what we know of the Iconians?”

  “Of course, Admiral. The Iconians were known to exist in this quadrant of space some two hundred millennia ago. Their culture and technology were unparalleled in that time period but records about them are scant. About a decade ago, Captain Donald Varley of the U.S.S. Yamato determined the location of their homeworld in the Romulan Neutral Zone, but was lost along with his ship when a destructive Iconian computer program inserted itself into the Yamato’s mainframe. Even after all that time, the technology on the homeworld remained functional—including the gateways.

  “These gateways provide instantaneous transport between two points that could be meters or light-years apart. Two functional gateways have been found over the last few years: one on the homeworld, which I myself destroyed rather than allow gateway technology to fall into Romulan hands; and one discovered by the Dominion in the Gamma Quadrant, which was destroyed by a joint Starfleet/Jem’Hadar team from the U.S.S. Defiant.”

  Ross nodded. “Thank you, Captain. The Iconians who have come forward now have offered us the gateway technology for a price. The Council is considering the offer, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. First, they are offering the technology to the highest bidder. Similar offers have been made to governments throughout the quadrant. Clearly, this could have a devastating impact should any antagonistic or ambitious government obtain the technology exclusively.

  “Second, and most immediate: the Iconians have chosen to demonstrate how useful the gateways can be by activating the entire network. Gateways have opened up all over the quadrant and beyond. The Iconians have seen fit to withhold how to control them and have chosen not to provide us with any form of useful map.”

  Once again a brief commotion broke out, as the officers present reacted to the news. Vaughn scratched his salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully. That, he thought, would explain the Halloran and all those odd reports of Shar’s. And, quite probably, what’s happening to Europa Nova.

  “As the gateways came online,” Ross continued, silencing the group, “we immediately began studying their output, trying to get a handle on how they work.”

  As Ross spoke, another figure came in. Vaughn almost smiled. This was another captain, and probably the only human in the room older than Vaughn himself.

  “We became rather alarmed at some of the readings, and so turned the study over to the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. We now have a preliminary report.” Turning to the new arrival, he said, “Captain Scott, thank you for joining us.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Montgomery Scott said, after giving a quick, affectionate glance to Picard. Vaughn remembered that the Enterprise rescued Captain Scott from the U.S.S. Jenolen, where he’d been trapped in a sort of suspended animation for over seven decades as a transporter pattern. In the years since, the man out of time had traveled far and wide and performed a variety of tasks; most recently, however, he’d been assigned to serve as the liaison between the Starfleet Corps of Engineers and the admiralty.

  Scott continued. “Those gateways, to be blunt, are behavin’ in ways we never imagined. It seems that when they exhaust their power, they tap into any other power supply that’s available. Like pussy willows here on Earth, that seek water and break into pipes to find it. These gateways are so beyond our ken tha’ figuring out how they tick and stoppin’ them will be almost impossible.”

  “Do you mean, they could tap an entire planet’s resources and drain them dry?” Ross asked.

  Scott took a deep breath. “Aye. Worse, for those worlds using predominantly geothermal or hydraulic power. Their ecosystem could be compromised. We don’t have all the figures in yet, but one o’ my ships is measuring solar consumption. My fear is some stars might be destabilized by additional power demands. It’s a very nasty bit o’ business.”

  Turning back to the assembled commanders, Ross said, “All the more reason for us to mobilize the fleet. Duty packets are going out now with specific sector assignments. We’ll need to maintain the peace. Some of our scientific vessels will be working with the S.C.E. to determine just how severe the problems might become. Captain Solok, I will want you and your crew to begin monitoring all incident reports from gateway activity. If the Iconians won’t give us a map, I want us to make one.”

  Speaking gravely, the Vulcan captain said, “Under stood. I should point out that it will not be complete and therefore not entirely accurate.”

  “Noted,” Ross said. “I’ll take whatever we can get since it’s better than the nothing we have right now.”

  Ross then looked directly at Vaughn and Kira. “Colonel, Commander, our scientists have done some preliminary mapping based on the gateway power signatures and we’ve discovered something very interesting out your way. We’re estimating no gateway activity within ten light-years in any direction of Bajor.”

  Interesting, Vaughn thought. Europa Nova’s ten light-years from here. Aloud, he said, “The wormhole.”

  “We think so, yes.”

