Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #9: Cardassian Imps

by Mel Gilden

  “We mine Keithorpheum.”

  “I am delighted for you. Leave it on your ship or face the consequences.”

  One of the creatures growled in what must have been agreement because they took their latinum and their dust and walked out. Odo alerted his security crew that the Trulgovians were on their way to their ship. He wanted to make sure they arrived without mishap.

  Quark wandered over and watched the Trulgovians leave. “Not our usual crisis, is it?” he said.

  “Be grateful for small favors,” Odo said, and walked out.

  Level forty-five was not quite the bottom of the habitat ring, but it was very far away from the places Jake and Nog normally frequented. Even the ride on the turbolift took a long time. It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, but to Jake the journey downward seemed to take hours.

  When the turbolift doors hissed open they could smell level forty-five even before they saw it. The air had an unpleasant smell that was old and musty—the smell of long-gone Cardassians.

  They peered out of the turbolift. The lights that ran along the walls near the ceiling seemed old and weak, yet they cast shadows of struts and beams that were so dark they seemed to be not shadows at all but solid objects. The puffs of faintly glowing mold that grew everywhere looked like tribble colonies. Here and there stood a piece of abandoned equipment. Deck and bulkhead plates were missing in a few places, revealing cable and conduits and junction boxes.

  Not far away something made a rustling noise. What kind of creatures lived down here? And did they like their little boys with or without ketchup?

  The turbolift beeped at them, impatient to be about its work. Still, the two boys stayed aboard.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Nog said.

  “It looks haunted, doesn’t it?” Jake said.

  “Haunted?” Nog whispered. “By what? Cardassian ghosts?”

  “There are no such things as ghosts,” Jake said, sorry he’d mentioned it. The turbolift beeped again.

  “What’s that noise?” Nog asked.

  “Turbolift?” Jake suggested, hoping to lighten the proceedings.

  “If you wish to go somewhere else,” the turbolift said, making both boys jump, “please state your destination. Otherwise, please exit the car.”

  “Look at this,” Jake said. He stepped off the car and knelt to investigate something on the floor.

  “What?” Nog asked, and stepped into the corridor to join him. With a finality Jake found distressing, the turbolift doors immediately slid shut. “Get it back! Get it back!” Nog cried as he leaped from one foot to the other.

  “Before we’ve had our adventure?” Jake asked, trying to sound brave. “Are you kidding?”

  “‘K’lshi: Klingon House of Terror’ is more my speed,” Nog said. “I like an adventure I can turn off if I want to.”

  Jake touched the floor and his finger came away sparkling.

  “What is it?” Nog asked despite his fears.

  “It’s Keithorpheum—the stuff those aliens brought into your uncle’s bar.”

  “The air recirculators must have blown it all over the station by now,” Nog said.

  “I hope it’s as harmless as Dax said,” Jake said as he stood up.

  “Me too.”

  They walked slowly down the corridor. The air recirculators continued to hiss down here as they did in busier parts of the station, but otherwise it was silent. Jake missed the footsteps, the gabble of voices, and the electronic noises that generally filled his universe.

  “Too quiet,” Jake said.

  “I prefer quiet to screams of pain,” Nog replied. “Listen.”

  Jake strained, and momentarily envied his friend’s enormous ears. “I hear running water,” he said with amazement.

  “Running? Where? From what?”

  “Like in a river,” Jake said.

  “I never heard of a river on DS9.”

  Nog was right. In Jake’s experience, water appeared where it was needed, created by replicators from seed atoms.

  A moment later, in the sweat of discovery, they forgot the mysterious sound.

  “Look,” Nog said as he approached a big window. “It’s a store.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said as he glanced around. “There are a lot of stores. It looks kind of like another Promenade.” The window was empty except for dust and a few dead insects that the Starfleet personnel called flies; except that these flies were round and flew using air pressure they compressed inside their own bodies.

  “We’re not going to find anything down here,” Nog said. “Let’s go.” He hustled down the corridor toward the turbolift.

