Sisko walked back over to the chair behind his desk and sat down again. The counselor looked at him from where she stood, and he knew he would have to acknowledge the reason she had come into his ready room. “Kasidy and I understood the dangers of bringing our family aboard the Robinson and making our home here,” he said. “We each thought about it, and we discussed it, and in the end, we decided that this was where we wanted to be. There will be dangers to the ship and the people aboard it, but there will also be immeasurable opportunities to learn about the universe.”
Althouse said nothing, and her silence confirmed her intentions. Sisko understood that she would wait for him to say the words she had come to hear him say. On the bridge, she had read his distress, and she wanted to ensure that he did not suppress the emotions that the current situation engendered in him, that he recognized and would cope with them.
Sisko looked at the computer interface, at the exploratory route that had been planned for his ship and crew—planned, and then abandoned. With unhurried movements, he reached over and deactivated the device, blanking its screen. “Yes, I thought when Kasidy and Rebecca came aboard that the Robinson crew would be out traveling the galaxy in search of its wonders, not headed for a potential clash with Tzenkethi forces. I always knew that engaging in battle would be a possibility, but this is the first time I’ve been faced with that reality.”
He paused. Sisko wanted to tell the counselor that it didn’t matter, that he had considered the circumstances and dealt with them on an emotional level. He knew that she would see through the artifice.
“I’m not happy about it,” he finally said. “I’m never happy when I have to take my crew into battle, and I certainly don’t like it any better now that my family is aboard. But I wanted Kasidy and Rebecca with me, and I wanted this post. I accept the consequences, even if I don’t like them.”
Althouse continued to stand quietly for a moment, then nodded her head once. “Oh, the life of a starship captain,” she said in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.
Sisko smiled up at her, although he didn’t feel light. “It all comes with the territory,” he said. “At least I’m not saddled with all the dreadful responsibilities of a crew counselor.”
Althouse rolled her eyes theatrically. “Don’t I know it?” she said, and then she started toward the door. “Well, please excuse the interruption, Captain.”
“Of course, Counselor.” Content to see her go, Sisko also felt appreciation for the care she provided the crew—perhaps grudging appreciation when it came to his own care, but appreciation nevertheless. He watched her go until the doors glided shut after her.
Sisko brought his hands up to his face and steepled his fingers. He thought about the counselor’s visit, and the reason she felt it necessary. After a while, he looked back at the computer interface on his desk. He considered returning to the specs of Robinson’s erstwhile exploratory mission, but decided against it. Instead, he called up Captain Ro’s report about the Tzenkethi genetic material found on the device implanted in Enkar Sirsy, the woman first suspected of assassinating President Bacco. Back at DS9, Ro had briefed him on the matter, and he had read through her report, but he thought that maybe he should do so again. So close to Coalition space, he wanted to make sure he understood the situation as thoroughly as possible.
THE INDIGO STRAND of interstellar dust and ionized gases glowed on the main viewscreen, its diffuse form twisted luminously through space. Sisko stared from the command chair at the beautiful astral structure, just one portion of the massive Helaspont Nebula that meandered across the sector and beyond. It looked to him more like an abstract work of art than some great celestial object.
“Anything?” Rogeiro asked. The first officer stood beside Uteln at the tactical station.
“Negative,” the Deltan replied. “No sign of the Argus, and no more energy surges, but the static discharge and ionization effects of the nebula are disrupting our sensors.”
“Could that have been what our long-range scans picked up?” Sisko asked. “Could those have been the energy surges we detected?”
“No, I don’t think so, sir,” Uteln said. “The nebula causes havoc with sensors because its effects are widespread. The energy discharges we read earlier were localized and greater in point magnitude.”
“Understood,” Sisko said. “Uteln, continue trying to raise the Argus. In the meantime, I guess we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Commander Sivadeki, plot a search grid into the nebula.”
“Aye, sir,” said the conn officer.
