Sacraments of Fire

by David R. George III

  “I thought it was important, especially after the assassination attempt on the president last year on Orion.”

  “Do you know why President Bacco didn’t feel the need for a protective screen?” Ro asked. She’d thought a lot about the assassination in the three-plus months that had followed. “It’s because she already felt safe—not invincible, I don’t think she felt that, not after her chief of staff was killed on Orion, and I don’t believe she had an unconscious desire for her own death. I mean that she felt safe because, while she would naturally expect to need protection from her enemies, she wouldn’t expect to need protection from her friends.”

  Blackmer’s brow creased in consideration, and Ro saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. The captain pressed on. “The president was assassinated by one of Castellan Garan’s own aides, a lifelong civil servant of the Cardassian Union and a man with no known inimical intentions toward the Federation. He was supposed to be a friend. Onar Throk conspired with Baras Rodirya, Bajor’s representative on the Federation Council. He was supposed to be a friend. Galif jav Velk drove the entire operation, and he was Baras’ chief of staff. He was supposed to be a friend. Why wouldn’t the president feel safe?”

  “Captain, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I don’t know if I have the confidence to do this job anymore.”

  “Confidence is a matter of ability, preparation, and will,” Ro said. “I know that you have the first two of those, because I’ve seen it for myself. As for will . . .” She rose from the sofa and crossed back to her desk, where she retrieved Blackmer’s resignation. She returned to the sofa and handed the padd to him. “You’re going to have to find the will again to do your duty as security chief, because I am formally refusing your resignation.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Blackmer seemed paradoxically both relieved and distressed.

  “Say, ‘Thank you, Captain,’ then go to your quarters, get a good night’s sleep, and report for your shift in the morning,” Ro said.

  “Yes, sir,” Blackmer said, getting to his feet. “Thank you, Captain.” As he started toward the door, Ro reached out and stopped him with a touch to his arm.

  “Jeff, have you been seeing one of the counselors?”

  “Not recently, no,” Blackmer said. “I did go to see Lieutenant Knezo a few times, but that was in the days right after the assassination.”

  “I’d like you to go again, as often as you need to,” Ro said. “Consult with Valeska or one of the other counselors and see what they think is appropriate.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  Ro offered a tight-lipped smile, and then Blackmer exited the way he had entered. She watched him go, then went back to her desk. She sat down again and collected her padd, intending to move on from approving the duty roster to reviewing the latest proposals for scientific experiments on the starbase. She read through the first one, an astrophysical project involving the examination of galaxies with active galactic nuclei, in search of something called a boson star. Ro had never heard of the theoretical object, and the description in Lieutenant Prekka’s request did little to make the concept clear. The captain would have to consult with Lieutenant Commander Candlewood for both an explanation of the experiment and an evaluation of its merits.

  Ro flagged Prekka’s proposal for follow-up, then moved on to the next. Before she could read through it, her mind drifted back to what she had told her security chief: Starfleet Command has made inquiries about your performance. Those inquiries had been made to her by Admiral Los Nelatin Lovat, an Alonis who had served in Starfleet for half a century. Lovat asked a great many questions about Blackmer, and indicated that they had come from multiple individuals within the Starfleet hierarchy.

  The admiral had seemed satisfied with her defense of DS9’s security chief, but that hadn’t been the only reason she’d contacted Ro. Lovat questioned the captain’s own leadership abilities. The admiral didn’t identify the source of those concerns, but Ro knew that they had to be driven by Akaar.

  The captain hadn’t enjoyed her grilling by Lovat, and so she’d responded strongly. Afterward, though, she chose not to care about it. She would continue performing her duties aboard Deep Space 9 until they decided to take command away from her.

  “Hub to Captain Ro.” The voice belonged to that night’s gamma shift duty officer, Lieutenant Aleco Vel.

  “This is Ro. Go ahead, Vel.”

  “Captain, we’re receiving a transmission from our security team on Endalla,” Aleco said. “Crewman Hava reports that two civilian vessels have breached the security perimeter. Both are carrying high explosives.”