  “Go back if you want to,” Jake said as he headed in the other direction, figuring that Nog would follow sooner or later. He stopped at the edge of an impenetrable lake of shadow that spread around a corner.

  “Come on, Nog, I need your flashlight.”

  Nog cried out, keening in that peculiar way the Ferengi did when they were in trouble.

  Jake ran to him and found Nog tangled in a bank of wires that hung from the ceiling. Nog was fighting with the wires as he shrieked, making matters much worse.

  “Nog!” Jake cried. Nog came near punching him in the face a time or two as he thrashed around. “Nog!” Jake cried again,and tried to grab his hands. “They’re just wires!”

  Nog stopped shrieking, which was a relief, and then he quieted down enough to allow Jake to untangle him. “Why do you get so excited?” Jake asked irritably.

  “I thought it was one of those Cardassian ghosts.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. It was only some old wires.”

  “I see that now. I’m not blind.”

  Jake saw no point in arguing. “Bring your flashlight over here. I want to show you something.”

  “And then we’ll leave,” Nog said.

  “Right.”

  Nog brought his flashlight, and aimed it into the shadow. To their surprise, what Jake had found was not just a lake of shadow, but an actual lake. Bubbling up slowly from its center was black sludge that gave off purple highlights where the flashlight’s beam touched it. To one side of the seep was a small creature caught in the sludge, which was apparently as sticky as it looked. As it fought the heavy, gluey stuff, the creature let out a soft, breathy whistle.

  “What is it?” Jake asked.

  “All I know is what I heard at Quark’s. A Dabo girl told a customer that there are a lot of creatures who live down on the abandoned levels that we never see higher up. Let’s go.” He grabbed Jake’s arm with one hand and turned away.

  “No,” Jake said firmly as he removed Nog’s hand.

  “We have to save it.” He looked around desperately for a piece of equipment that might help.

  “Why? Given the chance, it would probably eat us.”

  “We don’t know that.” Jake found a long piece of pipe. “Come on, Nog. Lend a hand,” he said as he dragged it toward the lake. The length of pipe was heavy and hard to manage.

  Nog helped Jake maneuver the pipe out over the lake. They held it down where the creature could grab it with its tiny paws. It hung onto the pipe with all six of its legs, and looked at them with three big round eyes that reflected what little light there was.

  “He’s kind of cute,” Jake said.

  “So is that razor chipmunk Mrs. O’Brien told us about a few weeks ago.”

  Chief O’Brien’s wife taught school when she could gather enough students to make even a small class. When only Jake and Nog were available, she tutored them in her home. The razor chipmunk she’d told them about was a soft furry creature no bigger than a house cat. It had large eyes and made a pleasing sound. But when caught by a predator—which it seemed to think was anybody who wasn’t another razor chipmunk—sharp spines sprang out of its body. The spines were sharp enough to cut off a hand.

  “Let’s drop it on the other side of the lake,” Nog suggested.

  “That seems mean. What if it’s lonesome?”


  “What if it’s hungry?”

  Still upside down, the creature climbed toward them paw over paw. The closer it got, the less sure Jake was that he wanted to take a chance on the creature’s intentions.

  “Right,” Jake said. Helping a creature was one thing. Being a fool was another. Together, they ran the pipe out to its full length and barely managed to set the creature down on a dry level place. As they pulled the pipe back to their side of the lake, the creature sat down at the far edge and looked at them. A moment later it scurried into the darkness.

  “There,” Nog said. “You see? It’s safe. We’re safe.”

  “I guess,” Jake said, still not entirely convinced.

  “Well,” Nog said and rubbed his hands together, “unless you have a plan for crossing this puddle, I guess we’ve gone about as far as we can go.”

  Jake thought Nog sounded pretty happy about the turn of events. And the truth was, level forty-five seemed much less interesting and required much more work than Garak had led them to believe. If his plan had been to get them out of the way for a while, he’d succeeded. Any other motive made no sense.