Just before Robinson had arrived along the patrol route assigned to the Argus crew, at the scoutship’s last confirmed position, Sisko had received a response from Helaspont Station. The starbase floated at the other end of the sector, on the far edge of the nebula. In his transmission, Captain French indicated that he had last received word from the Argus crew less than ten hours earlier, at the regular time for the first of their twice-daily reports. Their message had been routine, with no mention of any trouble aboard ship, and no hint of any Tzenkethi presence in the region. French provided the coordinates of Argus’ last verified location.
“Search pattern laid in, Captain,” said Sivadeki. “It will take us up to and along the Federation border, but not past it. Ready to execute on your command.”
“Initiate,” Sisko said. He listened to the sounds of the ship as Robinson moved onto its new path. He mused to himself that he had opposed his crew’s assignment to the border in Helaspont Sector—to any crew’s assignment there—because he had dreaded an escalation of the tensions already present between the Federation and the Tzenkethi Coalition. With the apparent disappearance of Argus, he worried that his fears might be realized sooner than even he had anticipated.
Less than an hour later, they were.
“Captain, sensors are picking up energy discharges again,” Uteln said. “The readings are sporadic because of the interference, but they’re originating outside the nebula.”
“Can you identify the source?” Rogeiro asked. He had returned to the first officer’s chair.
“Trying,” Uteln said as he operated his panel. “I can tell you that there appear to be two sources, but it’s impossible to produce a clean sensor description as long as we’re within the nebula.”
Rogeiro looked to Sisko for confirmation of the next logical order, but the captain stood up and issued it directly. “Sivadeki, take us out of the nebula. Follow the shortest possible route.”
“Aye, Captain,” she said. “Computing our trajectory.” Her hands dashed across the conn, and in just a few moments, Sisko saw the colorful contours of the Helaspont Nebula shift as Sivadeki piloted Robinson toward open space. When the image on the main viewer cleared, showing nothing but stars, he looked to the tactical console, where Uteln operated his controls and studied his displays.
“I’ve isolated the two sources of the discharges,” the tactical officer said. “No . . . not two . . . there are three of them.” When he lifted his head, Sisko saw the concern on his face. “They’re ships, sir . . . firing their weapons.”
“At what? At each other?” Rogeiro said as he jumped up from his chair and raced up the curved starboard ramp to the raised section of the bridge.
“No, not at each other,” Uteln said. “I don’t see a target, though. They seem to be firing into the nebula.”
“It’s got to be the Argus in there,” Sisko said. “Can you identify the ships that are firing?”
“Scanning them now,” Uteln said. “They all have relatively small profiles. Their hull geometry is—” The tactical officer stopped in midsentence, then glanced up knowingly at the captain. “Their hull geometry is helical.”
Sisko understood immediately what that meant. As far as he knew, only one class of starship employed a helix-shaped design. “Tzenkethi harriers.”
Rogeiro leaned in beside Uteln and examined a read
out on the tactical display. “Captain,” he said, “the harriers are beyond the Federation border.”
“And their target?”
Rogeiro looked around for that information, but Uteln replied. “The section of the nebula they’re firing at is also outside of Federation space.”
“Is it a gambit?” Plante asked from the operations console. “Are they attempting to lure us out of our territory and into theirs?”
“They’re not within their own borders either,” Rogeiro said. “They’re in unclaimed space.”
“We say it’s unclaimed,” noted Sivadeki. “They may say otherwise.”
“In either case, why would they want to draw a Galaxy-class starship out of Federation space?” Uteln asked. “Even three harriers can’t hope to prevail against the Robinson.”
“Maybe they’re trying to trigger an interstellar incident of some kind,” Plante postulated, “as cover for their involvement in the assassination.” Sisko had informed his senior staff of the evidence pointing toward the Coalition.
“Or perhaps they’re not firing at the Argus,” Rogeiro speculated. “What if we get out there and discover that a couple of marauders are waiting for us inside the nebula?”
