Even as he thought that, one of the technicians in that group—a woman, he realized abruptly, though she was so bundled in heavy coveralls that her sex was not immediately apparent—looked up and lifted a hand in greeting.
"Still holding, Chief, but I don't know how long. And the cloaking device is looking wonky again."
"Damn. Well, keep juggling, kurin, we've maybe got some help," Jarriel said, and smiled again at O'Brien. "We took a direct hit on the engine space, you see."
O'Brien nodded slowly, drawn in spite of himself to the problem in front of him. And Jarriel must be good, he thought, if he's kept the ship running this long, with this much damage. "You've lost, what, three reactor chambers?" he asked. "And you're losing control of the reaction on that one. Dump it, Jarriel, that's my advice."
Jarriel shook his head. "Sorry, that's not possible. Got another solution?"
"Not possible?" O'Brien stared at him. "You know as well as I do—if you're any kind of engineer, you know you can't keep that reactor running. It will overload, and then you'll not only lose the chamber, you'll destroy the entire ship." And anything else in the near vicinity, he added silently. The thought was chilling—How close are we to DS9, to Keiko?—and he shook it away, made himself scowl at Jarriel. "I doubt your captain thinks it's worth the risk, Jarriel."
"You'd be surprised," Jarriel murmured. He said, more loudly, "I'll shut it down the minute someone shows me how I can get more power. If I had the parts Carabas was bringing us—bridging bars, replacement circuits—" He broke off, shaking his head. "Suffice it to say, this is what we've got. And I need all the power the system's putting out right now."
O'Brien looked around the devastated chamber, torn between fear and anger and a strange, furtive admiration for anyone who could keep this collection of junk and disasters running at all. "All right," he said, and knew he sounded less than certain. "Let's take a look at it, see what I can do."
It took him less than an hour to realize that Jarriel had done everything that he himself would have done—except shut down that bloody reactor—but he spun out his tour by another hour in the vague hope that it might somehow buy Sisko the time he needed to get him and Kira out of this situation. Jarriel followed him, silent except when O'Brien asked a technical question; the half-dozen technicians, all looking as worn as Jarriel himself, barely seemed to notice their presence. Finally, however, O'Brien had made his way from one end of the chamber to the other, and had checked the damaged reactors twice. He turned toward the console that monitored the dead reactor, and Jarriel said, "Well, O'Brien?"
O'Brien sighed, and looked back at him. "What the hell is a Starfleet engineer doing on this ship?"
Jarriel blinked once, startled and then gave one of his twisted smiles. "I was never Starfleet."
"That's Starfleet training, all of it." O'Brien gestured to the strung cables, and then to the monitoring stations opposite. "And it's Starfleet procedure to handle shutdown like that, not Klingon or Cardassian, and definitely not Federation merchant shipping. So, what made you join up with a bunch of pirates?"
"I never made it into Starfleet," Jarriel said. "For—various reasons. I learned the technique from an old drunk who used to be Starfleet: you might say the method was better than the source." He paused, shook his head. "And there's no point in stalling, O'Brien. What's your verdict?"
O'Brien hesitated. What would happen when he told the truth, or was he better off pretending there was something he could do, in hopes of immobilizing the ship until Sisko could make his move? It was an article of faith that Sisko would do something to rescue them. Then, slowly, he shook his head. Jarriel was good, too good to fool like that. "You're lucky this much of it still works, and I'm none too happy about that number-two reactor. There's nothing I can do that you haven't done. This lot won't be fixed short of dry dock—you could do patchwork, maybe, if you had the parts, but that's all."
"If," Jarriel echoed, and grinned. "Well, you don't see miracles every day." He nodded to the nearest guard, and turned to the intercom, touched a key code. "Captain, Jarriel here."
There was only a little wait before Kolovzon's voice crackled from the speaker. O'Brien could just make out the words, and strained to hear.
"So, Jarriel. What's the answer?"