  “All right,” Jake said.

  As they walked back to the turbolift, Jake pointed the beam of his flashlight here and there, still hoping that they would find something more interesting than dangling wires, wild animals, and sludge. Nog was shining his flashlight around too.

  “Have a look at this, Jake.”

  Jake joined Nog in front of a store that seemed as empty as all the others.

  “Look,” Nog said, and used the beam of his flashlight to point out something on the floor just inside the doorway.

  “It looks like a doll,” Jake said. “A Cardassian doll.”

  “Females play with dolls,” Nog said with contempt.

  “We came down here to investigate,” Jake said as he entered the store. “Let’s investigate.” He stood over the toy figure and shined his flashlight at it.

  The toy figure was obviously supposed to represent a Cardassian—it had the bumpy, lizardlike skin, and the ropelike muscles and tendons supporting the neck. But it also had four wings, a pair of antennae, and a long snaky tail. In its hands it held a view screen in the shape of the characteristic Cardassian oval. On the view screen, each in its own smaller oval, was a holopicture of an object.

  “I’ve never seen a Cardassian with wings,” Nog said.

  “Me neither,” Jake said.

  “What do you think it’s doing here?”

  Jake had the sense that Nog was asking questions to put off the inevitable moment when they would pick up the toy figure. Nog was obviously distrustful, and Jake had to admit that he was too. Cardassian things were always strange and frequently dangerous. Still, how dangerous could a toy figure be?

  “The Cardassians left pretty quick. Maybe they left it by accident.” He bent to pick up the toy figure.

  “Moop!” the toy figure said when Jake touched it. Jake was so surprised, he almost dropped it.

  “Moop?” Nog asked.

  “Yeah. It’s a Cardassian word meaning moop,” Jake explained.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s just a joke, Nog.”

  “I’ll never understand hu-man humor.”

  “And I’ll never understand the Rules of Acquisition. Look at this.”

  Jake turned the toy figure around so they could both see the screen. On it was an array of small ovals, each one containing an object. In the upper left-hand corner was something that looked like a fish with a definite Cardassian appearance. It was well-armored, and had little knobs and hooks all over its body; a mean-looking whip grew out of its tail. Next to it was a piece of machinery covered with buttons.

  “What’s that?” Nog asked.

  “Musical instrument?” Jake guessed. “Surveying gear? Who knows?” Jake was fascinated by the air of mystery and danger around the Cardassian toy, if that’s what it was. Next to the piece of machinery was a nasty but serviceable-looking dagger. It had heavy serrations and extra blades that stuck out from the handle, reminding Jake of Klingon ceremonial blades he’d seen.

  “Quite a toad-sticker,” Jake said as he pointed to the dagger. He remembered his father’s comment about the Klingon blades.

  “Yeah,” Nog said, and put out his finger to touch the weapon.

  When he did, the lights dimmed, and the constant hum of the air recirculators slowed. “Moop,” the toy figure said at the same moment, and the dagger seemed to leap off the screen. The boys shrank back as it clattered to the floor between them. The light returned to its usual intensity as did the sound of the air recirculators.

  Nog picked up the dagger and studied it as he turned it over.

  “It’s not a toy,” Jake cried. “It’s a replicator.”

  “A toy replicator,” Nog said. “And it replicates good stuff. Not like the boring machines up on the Promenade.” He seemed fascinated by the dagger, and he poked the point into his thumb to see how sharp it was.

  “Careful,” Jake said.

  “I don’t feel a thing,” Nog said as he poked himself again and again with increasing vigor.

  “Let me see,” Jake said. He took the dagger from Nog and tried the experiment himself. He found that wherever it touched him, the blade evaporated. The blade reappeared as he pulled it away from his skin.

  “Not much of a weapon,” Nog concluded.

  “Maybe it’s not a real weapon,” Jake said. “Maybe it’s a toy.”

  “I don’t usually think of Cardassians playing with toys.”

