Swannig nodded. "It's a pretty neat little program. I'd recommend that we keep and dissect it for possible later use."
Sisko eyed him with ill-concealed distaste, and saw Dax hide a sudden and fugitive smile. Technicians, he thought, and said, "Have you cleaned it out of the systems, Swannig?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Swannig answered. "We reinstalled everything, and I have the copies on an isolated machine."
"All right," Sisko said. "Carry on."
"Very good, sir," Swannig said, and turned away.
Sisko let the office door close behind him before he spoke again. "So. Diaadul installed it, do you think?"
Dax nodded thoughtfully. "That would make sense, Commander. I'm nearly positive she was the one to install the accounting ghosts, and this would be consistent with that."
That was a relief, and Sisko allowed himself a long sigh. The thought of screening DS9's population for possible agents had not been a pleasant one. "So they made that attack to kidnap Kira and O'Brien?" He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense."
"Or to pick up Diaadul," Dax said. "Odo said she was clearly important."
"But why, if they were expecting to get those parts from the smugglers, did they then go to the effort of kidnapping two of my officers?" Sisko said. "They must expect retaliation."
Dax looked up suddenly, her eyes gleaming. "Unless—"
"Unless this was a backup plan," Sisko said.
Dax nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on the screen. "There were machine parts in the ship, things that could be converted to starship use—"
"—and Helios was pretty obviously damaged," Sisko finished for her. "So. Did Diaadul intend from the first to kidnap O'Brien, or was it just a lucky accident?"
"I don't think Helios and her captain leave much to chance," Dax said, suddenly sober.
Sisko nodded slowly, his own momentary elation vanishing. Whether it was serendipity or a well-made plan hardly mattered: O'Brien, and Kira, were still missing.
As if to confirm his thoughts, a light flashed on his desktop, and Odo's voice spoke from the speaker. "Odo to Sisko."
"Sisko here. Any luck?"
"None," Odo answered, and Sisko thought he heard more than the usual impatience in the constable's voice. But then, he thought, in his own way, Odo is almost fond of Kira. . . . "We've searched sector nine thoroughly, and are extending our efforts to sectors eight and ten. But I don't expect to find them on board, sir."
"Probably not," Sisko agreed. "We have indications that someone transported to Helios from the station during the attack run. It's likely that Kira and O'Brien were taken."
He heard a faint sound from the communicator, almost as though Odo had growled. He paused, but heard nothing more, and went on, "I want you to detail enough men to search the station completely, top to bottom. We'll remain at yellow alert until you're finished. I want to be absolutely certain that our people aren't lying somewhere hurt—and I want to be sure we don't have any unwanted visitors."
Odo didn't answer at once, and Sisko imagined him staring into space, preparing a protest at his commander's stupidity. But Odo's answer, when it came, was perfectly mild. "I'll organize that at once, Commander. And inform you when it's finished."
"Good. Sisko out." Sisko looked at Dax. "In the meantime, let's see if we can track down that damned pirate."
Though they worked hard for the next two hours, even the most careful scanning showed no sign of the Helios's wave emissions. Sisko accepted the twentieth negative report without a change of expression, and said to the Bajoran technician who brought the report, "Keep looking."
"Commander, the constable reports that the search parties have reached the Promenade, and there's still no sign of either our people or Diaadul," another Bajoran said.
Sisko said, "Tell the constable thank you, and carry on." He saw Dax turn away from her console, frowning slightly, and his own brows contracted in a scowl. "And, yes, Lieutenant, we will stay at yellow alert until it's done."
"Yes, sir," Dax said, with an abstracted air. "Sir, we're receiving a subspace transmission. Its point of origin is just beyond our borders."
Sisko swore under his breath. He had been more than half expecting the Cardassians to show up, to make his life complete; he supposed he should be grateful it was only via subspace radio. "Put it on the main viewer, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir," Dax answered. "Putting it through to the main viewer."
The screen lit, glowed briefly reddish brown before a familiar head and shoulders appeared in its center. Gul Dukat stared out from the screen, his lips curved into a smile that moved the heavy facial ridges, but did not reach his eyes. "Commander Sisko," he said. "How relieved I am to see you're still with us."
I'm sure, Sisko thought. He said, "Gul Dukat. I'm—touched—by your concern." He paused, and when the Cardassian showed no sign of continuing, said heavily, "To what do we owe the honor of this call?"