"Pretty much what I told you," Jarriel answered, and O'Brien had to admire the offhand note in the engineer's voice. Kolovzon was not a man to whom he would care to tell bad news. "There's damn all we can do without the parts Möhrlein was bringing, and probably dry dock after that. And the number-two reactor is still barely subcritical."
"But it is within limits," Kolovzon said.
"Just barely," Jarriel answered. "And I'm not making promises."
O'Brien couldn't tell if the next noise was a hiss of annoyance or just static in the system. Kolovzon said, "All right, bring him to the bridge. And send Tesshan for the Bajoran. I want them both here at once."
"On our way," Jarriel answered. He nodded to the blue-skinned guard. "You heard the captain, Tess. Bring Major Kira to the bridge."
Tesshan nodded, and turned away. The ladders creaked audibly as he climbed back to the turbolift platform. Jarriel beckoned to the remaining guard. "Let's go."
By the time they'd reached Helios's bridge, O'Brien was certain he understood the ship's basic layout. Which meant there was some hope of finding a transporter room or, better still, a lifeboat station—if only he could get away for long enough to look. And if he could bring Kira with him: he couldn't leave her behind, at Kolovzon's mercy, any more than she would leave him. But something was bound to happen. Someone, sometime, would get careless, and they'd have their chance; in the meantime, he would bide his time, and wait for an opening.
The bridge was surprisingly spacious, a crew of seven gathered in the forward section under Diaadul's watchful supervision, while Kolovzon stood in solitary splendor beside the plotting table that filled most of the after-cabin. The blue-skinned guard was there ahead of them, waiting deferentially at the edge of that space. Kira stood behind him, scowling, but her frown vanished for an instant when she saw O'Brien.
"Chief—" she began, and Tesshan nudged her with the barrel of his phaser rifle.
"Shut up, you."
Kolovzon turned his head as though he had only just noticed their presence. "So, Jarriel. You're sure of this verdict, then?"
"Yes." Jarriel motioned for O'Brien to join Kira, and himself took his place beside the plotting table. "I told you I didn't think this would help."
"Ah." Kolovzon smiled, showing teeth, and O'Brien felt a chill run up his spine. He glanced at Kira, and saw his own wariness mirrored in her eyes.
"There you're wrong," Kolovzon went on, still smiling. "Our Number One did well to bring them aboard—to bring both of them, in fact." He stepped away from the table, and turned to face his prisoners. "You two are the currency that will buy back my missing parts. It's a very simple exchange."
"Sisko will never do it," Kira said, fiercely. "He's not going to bargain with you—"
Tesshan poked her sharply with the rifle barrel, and she broke off, glaring at the blue-skinned guard. Kolovzon said, "I do hope you're wrong, Major. But then, I have every reason to think he values your lives."
"He'll never do it," Kira said again, but she sounded less sure. Kolovzon ignored her, and stalked past them into the forward section.
O'Brien said nothing. There was nothing to say: Sisko couldn't agree to an exchange like that; even if it weren't against Starfleet policy, it would be impossible to agree to it without leaving DS9 perpetually vulnerable to the same tactics. Kira was staring after the Trehanna, an expression almost of pain on her mobile face, and O'Brien stared at her, willing her to hang on. Sisko wouldn't just leave them here, not without making some effort to rescue them, even if he couldn't agree to Kolovzon's bargain. All they had to do—all they could do—was wait, and be ready.
Sisko sat with Dax at the operations table, st
aring at the results of the latest in-depth sensor scan. Like the last one—like the last five—it showed no signs of the cloaked ship, not even the faintest tickle of a wave emission. It was as if the ship had vanished completely, and, in his worst fantasies, Sisko wondered if Helios had already fled the system, or, worse still, if it had somehow imploded, destroyed everyone and everything aboard. Both were unlikely, but the double vision had haunted him in his sleep, and he had been glad to return to Ops to face the real crisis.