  “Why not? I hear Cardassians have kids. Kids play with toys.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nog said. “Not much chance for profit selling toys on a space station where you can’t find enough kids to make a baseball team.”

  Under the enthusiastic influence of Jake and Commander Sisko, Nog had developed quite an interest in baseball. “Let’s go back.”

  “Profit isn’t everything,” Jake said, aware that such pronouncements probably did not impress Nog. Being a Ferengi, Nog had memorized most of the Rules of Acquisition as soon as he could read.

  Near the blade on the screen were gobs of stuff that might have been food. Jake was going to touch the picture.

  “Are you going to eat it?” Nog asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jake admitted. “I want to see what it smells like first.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time,” Nog advised. “It’s not only Cardassian food, it’s fake Cardassian food.”

  While Jake was still considering that, Nog took the Moop toy figure from him and was about to touch the screen again.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore,” Jake said.

  “Why not?” Nog said, his finger poised over a Cardassian animal similar to the one they’d saved from the sludge.

  “Because when that little statue replicated the toy knife, the lights dimmed and the air recirculators slowed down.”

  “Maybe the Moop toy figure is supposed to do that. Besides, you know that DS9 doesn’t run too well at the best of times. Just ask Chief O’Brien.” Nog laughed.

  “And at the moment,” Jake added, “the station is full of that sparkly Keithorpheum.” He found that his curiosity about the Moop toy figure overcame his concern about the station.

  “Right,” Nog said. He seemed to lose interest in the animal because instead of touching it into existence, he touched a circle showing a Cardassian warship. The toy figure went “Moop,” and three ships sailed out into the air. The boys put up their arms and ducked as the ships began a dogfight, firing phasers and photon torpedoes at each other. One by one the ships disappeared in balls of flame that gave no heat and left no trace. The winning ship just flew through a bulkhead and was gone.

  The boys exclaimed their appreciation. Jake grabbed the toy figure away from Nog and studied the array of small pictures. It was his turn to make something really good—at least as good as the dogfighting Cardassian ships.

  “Look,” Jake s
aid, and pointed to a figure much like the Moop statue itself.

  “Touch it quick,” Nog cried. “Then we can each have one.”

  Nog’s idea sounded so good that Jake immediately touched the screen.

  “Moop,” the toy figure said.

  The Moop toy figure leaped off the screen. But the thing that now stood before them was no doll-size statue. It was nearly as tall as Nog. It put its hands on its hips and spoke to them.

  CHAPTER 4

  Commander Sisko was draining the last of his most recent cup of raktajino when Major Kira and Chief O’Brien asked to see him. They seemed worried.

  “What is it?” Sisko asked as he put the empty cup aside.

  “Power output of our fusion reactor is down four percent.”

  “Is that significant?” Sisko asked.

  “Not ordinarily,” O’Brien said, “Cardassian feedback loops being what they are. What worries me is that sensors indicate that the power conduits are clogged. The clogging is causing the deficiency, and it’s getting worse.”

  “Clogged with what?” Sisko said.

  Kira and O’Brien glanced at each other.

  “What?” Sisko said.

  “The power conduits seem to be clogged with Keithorpheum,” Kira said.

  “What? That stuff two of Quark’s customers brought in?”

  “It would seem so,” Kira said, obviously uncomfortable.

  “Odo says he sent them back to their ship.”

  “I suspect,” O’Brien explained darkly, “by the time he did that, the damage had already been done.”

  Sisko frowned into his empty raktajino cup. “How did the Keithorpheum get in the power conduits?”

  “It’s everywhere,” O’Brien said. He ran his finger along Sisko’s desk and held it up for inspection. His fingertip was covered with golden dust.

  Sisko ran his own finger over the desk and stared with growing anger at the dust he picked up. “Are the air recirculators maintaining?”

  “So far,” O’Brien said. “But I don’t know how long that’ll be true even with my hyperscrubbers on maximum. The funny part is that they seem to be doing their job.”