Two years earlier, during the attack on the original Deep Space 9 that had resulted in the station’s destruction, the Robinson crew had bested one of the powerful, teardrop-shaped battle cruisers, but just barely, and only after suffering numerous casualties and considerable damage to the ship. Sisko did not want to take his crew into another such battle. He felt confident, though, that no marauders lay in wait for them inside the nebula. Not that the Tzenkethi couldn’t be devious, but Sisko’s intuition told him what had happened.
He knew the capabilities of the harriers. Though maneuverable and fast, they could not outrun a Vigilant-class scoutship—but they could outgun it. Built for speed, Argus and its sister ships had little in the way of significant armaments or defenses. Sisko didn’t know why the Argus crew had crossed out of Federation space—they could have been lured there or forced there, their ship could have suffered a malfunction, or they could have found a valid reason to do so, such as responding to a distress call. Regardless, Sisko felt sure that the three Tzenkethi vessels had surrounded Argus, and, unable to fight their way back across the border, the Starfleet crew had taken their ship into the nebula to hide.
“No, there are no marauders hiding in the nebula,” he told his bridge crew. “That’s our ship out there.”
“How can you be sure, Captain?” Rogeiro asked, descending from the raised level of the bridge. The first officer rarely disagreed with Sisko’s decisions, and he almost never questioned him in front of the crew. The two men worked well together, and on top of that, they’d also become good friends. Because Sisko valued the man’s judgment, he not only trusted Rogeiro to speak his mind, he counted on it.
“I don’t know,” the captain admitted, “but I feel very strongly about it. We need to rescue the Argus crew.”
Rogeiro did not pursue a more comprehensive answer to his question. Instead, he began implementing Sisko’s order. “Shields up, phasers and photon torpedoes at the ready,” he said. “Set course for the nearest harrier, maximum warp. You have the captain’s authorization to leave Federation space.”
As the crew acknowledged and executed their orders, Sisko returned to the command chair, and Rogeiro sat down beside him. “Hail the closest ship,” the captain ordered.
“Hailing frequencies open,” said Uteln.
“U.S.S. Robinson to Coalition ship,” Sisko said. He didn’t bother to stand, knowing that the recalcitrant Tzenkethi rarely communicated visually. He considered how best to approach the situation, and quickly decided on a course of action. “This is Captain Benjamin Sisko of the United Federation of Planets. We are in search of a lost vessel and request your assistance in locating it.”
Sisko did not receive an immediate reply, and Uteln reported that the harriers continued to fire on the nebula. But then a sound like the peal of bells rang out through the comm system, followed a moment later by the universal translator’s interpretation of the language. “Tzenkethi squadron to Federation starship. This is Nenzet Siv Vel-C. You are encroaching on sovereign Coalition territory and are instructed to withdraw at once.”
“Siv,” Sisko said, employing the Tzenkethi’s title, which he knew equated to something like squadron leader. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear. My crew are searching for a Federation vessel with which we have lost contact. I don’t know what you’re firing at—surely it could not be our missing ship—but it is you who are encroaching on our territory. The Federation has claimed this space as its own.”
On the main viewer, a shape appeared in the center of the screen amid the stars, a blue and violet patch of the Helaspont Nebula behind it. As the captain watched, the image blinked, and the shape grew in size, magnified by Commander Plante. The characteristic helical construction of the Tzenkethi harrier always appeared dramatic and unusual to Sisko. The ship tapered from bow to stern, its hull shining with a prismatic gleam.
“This is not Federation territory,” blustered Nenzet. “That is an outrageous declaration.”
“It is not a declaration,” Sisko said. “It is merely a report of fact. If you like, I can produce the Ferengi Ledger of Galactic Space, which lists all territorial claims.”
“The Ferengi!” Nenzet barked, though the bell-like sound of his voice made his tone less than threatening. “Federation lackeys who would sell you the Soaring Cliffs of Villisang if you let them.” Sisko had never head of the Soaring Cliffs of Villisang, but he imagined that the phrase held the same meaning as a human trying to sell the Brooklyn Bridge, a protected Federation historic landmark.
