by Неизвестный
As he dropped, O'Brien's line of sight cleared the interior habitat ring. Now he could see the red glow of the fusion reactors' exhaust cone at the relative bottom of the station. There, the saucer-shaped module con-taining the station's main fusion reactors-of which only four had been certified safe enough to remain operational-was attached to the main core by a con-stricted airlock linkage. That airlock connector was what allowed the quick jettisoning of the module in an emergency with minimal loss of interior atmosphere.
The airlock connector, though, was strictly designed to allow only the passage of turbolift cars and life-sup-port services. The end-product of the fusion reactor- power-was delivered to the rest of the station through six exterior power transfer conduits that extended from the top hull of the fusion module to the bottom hull of the lower habitat. Again, in an emergency they were designed to be quickly separated from the station. A single conduit could supply the station's minimal power needs for weeks.
But yesterday, when Odo's murder-investigation team had detected an inexplicable modulation in the output of power-transfer conduit B almost exactly where it entered the main station, jettisoning the con-duit had fortunately not been required.
No Dominion warships were reported within tens of parsecs of the Bajoran system, so emergency condi-tions did not apply. O'Brien had called for a by-the-book shutdown of conduit B, using the remaining five to supply the station without requiring any power rationing. And once the conduit was cold, he had assigned an engineering team to open it up and remove all the exterior hull plates, so that they could conduct a visual inspection in addition to the molecular scan-ning. It was a time-consuming procedure to be sure, but also a conservative one. A chance to make repairs without danger of attack or risk of catastrophic disaster was something that came to O'Brien less and less these days. He found he was actually looking forward to helping Rom and his team.
There were three other engineers with Rom, floating by the top of the power conduit where it entered the lower hull of the main station. O'Brien could see they were each attached to the station by a memory
tether- without them, DS9's rotation would move the conduit away from anyone in an environmental suit within sixty seconds.
O'Brien expertly maneuvered himself into position beside Rom. Rom was easy to identify among the engineering team because he was the shortest of the four, and he wore a modified helmet that provided more room for his Ferengi skull.
"Chief O'Brien," Rom said in greeting as he took O'Brien's arm, "I didn't mean for Major Kira to call you away from your important work."
"That's all right, Rom." From any other Ferengi, O'Brien knew that those words would be a reflexive and meaningless expression of the 33rd Rule of Acqui-sition. But in Rom's case, O'Brien believed that the Ferengi technician, gratifyingly enough, did consider anything the chief engineer of DS9 did to be of crucial importance to the station. Of course, it also was true that Rom always believed anything a chief of engineer-ing did to be more important than what a mere assis-tant did. Unsure whether the Ferengi technician's belief stemmed from something in the Ferengi tradi-tion of apprenticeship or from Rom's admiration for his chief's skills, O'Brien rather hoped it was the latter.
Grateful for Rom's steadying grip, O'Brien fired a memory tether from the mobility module around his right forearm. At once, the tether's tip sought out the nearest spinward positioning cleat on the hull and magnetically attached itself to the metallic surface. Now, O'Brien knew, the tether would automatically adjust its length and tension to keep him in position over the very same point-power-transfer conduit B, hull plate B-OF-186-9776-3. The Cardassians were nothing if not impressive record keepers.
"So what do we have?" he asked Rom.
Rom tapped some controls on his forearm padd, and they watched as a holographic display of a tricorder screen sprang up and took shape a half-meter in front of O'Brien's helmet.
O'Brien whistled as he interpreted the shifting, false-color display of a hull-plate scan. On a typical plate, the scan would show thirteen distinct color bars representing the thirteen composite layers used to form the station's skin. But on this display, O'Brien noted with a frown, several segments of the hull plate's inte-rior layers were mixed together as if sections of them had melted into each other.
He checked the coordinates of the display. "You're sure this isn't reversed?"
"Yes, sir," Rom said earnestly. "See the outermost layer? Pure plasma-sprayed pyroceramic trianium."
Rom was right. The PSPT layer was for micromete-oroid protection, a final fail-safe for the station in case the station-keeping deflectors went off-line. Even more importantly, it was always and only applied to the exterior of the hull plates. Which meant the mixing of layers was definitely on the inside.
"Good attention to detail," O'Brien said. Even through his helmet he could see Rom's broad smile in response to his compliment. "A lot of engineers would have automatically concluded that the sensor was in error."
The smile left the Ferengi technician's face as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, no, Chief-the whole team agreed that this was an anomalous reading."
O'Brien nodded. He didn't know if that were true or not, but he appreciated the fact that Rom took respon-sibility for his team-two Bajorans and a new Vulcan
ensign who had just been assigned to DS9 from the Academy. "Well done, people," he said, with a glance that encompassed Rom's three assistants.
This time, all except the Vulcan smiled back in acknowledgment of the praise.
"All right, Rom," O'Brien said. "What do we do next?"