  Kira said, “It could be the Prophets protecting this region.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility. Vaughn, given your experience with the gateways, I want you out there, finding out why there aren’t any gateways near Bajor. Is it something natural? Is it the doing of the aliens—that is to say, the Prophets?” he amended with a conciliatory glance at Kira. “What properties are being displayed, and can they be harnessed beyond your sector?”

  “You’re hoping we can turn it into a practical countermeasure.”

  “Exactly.”

  Picard then said the words that Vaughn had been half-expecting from the moment the Iconians were mentioned. “I was unaware, Admiral, of any encounters with gateways beyond those by the Enterprise and the Defiant.”

  Next to him, Kira was giving Vaughn a rather penetrating gaze. “Neither was I.”

  “It was a few years ago,” Vaughn said neutrally. The mission to Alexandra’s Planet had been classified, and Vaughn had yet to be given any reason to disregard that.

  Ross gave Picard a reassuring look. “The relevant portions of Commander Vaughn’s mission will be declassified in light of the present emergency.”

  Picard nodded. “Good.”

  Vaughn gave Kira a quick nod that he hoped matched Ross for reassurance. Kira seemed dubious, but willing to table any further discussion.

  Particularly since there were more pressing matters. “Admiral,” she said, “we have another problem. Europa Nova is suffering a planetwide catastrophe, possibly a result of this gateway problem. Some kind of antimatter waste field is appearing in orbit, seemingly out of nowhere. We need to evacuate the settlement immediately, and we’re going to need the Defiant and as many more ships as possible to assist. The Tcha’voth and the Makluan were recalled suddenly, so we’re even more shorthanded. Lieutenant Dax is assembling a task force of Bajoran and civilian ships, but—”

  “Say no more, Colonel. We’re aware of the situation on Europa Nova. There’s a Federation Councillor there right now negotiating with their parliament, and we received the same distress call you did. Since the Klingons and Romulans have recalled their ships, I’ve assigned the Gryphon and the Intrepid to be at your disposal.” Turning to Captains Mello and Emick, he asked, “Captains, your ETAs?”

  “Two and a half hours, Admiral,” said Captain Mello, a short, robust woman with a round face and curly brown hair. The Gryphon had delivered the Defiant’ s replacement warhead module over a week ear lier, but Vaughn hadn’t had the chance to meet her captain then.

  Captain Emick—a man
who came from a long line of Starfleet officers dating back to the founding of the organization—turned to Kira and said, “DS9 is actually on our way there, so with your permission, Colonel?” Kira nodded. “The Intrepid will rendezvous with the Defiant in two hours.”

  “Good,” Ross said. “I only ask that you hold back one runabout to investigate the wormhole, Colonel.”

  Kira inclined her head. “Of course, Admiral. The Sungari will handle it as soon as it returns from the Gamma Quadrant.”

  At Ross’s frown—at present, only the Defiant had authorization to go through the wormhole—Vaughn quickly explained the situation with the Halloran.

  “Understood. Keep us posted on Europa Nova.” Ross then turned to Captain Calhoun and started to detail the Excalibur’ s assignment.

  Vaughn looked at Kira with a raised eyebrow; she inclined her head, and the commander then stepped aside so he wouldn’t disturb the rest of the meeting. Kira would keep track of what was going on while her first officer started getting all the balls that needed rolling into motion. Possibly Ross might have preferred that the highest-ranking Starfleet officer on Deep Space 9 be the one to participate in all aspects of the meeting, but, Bajoran Militia or not, Kira was in charge.

  Besides, Vaughn really hated meetings.

  “Vaughn to Dax.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Lieutenant, add the Intrepid and the Gryphon to our list and take the Sungari off it. As soon as Lieu tenant Bowers returns with the Halloran, have the runabout prepped for Lieutenant Nog and Ensign ch’Thane to take it back to the wormhole. And assemble the senior staff in ops. The colonel and I will meet you there shortly.”

  “Yes, sir. Uhm—Starfleet’s only sending two ships?”

  “That’s correct, Lieutenant.”

  “I take it there’s more going on than just Europa Nova’s crisis?”

  Vaughn turned and looked back at the meeting. Calhoun had apparently just cracked a joke, and several of the assembled officers guffawed—pointedly, Bill Ross was not among those laughing. “Quite a bit more, yes.”