“I think the Ferengi would quibble with your characterization,” Sisko said, careful to speak calmly in the wake of the Tzenkethi’s indignation. “But I can still produce the document. Are you officially disputing our claim?” Sisko glanced over at his first officer to see him smiling.
Nenzet did not respond right away, and when he finally did, his words seemed uncertain. “I do dispute your claim,” he said, “but I do not have the authority to do so officially.”
On the viewscreen, the stern tip of the harrier began to glow at multiple points. As Sisko watched, the lights increased in intensity, then started to swirl around the coiled hull, speeding forward until they shot out from the bow of the ship. The captain waited to see if Nenzet had fired on Robinson, although, if he had, Uteln would have warned the bridge crew.
When no weapons fire landed on his ship, Sisko said, “Siv, I do have the authority to enforce the Federation’s claim to this space. I suggest that you stop firing your weapons, which could be considered an act of war.”
“It is the Federation who has perpetrated an act of war,” Nenzet bellowed. “Your accusation of Tzenkethi involvement in the assassination of your president is not only false, but an insult and cause for reprisal. The Federation has always hated the Coalition, and your dispatching of your own leader is clearly a naked attempt to sow instability and divide us from our allies so that you can launch an all-out attack on the Tzenkethi.”
Sisko thought that only the outward hostility of Nenzet and his people could match their paranoia, particularly when it came to the Federation. Still, his allegation that the Federation had murdered President Bacco unsettled the captain. For the moment, he ignored that, concentrating instead on finding the Argus crew. He also noted that the harrier no longer fired its weapons.
“Nenzet Siv,” he said, “we can sit here and continue to denounce each other’s governments, or we can end this uncomfortable encounter peacefully.”
“You may withdraw at any time,” Nenzet said, but Sisko did not believe he spoke with confidence.
“May I suggest a compromise?” Sisko said. “We can both withdraw—your three ships and our two.” The captain intended h
is suggestion as a means of allowing Nenzet to save face in retreating from the area. The squadron leader leaped at the opportunity.
“We do not detect two Federation vessels in the area,” Nenzet said.
“As I mentioned, Siv, we are searching for a lost ship,” Sisko said. “We believe it is in the portion of the nebula that your squadron is surrounding.”
“We . . . are searching for a vessel ourselves,” Nenzet said.
“And firing on it?”
“It is piloted by an outlaw, and we have been charged with stopping him.” The story sounded improvised. Sisko didn’t care, as long as he could find and help the crew of Argus.
“Would you object to our entering the nebula and searching for our lost ship?” Sisko said. He knew that Nenzet and his three harriers could do nothing to stop the Robinson crew from doing so, and the Tzenkethi surely knew that as well. “If we locate your outlaw, we will gladly deliver him to you. If we find our lost ship, we will escort it—or if necessary, tow it—back across our old border, which would at least honor your dispute, official or not, of our claim to this territory.”
“That would be acceptable,” Nenzet said. “But we will not wait indefinitely.”
“Then the sooner we begin, the sooner we can conclude our search. We’ll keep you informed of our progress. Robinson out.”
“Channel closed,” Uteln said.
“Institute a new search grid for this section of the nebula,” Rogeiro ordered, and Sivadeki set about doing so.
Sisko observed his senior bridge crew with appreciation as they quickly and efficiently went about their jobs. It did not take them long to visually locate a vessel within the nebula—not the obviously nonexistent outlaw Nenzet had mentioned, but Argus. In closer proximity to each other, the two crews managed to make communications function well enough, despite the interference.
Captain Aldany Menzies reported that his crew had detected a ship entering the nebula on the Federation side of the border. When their hails went unanswered, they pursued the ship. Argus crossed the border in that chase, and when it eventually emerged from the nebula, its crew found themselves surrounded by the Tzenkethi squadron. Unable to make their way safely back into Federation space, they took refuge in another section of the nebula.
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