  Ro was on her feet and heading for the Hub even before Aleco finished speaking.

  20

  Cenn arrived in the Hub less than two minutes after receiving the message from the captain. He had been in the Bajoran temple on the Plaza—not his regular visit there, not one he had planned to make, but when his spirits had flagged that evening, for no particular reason he could isolate, he decided to bolster himself with a few minutes of meditation and prayer. He had just entered the temple when his combadge vibrated; he had temporarily disabled its audio signal, so as not to disturb the other adherents present. He left the temple immediately and reactivated his combadge, which delivered Ro’s message.

  “Colonel Cenn, report to the Hub. There’s been a breach on Endalla.”

  The first officer dashed from the turbolift between the tactical and primary engineering stations, and down the three steps into the Well. There, Captain Ro stood with the starbase’s second officer, chief of security, and tactical officer. Above the situation table, a translucent holographic reproduction of Bajor’s largest moon hung in midair. Cenn saw a pair of glowing red dots moving above the globe, at positions far removed from each other. He also spied a green dot in a lower quadrant of Endalla, at the edge of the dark plain, which he knew marked the location of the security outpost that DS9 personnel maintained.

  “Take the Defiant,” the captain said to Stinson as Cenn walked up to the group. When she saw the first officer, she said, “Desca, you’re here, good.” She motioned toward the hologram. “We’ve just received word from our outpost on Endalla that there have been two incursions past the security perimeter.” She pointed to the two red dots. “They’re both civilian craft, carrying two Bajorans each, as well as large quantities of explosives.”

  “The Ohalavaru,” Cenn said, his jaw clenching.

  “We think so,” Ro said. “They refuse to respond to repeated hails, and there’s no indication of any malfunction on either vessel. Lieutenant Shul has sent both runabouts to intercept, but that’s left the outpost unprotected. I’ve ordered Commander Stinson to take the Defiant to Endalla, with Dalin Slaine at tactical and a security detachment led by Commander Blackmer. I haven’t had much luck speaking to anybody in the Bajoran government lately, so I’d like you to contact the minister of defense and the minister of state. Maybe Ranz or Gandal will talk to you. Let them know what’s going on, and tell them we’ll keep them apprised of the situation as it develops.” Without waiting for a reply, the captain looked over to Slaine and Blackmer. “Zivan, Jeff, our preference is to capture the trespassers alive, but don’t take any unnecessary risks to make that happen. Those people are carrying explosives, so we have to assume they intend to use them.”

  “Understood,” Blackmer said, and Slaine nodded.

  “Good,” Ro said, and then, to all of them, “Go.”

  As Stinson, Slaine, and Blackmer started for a turbolift, Cenn said, “Captain, before the Defiant departs, may I have a word with you?” The trio of officers heard him and stopped at the top of the steps between the communications and operations stations.

  Cenn saw confusion on Ro’s face, but she hesitated only an instant. “One moment,” she told Stinson, Slaine, and Blackmer, and then she quickly climbed the same steps that Cenn had just desce
nded. The first officer followed her around to the right, past the tactical station, and through the door in the outer bulkhead that led into the conference room.

  The form of the compartment echoed that of the captain’s office. Wedge-shaped, it broadened along the longer, side bulkheads, until it reached the wide, rounded rectangle of an exterior port. Cenn spotted several vessels floating freely in space around that part of the starbase—a Bajoran transport, a Frunalian science vessel, and a Klaestron freighter.

  Ro stopped at the near end of the long conference table, which mimicked the shape of the compartment, and then she turned to face Cenn. “What is it, Desca?” she asked. “Time may be critical in sending the Defiant to Endalla.”

  “I know,” Cenn said. “I wanted to ask if I could lead this mission aboard the Defiant.”