"So there's nothing new," he said aloud, and Dax shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Benjamin. We're working on it, but we don't really have any options until we can locate Helios again."
"And not very many when we do," Sisko said, sourly. DS9 was in no position to fight—not only were both the station and the two runabouts outgunned by Helios, but Gul Dukat had contacted the station again to inform them that his government would construe any Federation attack on the pirate as unwarranted interference in Cardassian goals. For a moment, Sisko considered trying to get the Bajoran government to take temporary command of one of the runabouts—the Cardassians had said nothing about a Bajoran attack—but the runabouts were still outgunned, no matter whose markings they carried. "All right," he said aloud. "Our first priority has to be to get the hostages back. Is there any way we can transport them off again?"
Dax tipped her head to one side. "It's impossible at the moment, Benjamin. Helios is cloaked, and presumably will be shielded the minute she uncloaks—and in any case, Odo found both O'Brien's and Kira's communicators in the secondary monitoring station. Even if we were lucky enough to catch Helios with deflectors down and in transporter range, it would take us time, maybe as much as five or six minutes, to scan the ship and find our people, and even then I couldn't absolutely guarantee the accuracy of the scan."
Sisko nodded—it was no more than he'd expected—and looked down at the empty screen in front of him. "Can we do anything with the runabouts?" He was talking to himself as much as to Dax, and was not surprised when he didn't get an immediate answer. In any case, any attempt to rescue them from the runabouts would face the same problems: they would still have to find Helios, somehow get on board, and then escape.
"Sir!" a technician called, and in the same instant a proximity alarm sounded. "Sir, Helios is uncloaking!"
"Go to red alert," Sisko said, pushing himself away from the table. "Shields on full." He heard the instant acknowledgment, and the hoot of the alarm, but his eyes were on the main viewer, where Helios hung against the stars like a battered mountain. "Dax, scan them, see if you can find our people."
"Yes, sir," Dax said, but shook her head almost at once. "They're heavily shielded. Our scanners can't penetrate."
Sisko nodded. "Position?"
"They're just sitting there," Dax answered.
"Let me know the minute they start to move," Sisko said. "Maintain red alert." Was it possible that they were too badly damaged to attack? he wondered.
"Sir," the technician said again. "The pirate's hailing us."
"Ah." Sisko hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "Put it on the main viewer."
The screen clouded briefly, and cleared to reveal a broad-faced, broad-shouldered man—no, Sisko corrected himself, not a man, a Trehanna. The eyes, luminous blue, were slit-pupilled and slightly down-tilted; the mouth was wide, and curled into a faint, unpleasant smile. "Commander Sisko? I'm Demaree Kolovzon, master of Helios."
Sisko nodded, wary. "I'm Sisko."
"You have some things that belong to me," Kolovzon went on. "But I'm prepared to make a deal."
"You are holding two of my officers," Sisko said. "Release them, and then we can discuss any deals that can be made."
Kolovzon shook his head, smile widening. "I'm afraid not, Commander. That is my trade, very simply. Return the parts I bought and paid for—you are interfering with commerce, Commander—and I will return your officers, unharmed. Refuse, and I will return them piece by bloody piece."
"If you harm them," Sisko began, and Kolovzon held up his hand,
"Attack, and I will kill them. I want that understood as well."
Sisko's lips tightened. He had no doubt that the Trehanna was more than capable of carrying out his threats—he had Gift of Flight's destruction to prove it, if nothing else—but the thought of giving Kolovzon what he wanted, the parts that would let him continue his attacks on shipping, was equally impossible. "You should know, Kolovzon, that the Federation isn't the only factor involved here. There is a Cardassian battle fleet in the area, and it's very interested in your whereabouts. I would suggest that you return my people as quickly as possible, before the Cardassians arrive to make your life more difficult."