"As you know, our fleet has been tracking a dangerous pirate, one we've been chasing for some time. We've spotted that ship off your station, Commander—you were fortunate to come to no harm." Dukat's smile widened briefly, baring teeth. "We are in pursuit of that ship, and in earnest of our continued peaceful intentions toward the Federation, I am informing you personally of our intention to continue to pursue it into Federation space as necessary."
Sisko opened his mouth to answer, and Dukat held up his hand.
"Please, Commander, this is a purely internal affair. Our only concern is Helios; we want to prevent her captain from taking her through the wormhole, and, of course, to capture her and her crew if possible."
"And if not?" Sisko asked, before the Cardassian could go on.
"My orders are to destroy her," Dukat answered. "My orders also instruct me to consider any interference from Deep Space Nine, or from any of Starfleet, as if it were aid given to Helios—that is, as an act of war."
"Two of my people have been taken prisoner, and are currently being held on Helios," Sisko said. "We're taking all measures to secure their release. I hereby request that you hold off until they're freed."
"Your—carelessness—can hardly be considered my concern," Dukat said. "We have our orders."
"Your situation can hardly be considered hot pursuit," Sisko objected. "Besides, there's no reason to assume that Helios hasn't already returned to Cardassian space."
"You're stalling, Commander," Dukat said, with another toothed smile that went oddly with his gentle voice. "I intend to pursue Helios and capture or destroy it. And I repeat, the Cardassian Empire will consider any interference with my mission as an act of war." He lifted his hand, obviously signaling to an off screen subordinate, and the image vanished.
"Transmission ends, sir," a technician said.
Sisko nodded, still staring at the blank screen. The worst thing was, Dukat was right: he had been stalling, and not doing it very well. I have two people prisoner on the pirate, he thought, and another four hundred on the station, all of whom are my responsibility, but my orders…He smiled suddenly, unaware of the sudden curious looks of the crew in Ops. My orders are to take Helios myself. His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. My orders…To obey is to risk O'Brien and Kira's lives, which is their job and mine. That's well and good, and I could do—something—to hold the Cardassians back. But that would mean putting DS9 in the center of a major battle, a battle it and I can't win. And that is something I cannot, will not risk. No matter what my orders.
CHAPTER 10
O'BRIEN STRUGGLED BACK to consciousness, his head aching, body tingling with the aftereffects of a stun blast. Something was very wrong; he was aware of that in the first instant, and killed his instinctive desire to sit up and look around. He lay still instead, eyes shut, and listened. The hiss of air in the ventilators sounded different, more like a starship than the station's system —and not like a Federation ship, either, he added, silently. There was something in the faint sounds of the ship's systems, a stuttering rumble almost at
the edge of hearing, that confirmed his suspicions: whatever the ship was—and there was really only one likely possibility—it was neither Federation-built, nor in perfect repair.
He let his head fall to one side, still feigning unconsciousness, and opened one eye a crack. Bright light jabbed at him, and it took all his strength to keep from wincing. And then his sight cleared, and he could see the red-brown stuff of the mattress cover—he was lying on a bunk, he realized—and then, beyond that, the purple-glowing lattice of a forcefield that ran across the mouth of what could only be a cell. There were three figures beyond the forcefield: Diaadul, now dressed in work clothes and looking for the first time like the dangerous person she truly was, and two strangers. One of them was human, thin and brown-haired; the other was tall and broad-shouldered, not human, but not a species O'Brien recognized at a glance.
He closed his eye again, slowly, not wanting to draw their attention until he felt a little stronger, and tried to work out exactly how he'd gotten here. Where "here" was was no problem: "here" had to be Helios, and at least one of the men had to be her captain, Kolovzon, but how he'd been brought aboard he didn't know. He remembered Diaadul signaling Helios, announcing her two packages for pickup, but then his memories grew more chaotic. Kira had burst through the door, and then—
He twitched in spite of himself, remembering the shock of the phaser bolt, and knew he'd betrayed himself. He shifted his weight, rolling his head away from the barricaded door, and opened his eyes again, this time to the pale dull gold of a lightly padded wall. What had happened to Kira—?
"Chief O'Brien."
That was Diaadul's voice, and O'Brien held himself motionless for an instant, wondering how he should respond. He let his head roll back to face the forcefield. All three of the strangers were still there, though the nonhuman male had taken a step forward, so that he was a little in advance of the others.