  “You?” the captain said. Cenn understood her obvious surprise. Before accepting the post of Bajoran liaison aboard Deep Space 9, Cenn had spent virtually his entire life on Bajor, rarely traveling offworld. Similarly, since his assignment to the starbase—and before it, to its predecessor, the erstwhile Terok Nor—he had mostly remained aboard, other than for visits back to Bajor. “Have you ever requested to take command of the Defiant?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Captain.”

  “Then I have to ask: why now?”

  Cenn did not dissemble. “Because I take the Ohalavaru attacks on Endalla personally.”

  “First of all, we don’t know with certainty that it’s the Ohalavaru aboard those ships, and secondly, they haven’t ‘attacked’ anything yet.” Ro paused for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. “But even if it is the Ohalavaru, and even if they do intend to attack, why would you take that personally? I know that you’re devout, Desca, but I also know you don’t take offense just because somebody believes something different than you do.”

  “I absolutely do not dispute the right of the Ohalavaru—or anybody else—to their own beliefs,” Cenn said. “I disagree with those beliefs, and it would end there if all we were talking about were beliefs. But we’re not. I resent the violent attempts of the Ohalavaru to prove their doctrine, their willingness to destroy Bajoran property, to put lives at risk, and as we’ve seen in the past, even to kill.”

  “Desca, I understand your anger,” the captain said. “The violence that some of the Ohalavaru have perpetrated upsets me, too, even if it’s not an affront to my faith like it is with you. But because it does offend you, I’m concerned that your emotions could interfere with your command duties, with your ability to make good decisions.”

  “That won’t happen, Captain, I promise you,” Cenn said. “I have strong feelings about this, but I don’t want to lead the mission in order to exact vengeance on the Ohalavaru. I want to take command of the Defiant and participate in the mission because it means something to me.”

  Cenn could see in Ro’s eyes the calculations she was making. “I don’t want any bloodshed if we can avoid it,” she finally said. “Especially when it comes to our crew, but I want to apprehend the intruders with a minimum of violence, if at all possible.”

  “I understand,” Cenn said. “If it helps to know, I’d prefer to capture them, too. In the interests of justice, they should stand trial for their crimes.”

  “You’ve been my first officer for more than six years,” Ro said, as though making the argument to herself. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ro said. “Now go.”

  Cenn raced back into the Hub, and then, with Stinson, Slaine, and Blackmer in tow, headed into the turbolift, on his way to Docking Bay One and Defiant.

  21

  Aboard Defiant, Stinson sat at a peripheral station on the port side of the bridge. Moved from the center seat over to crew the communications console because Colonel Cenn had taken command of the ship, the second officer felt out of place. No, it’s not that I feel out of place, Stinson thought. It’s that the mission feels rushed and awkward to me. Despite Cenn’s higher position in DS9’s hierarchy, Stinson could not pretend that the Bajoran Militia officer had more experience than he did commanding a starship.

  But as Defiant settled into a parking orbit above Endalla, all of those thoughts fell away from the second officer’s mind, and he stood up from his chair. The scene on the main view­screen demanded his attention. The magnified vista showed the lunar outpost, its circular roof and the surrounding environs partially buried beneath layers of debris, which continued to rain down. The structure appeared intact, and communications with Crewman Hava during the trip from DS9 confirmed that Endalla One, though battered, had survived the explosion on the moon, as had both Hava and Cardok.

  The great plain of dark glass had not. At its center, a long, narrow fissure sliced along the ragged contours of Endalla’s surface. The sleek, glassy region—itself created in an inferno unleashed by a destructive attack—had been left in tatters by the latest assault. The jagged outline of the newly formed crevasse stretched across the moon like a gaping wound.

  “Reopen the channel to the outpost,” said Colonel Cenn from the command chair. Lieutenant Commander Blackmer stood beside him.

  For a moment, Stinson did not react. Although he had worked the communications console during the journey from DS9—contacting not only Hava and Cardok at Endalla One, but Shul and Ansarg aboard Yolja, and ch’Larn and Walenista aboard Glyrhond—the second officer had grown accustomed to commanding Defiant whenever the captain remained on the starbase. With a jolt of realization, as well as more frustration then he knew he should indulge, Stinson jumped back to his station and operated his controls. “Channel open, Colonel.”