Though obviously startled that O'Brien wasn't tak-ing over the operation, Rom rose to the challenge. "Well, the final decision will have to be based on an understanding of what has caused the mixing of the hull layers."
"Very good. What possibilities should we investi-gate?" O'Brien effortlessly reassumed his role as instructor for the station's engineering staff. It gave him real pleasure to see someone grasp and apply engineering concepts for the first time. Somedays, he even thought he might enjoy teaching at the Academy himself. Once the war was over, of course.
"Um, um..." Rom said as he gathered his thoughts. "Well... if we had found this kind of mixing on the exterior layers of the hull, we could conclude that... it was the result of an energy discharge. Maybe a stray... phaser hit from an old battle."
"That's one," O'Brien confirmed.
"And... if we open up the plate and find that the innermost layer is not disturbed-that is, it appears to be undamaged, then... we might conclude the mixing of layers is a manufacturing flaw."
O'Brien decided to challenge Rom once again. He frowned. "The Cardassians? Miss a manufacturing flaw as prominent as this?"
A look of momentary panic contorted Rom's face. From long experience, O'Brien knew that many stu-
dents folded at this point, unwilling to appear to con-tradict their teacher's pronouncement.
But Rom swallowed hard and blurted out. "I really don't mean to argue but...."
"But what?" O'Brien prompted, trying to keep a smile from his face.
"Well... Cardassian manufacturing standards fell drastically during... the last few years of the Occupa-tion and if this hull plate was manufactured during that period and Bajoran slave workers were part of the qual-ity assurance program then... then there's a chance- a little tiny barely-worth-mentioning chance-that a manufacturing flaw like this could slip through." Rom audibly gulped at his own temerity and the remainder of his words tumbled out in a rush. "But... you're probably right. Don't pay any attention to me."
O'Brien shook his head. "Rom, never be afraid to question the chief engineer."
Rom blinked in surprise. "Never? Really?"
O'Brien reconsidered. "Well, maybe not when you're under enemy fire. But this is a stable situation, so we might as well enjoy the luxury of exploring all the possibilities. In this case, you're right. It is possible we're seeing a manufacturing flaw."
Rom brightened like a puppy who
'd been given a brand-new chew toy. O'Brien couldn't help himself. He had to smile.
"Thank you, Chief."
"But let's not get carried away." O'Brien was the teacher again. "I think there's one more possibility we should consider. What about you?"
Rom nodded quickly in his helmet, making his entire weightless body rock slowly back and forth around his center of gravity.
"And that possibility would be... ?" O'Brien said.
"Oh, uh, a power conduit rupture!"
"Exactly," O'Brien agreed. "Though because the hull plate surrounding the conduit isn't de-formed...."
Rom got it at once. "It would be a very small rup-ture."
"So given those three possibilities, what procedures do we follow to identify which one is the actual cause of the layer distortion?"
Rom looked off into space and recited the steps to be taken next, beginning with shutting down the power conduit-which had already been accomplished-to the final step of setting up a portable forcefield in order to keep any possible debris contained once the damaged hull plate had been removed.
Timing his actions to coincide with the completion of Rom's list, O'Brien activated the memory tether override and used his thrusters to slip to the side. "Well, what are you waiting for, Rom?"
O'Brien chuckled at the expressions first of surprise and then delight that washed across Rom's face as the Ferengi technician realized he was being permitted to continue with the examination.
With renewed confidence, Rom efficiently directed the others in setting up the forcefield generator that Kira now beamed to the engineering team. Then he positioned his team at the connection points of the hull plate they were about to remove.
Elapsed time for these preparations was approxi-mately twenty minutes, and O'Brien took full advan-tage of his position as an observer to use the time to watch the incomparable parade of the wonders of space: the steady shine of the untwinkling stars, the
subtly shifting colorful filaments of the Denorios Belt, and the distant pure light of Bajor's sun, Bajor-B'hava'el-the brightest star in space for DS9, though distant enough from the station that it was simply a brilliant point of light, not a blazing disk.
"We're ready, Chief," Rom announced.
Even from his position, floating five meters away, O'Brien could see that Rom's team had properly installed the forcefield emitters and that the four engi-neers were correctly in position. "You're in charge, Rom."
Rom nodded and turned his attention to steadying himself on the multitorque defastener he had attached to the plate bolt, then gave a quick glance to reassure himself that each of his team members was also poised to use their own. "All right, everybody, on the... count of ten. One-"
"Uh, Rom?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"Why not make it the count of three?"
"Good idea. Everybody, forget what I said about going on the count of ten. That would take too much time and slow down the-"
"One!" O'Brien prompted.
Rom got the hint. "Uh... two... and three!"
O'Brien carefully monitored the spinning bits of each defastener as they counterrotated, detaching the hull-plate fasteners.
"Slowly..." Rom cautioned nervously. "Standing by to activate the forcefield... as soon as the hull plate is free...."