"Good to see you're with us, Chief," the nonhuman male said. "Welcome to the Helios."
So tell me something I don't know, O'Brien thought. He didn't respond at once, but levered himself cautiously into a sitting position. The headache was receding quickly, though the pins-and-needles stinging his hands was still frighteningly present—but once that goes, he thought, I've got a chance. In the meantime, let's play sick. I need all the advantages I can pry out of the situation. He mumbled something, pleased with the tremulous sound of his own voice, and put both hands to his face, looking out through the barrier of his fingers. "What the hell—?"
"You're on board the Helios," Diaadul said. "Our prisoner."
"And Kira?" O'Brien demanded. He took his hands away from his eyes, fixed the woman with an angry stare.
The nonhuman grinned, showing teeth, but Diaadul said, flatly, "In the next cell. Stunned, but unhurt."
"I want to see her," O'Brien said.
The nonhuman's grin widened. "That can be arranged, Chief. On conditions, of course."
O'Brien pushed himself to his feet, his original plan forgotten, overridden by his concern for Kira, and came forward until he stood only centimeters from the opening and the softly spitting forcefield. This close, he could hear the faint hum of its generators, and the hairs on his arms stirred, lifted by the electricity. It was obviously a powerful field, and he was careful to keep his hands well away from its purplish glow. "What conditions, Kolovzon?"
"You know me," the nonhuman said.
Up close, O'Brien could see the slit-pupilled eyes, like Diaadul's, and the same oddly delicate length to his fingers: another Trehanna, then. He nodded. "I've heard your name."
"That may simplify things," Kolovzon said. "Your Commander Sisko has very seriously inconvenienced me, Mr. O'Brien. I have no interest whatsoever in your station, but he's seen fit to interfere with a shipment of parts and software that I need to repair my ship."
"That's what Diaadul came for," O'Brien said, when it became clear that some answer was expected of him. There was a look in Kolovzon's eyes, a fey lightness, that made him very nervous.
"That's right," Kolovzon answered, and for a second, O'Brien thought the Trehanna sounded almost approving. "Since your commander has blocked that shipment, however, I have no choice but to get my repairs done by other means. Such as yourself, Chief O'Brien."
"You can go to hell," O'Brien said. "I'm not helping you—"
Kolovzon lifted a hand. "I think you will want to reconsider your position," he said, and O'Brien shook his head.
"You can't force me to work for you. Not without doing me enough damage that I won't be able to do the work."
"How fortunate," Kolovzon said, "that we won't have to rely on direct intimidation. Diaadul, you did well, bringing the Bajoran."
"Thank you, Captain," Diaadul murmured, her face expressionless.
The human male stirred at Kolovzon's side. "Captain—"
"Your protest is noted, Jarriel." Kolovzon looked back at O'Brien, the slitted pupils suddenly fixed unblinkingly on the prisoner. "You're quite correct, it would be very difficult to judge the application of physical force correctly—as you say, one runs the risk of doing more hurt than one intends, and the prisoner has too much chance of incapacitating himself. However, I'm under no such restraints where Major Kira is concerned. You have a simple choice, Mr. O'Brien. You can either help repair Helios, or you can watch the Bajoran die, as slowly and as painfully as I can manage."
O'Brien stared back at him, momentarily silenced by the appalling clarity of his threat, and heard someone moving beyond the wall to his left.
"Chief, don't do it," Kira called. She sounded shaky, but otherwise none the worse for being stunned. Kolovzon ignored her, still watching O'Brien. "Well, Chief?"
O'Brien swallowed hard, tasting bile. He had absolutely no doubt that the Trehanna meant exactly what he said, and there was no way he could stand by and watch Kolovzon torture Kira. "All right," he said, and heard himself sullen and reluctant. "All right."
Kolovzon nodded slowly. "You understand, of course, that any attempt to escape—any attempt to make any sort of trouble for my people—will be punished the same way."
O'Brien glared at him, but managed the expected response. "Yes."
"All right." Kolovzon gestured to Diaadul, who retreated smoothly from the doorway, easing a phaser out from under her shirt. "There's no time like the present to begin, is there? I will cut the forcefield, and you will come out without causing us any trouble."
"I've agreed to what you want," O'Brien said. "Isn't that enough?"