Kolovzon blinked, the luminous blue briefly hidden, and for a moment Sisko thought he had startled the pirate. Then Kolovzon's expression hardened again, and he shook his head. "I do hope it won't come to that, Sisko. This is Bajoran space, and I'm sure your Bajoran friends wouldn't want to see a Cardassian fleet trespassing." For an instant his voice was rich with mimicry, but steadied at once to his normal tone. "If they approach too closely, I will use your station as a screen."
"That—" Sisko broke off, but Kolovzon finished his protest for him.
"Yes, that would put your station at the center of any battle. And I assure you my first shots will be directed at your central core."
Sisko glared at the screen, mastered his rage with an effort. Unless he agreed to Kolovzon's terms, he would condemn O'Brien and Kira to a painful death—and, more than that, put the entire station and its largely Bajoran population at risk of complete destruction. His eyes slid for an instant to the weapons station, but there was no help to be found there. Even with the help of O'Brien's modifications, DS9 had no hope of standing up to the firepower on board Helios. "Very well," he said slowly. "I am prepared to beam the smugglers' cargo across to you, provided you transport one of my people first as an earnest of your good faith." He hadn't expected Kolovzon to agree, had hoped more to get the pirate to lower his shields so that Dax could find and rescue the hostages, and was not surprised when Kolovzon shook his head.
"I think not. Send Carabas out to meet us; I will transport the parts from her, and return your people the same way."
"Very well." Sisko took a deep breath, hating the concession, knowing that there was no chance at all of Kolovzon's keeping his end of the bargain. Still, a rendezvous might offer some opportunity of rescuing the hostages, and at least it kept Helios away from the station.
"Good," Kolovzon said. "I'm transmitting coordinates now; I'll expect to see Carabas at that point in exactly four hours. Kolovzon out."
The screen winked out. Sisko took another deep breath, biting back anger, and one of the technicians said, "Coordinates received, sir."
"All right," Sisko said. "Put them through to my office. Dax, get Odo, Bashir, and—who's handling O'Brien's job?"
"I am, Commander," a woman said, from the weapons console.
"And Carter," Sisko finished. "I want you all in my office immediately."
It didn't take long to assemble what was left of his staff. Looking around the little office, Sisko was all too aware of the missing faces, of the empty space where Kira usually sat, of Carter's thin face replacing O'Brien's. He put the thought aside, and turned his attention to the reports already filling his screen. "All right," he said, "let's begin at the beginning. Any luck tracking Helios?"
"Helios has not recloaked," Dax said, "which is good and bad news. We have a good fix on her, and a good sensor readout. The ship is shielded but we're picking up definite power fluctuations even through the shielding. That suggests that the damage is more extensive than we thought, which may explain why Kolovzon's willing to go to all this trouble to get his parts."
"And the bad news?" Sisko asked.
"The Cardassians have picked up Helios's presence," Dax said, "if not the actual transmission. We're tracking their fleet, and at their present speed, they're only six hours from DS9.
If they push things, Benjamin, they could be here in five."
Sisko nodded. He didn't need—none of them needed—to have the implications spelled out for them: if he wasn't able to rescue O'Brien and Kira and somehow deal with Helios in five hours, six at the outside, Deep Space Nine would find itself in the center of a space battle it could not win. "Carter, what's the status of O'Brien's modifications?"
The technician shrugged. "Everything is installed, Commander, and it will run, but the new system was never meant to do more than provide a temporary boost to the phasers."
Which wouldn't be enough, if DS9 was faced with a real battle rather than a hit-and-run encounter. Sisko sighed. And without O'Brien—Carter was better than competent, but she lacked the chief of operations' years of experience with balky machinery. Which left—what? They couldn't fight, and they couldn't give in to Kolovzon's demands. At least Helios was no longer cloaked; it was just a shame her shields were still intact…Sisko frowned then, a plan slowly taking shape in his mind. "Dax—Carter. Have you managed to analyze that Trojan horse you found, the one that shut down our shields?"
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