Then a few puffs of gas vented, as the hull-plate seal was broken and the plate itself began to drift away from the curved pillar of the conduit structure, pro-
pelled by the centripetal force imparted by DS9's rota-tion.
O'Brien's attention focused on what would happen next-in the next minute or two. When the plate had drifted about a meter away from the surface of the conduit, Rom would activate the forcefield so that any debris behind the plate would remain in place. Then, when the plate was about ten meters from the conduit, Jadzia was standing by in Ops to grab the plate with a construction tractor beam and hold it safely out of the way.
As far as O'Brien was concerned, his credits were on the cause of the distorted layers being a tiny rupture in the power-transfer conduit that had allowed plasma current to leak out and melt the inside of the hull plate. And a ruptured energy conduit would certainly explain the anomalous readings Odo's people got from the lower levels when they were investigating the death of that Andorian businessman.
Then the loudest, highest-pitched Ferengi scream O'Brien had ever heard shoved every other thought from his mind as he slammed his gloved hands to the sides of his helmet in a useless attempt to block out the din.
"Computer!" O'Brien shouted. "Lower helmet vol-ume!"
Instantly, Rom's squeal dropped to a more tolerable level, and O'Brien swiftly detached his memory tether and thrusted in to see whatever it was that had so upset Rom.
Dead bodies.
Two of them.
Cardassians.
Crammed into the insulating buffer zone between the power-transfer conduit's inner and outer hulls.
The arms of the two corpses were stretched out as if desperately reaching to freedom. Their black, shriv-elled lips were drawn back exposing startlingly white teeth, their jaws agape in terror.
O'Brien shivered. The dessicated gray flesh still coating what could be seen of the two skeletons was fractured by deep-cut purple fissures, the result of pro-longed exposure to the absolute vacuum of space.
"It's all right, Rom. Calm down. Breathe normally." O'Brien stayed out of Rom's reach in case the Ferengi panicked and started flailing. "O'Brien to Ops, lock on to Rom and prepare to beam him in on my order."
"What is it, Chief?" Kira asked.
"I'm locked," Jadzia's voice added.
O'Brien kept his voice deliberately neutral, setting a proper example for his staff. "There are two bodies in the insulating space between the hulls. Cardassians."
"Construction workers?" Kira asked.
O'Brien thrusted in closer. One of the skeletons was missing its hand-it had been severed cleanly at the wrist. "Don't think so, Major. They're not in environ-ment suits. In fact, they look to be civilians. Been here quite a while, though. All the moisture in them's subli-mated long ago."
O'Brien puzzled over the missing hand. He looked around to see if it had floated free.
It had. He could see it attached to the inside of the detached hull plate, as if it had been welded in posi-tion, exactly where scans had detected that strange mixing of the plate's interior layers.
"Chief," Kira asked carefully, "any chance they might have been put in there when the conduit was manufactured?"
O'Brien understood what the major was suggesting.
The two Cardassians might have been victims of the Bajoran resistance-walled up in the conduit to die when it was carried into space. They certainly looked as if they had been in vacuum long enough to have been killed during the Occupation.
But the theory didn't hold because of one critical detail. "Probably not," O'Brien said. "These conduits were all assembled in space when the station was con-structed. I don't know how the blazes they got in there."
Jadzia's voice came over the comm link next. "Chief, we should transport the bodies to the Infirmary for Julian. But I can't get a good lock on them. Is that conduit still live?"
"Dead cold, Commander. If you can lock onto Rom, there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to lock onto the Cardassians."
"Well, I can't," Jadzia replied, and O'Brien could hear her annoyance.
"How about I pull them out into the open?" O'Brien suggested.
"What a good idea," Jadzia said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
O'Brien looked back at Rom. The Ferengi engineer seemed calmer now. "Okay, Rom. Best thing to do is to climb back on the horse."
Rom's grimace of distaste was clear behind his face-plate. "There's a horse in there, too?!"
O'Brien didn't have the strength to explain. "Just give me a hand pulling them out so Jadzia can trans-port them."
O'Brien could see that the Ferengi engineer would rather start a fight with Worf than handle dead Cardas
-sians, but he gamely tapped his thruster controls and moved into position beside his teacher.
"You get the one on the right," O'Brien said as he moved in to grab the arm stump of the Cardassian on the left. "And be gentle. They're apt to be a bit... brittle."
"Shouldn't a medical team come out to do this?" Rom asked as he tentatively reached for the Cardas-sian on the right.
Exercising caution, O'Brien took hold of the other corpse's arm. For a moment, he was disconcerted because the insulating gap was only about a meter and half deep, and he couldn't see where the dead Cardassian's legs were. But before he could stop to analyze the significance of what he saw, his hand reflexively gave his thruster controls a tap for reverse, and he abruptly tumbled away from the con-duit, pulling the upper half of the dead Cardassian with him.