  “Defiant to Endalla One,” Cenn said.

  “This is Shul at Endalla One,” came the reply. According to the lieutenant’s earlier report, he and Ansarg had been returning to the outpost aboard Yolja when the explosion had rocked the moon. Afterward, the runabout set down beside Endalla One, and the security officers transported over to the outpost.

  When he looked back at the main viewer, Stinson could just distinguish the bow of Yolja extending out from behind the outpost. The image of Endalla One and the surrounding lunar surface, usually an inert display, contained a strange, creeping movement. The dark remnants of the explosion fell slowly in the moon’s lower gravity, trailing ash behind them.

  “Lieutenant, the Defiant is now in orbit above the outpost,” Cenn said. “What is the status of the ship that triggered the explosion?” Ensign Ansarg had reported seeing the vessel fly into the heart of the destruction.

  “Since the detonation, we’ve seen no further sign of the ship.”

  “Could flying into the explosion have been an act of suicide?” Cenn asked.

  “It could have been, sir,” Shul said. “But it also might not have been intentional. Perhaps their helm or engines failed.”

  “Or perhaps they intended to follow the course they did, and they haven’t been destroyed,” Blackmer suggested. “Have you had an opportunity to scan the chasm that the explosion formed?”

  “We have,” Shul said. “There’s some sort of interference impeding the sensors. It could be a function of the moon’s composition at that depth, but we need to conduct a closer, more detailed examination.”

  “Understood,” Cenn said, and he gestured toward Slaine, who sat to Stinson’s right, at the tactical station. The dalin immediately began operating the ship’s sensors. “And what is your status, Lieutenant?”

  “We’re still running diagnostics on all our systems,” Shul said. “Both the outpost and the Yolja were pounded by debris, but neither appears to have suffered anything more than minor damage. Some repairs will be necessary on Endalla One, but we’re in no imminent jeopardy.”

  “What about injuries to the crew?”

  “We had a few falls, some contusions, and I think I might have broken my little finger, but we have
no major issues.”

  “We’re going to transport you up to the Defiant,” Cenn said. “We have a security team standing by to relieve you, and we’ll also be sending down engineers to complete the diagnostics and make repairs.”

  “Colonel, we can finish our tour here,” Shul said. Stinson knew that the security officers stationed at the outpost had three more days remaining on their assignment. “We’ve got a medkit, so I can set my finger.”

  Stinson saw Blackmer lean in toward the command chair and say something beneath his breath, which drew a smile from the first officer. “I appreciate your dedication to duty, ‘Doctor’ Shul,” Cenn said, delivering the words not as a rebuke, but with a comrades-in-arms feel. “I’ll give you a few minutes to pack up your belongings, but in the meantime, lower your shields so we can send you some visitors.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shul said.

  “Contact Ensign Clark in the transporter room when you’re ready to beam up. Cenn out.” Stinson dutifully closed the channel, anticipating the first officer’s next order, which the colonel issued at once. “Open a channel to the Glyrhond.”

  Stinson finished working his controls. “Channel open, sir.”

  “Defiant to Glyrhond.”

  “Glyrhond here. This is ch’Larn.” As Defiant had approached Endalla, ch’Larn had reported that he and Walenista had taken the crews of the two other invading vessels into custody. In both cases, according to the lieutenant, it required only warning phaser blasts across the bows of each ship. Stinson guessed that, even running with shields up, the crews of such small craft, carrying their cargo of dangerous explosives, would not want to take direct fire from energy weapons. Both pair of Bajorans surrendered quickly and without further incident.

  “Lieutenant,” Cenn said, “what is your status?”

  “We have disarmed and restrained our prisoners in the rear compartment of the runabout,” ch’Larn said. “We have both vessels in tow and are headed to the outpost. We’ll be there shortly.”