"I expect you to make it so," Kolovzon answered. He touched a control box mounted on the far wall—well out of reach from the cells, O'Brien noted, but maybe not completely out of the range of something heavy thrown through the gap in the forcefield's lattice—and the lines of purple light flickered once and disappeared.
O'Brien took a cautious step forward, and Kolovzon seized him by the shoulder, shoved him bodily toward the human male. O'Brien swung around, fists clenching automatically, and the human said, "I wouldn't."
O'Brien glanced at him, good sense reasserting itself, and Kolovzon said, "My chief engineer, Cytryn Jarriel."
O'Brien nodded, his eyes flicking over the stranger. He was thin, brown hair going grey at the sides, and there were heavy fatigue shadows under his eyes.
"Diaadul," Kolovzon said, and the woman nodded.
"The escort's laid on."
O'Brien sighed, almost imperceptibly—he had hoped that with only Jarriel to deal with, he might find some way to escape—and Jarriel said, "Come on."
O'Brien sighed again, and followed the other engineer out into the main corridor. As Diaadul had said, there were two men, one human or close, the other massive and unfamiliar, with thick blue skin mottled with indigo lumps like warts, each with a phase rifle clasped to his chest, waiting outside the heavy door. They fell into step behind O'Brien, who looked back once, and resigned himself to wait. There was nothing to do but follow Jarriel, try to memorize Helios's layout, and hope for a change of lu
ck.
He was reasonably familiar with the Klingon hull that Helios had been built from, but the modifications had been extensive, and it was hard to work out their route's relationship to the ships with which he was most familiar. He had been fairly certain that the detention cells were near the ship's outer surfaces—no one wasted the most protected spaces, at the core of the ship, on prisoners—and he guessed after a few minutes that they had turned into one of the major core-to-hull arteries. The bulkheads were marked with a dark yellow stripe, and when the corridor ended at a bank of turbolifts, O'Brien knew he had guessed correctly: the yellow stripe did mark the ventral corridor that ran from bridge to stern on most Klingon hulls. Knowing that, he could find his way to lifepods or transporters—if, of course, he could get away from his guards. And even if he could, there was still Kira to think about. His brief pleasure vanished, and he let himself be herded into the first turbolift.
"Engineering," Jarriel said, and the carrier lurched into motion.
O'Brien braced himself against the jerky movement, and looked at the other engineer with narrowed eyes. "You've taken a lot of damage."
The blue-skinned guard growled something, and Jarriel said, "Oh, shut up, Tess, anyone can tell that."
The guard subsided, rattling his weapon against his chest. Jarriel looked at O'Brien. "Yeah, we took some damage, O'Brien. And you better hope you can figure out how to repair it, or else the captain's going to leave DS9 short an engineer."
"Can't you handle it?" O'Brien asked, and achieved a sneer.
Jarriel smiled, lopsidedly. "Wait until you see it, kurin, then you tell me."
That did not sound promising. O'Brien looked away, watching the floor indicators flash past overhead. The little exchange had told him two things: first, the damage to Helios was more serious than even Dax had guessed, and, second, Jarriel was confident enough of his skills that he couldn't be drawn into doing something stupid. At least, not by insulting his work, O'Brien thought.
The turbolift slowed, then jerked abruptly to a stop. O'Brien stumbled sideways, unprepared for the sudden deceleration, and Jarriel caught him by the shoulder. The human guard sneered, but Jarriel said nothing, merely twisted the old-fashioned control to open the turbolift's door. They stepped out onto a catwalk perhaps halfway up the side of the massive engine space, and into a scene that made O'Brien catch his breath in shock. Helios had taken damage, all right, more damage than he'd seen on a starship since he'd left the Enterprise. Cables, bright-orange emergency couplings, glossy black temporary bindings, red and green builders' cables, and twists of multicolored wires that looked like nothing he'd ever seen wove through the open volume, bypassing damaged consoles and linking the surviving systems to each other. To the left, one entire monitoring panel was dark; beside it, another flashed wildly, readings just below the critical points. To the right, two other panels were mostly dark, a few warning lights flickering wanly along their screens. O'Brien swore under his breath, unable quite to believe what he was seeing. At least one of the reaction chambers was completely dead, two more had fallen below the restart minimums, and the fourth…O'Brien's eyes fixed on the flashing lights, the vertical indicators glowing red-orange and bobbing just below the warning line. The fourth was so close to critical that it would take only the slightest misjudgment from the technicians who hovered at that console to push it over the edge.
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