The Long Night

by Dean Wesley Smith

  "The Bajoran religion accepts other cultures," Kira said, unable to let the misconception through. "I wouldn't be on this station if it didn't."

  "Forgive me, Major. I had presumed much on little knowledge." Kidath bowed again. "Perhaps it would be best if I spoke with your commander."

  "I think you need to go through Federation channels," Kira said, her palms flat on the desktop. A trickle of sweat ran down her spinal column. He was trying to trick her, to force her to tell him that Commander Sisko was gone.

  "You are free to speak with me, but your commander is not?"

  Kira smiled her most charming smile, thankful that she had had a few hours to read about the Nibix before this contact. "I had thought that your communication had something to do with Deep Space Nine business. The Federation takes a dim view of any discussion about your lost ship. They are quite protective of it. Any type of communiqué about it must be referred to them. Commander Sisko could tell you no more than I could. I'm merely trying, as you say, to cut through the official red tape and save you some time."

  "Thank you, Major." Kidath smiled back at her. "I appreciate your help—and your surprisingly deep knowledge of my people's greatest tragedy and greatest hope."

  His image winked off her screen. She clenched her fists and then opened them again, biting back a curse. She hadn't fooled him at all. He had made that clear from his last remark. He knew that Commander Sisko had taken the Defiant in search of the Nibix. She would have to let Odo know there was a leak somewhere.

  She reached for her comm badge when the computer screen filled, letting her know that a special security-coded message was coming in from Starfleet.

  She responded to the hail with the proper code, and Admiral Wolfe's face appeared.

  "Major Kira," he said without preamble, "I understand that Commander Sisko has taken the Defiant on a mission to find the Nibix. Is that so?"

  Kira felt like a child caught with her hands in someone else's mess. "Yes, sir," she said.

  "His timing couldn't be worse," the admiral said, looking at someone beyond the screen.

  "Commander Sisko believed that he had to act before anyone else did," Kira said slowly.

  "I am not questioning his decision," the admiral said, "although I do wish this had waited a year or two. What are his chances of success?"

  "I know little about the Nibix, sir," Kira said, "except what I learned this afternoon. However, the commander and Lieutenant Dax have a great deal of knowledge about the ship, and they are convinced—"

  "That's enough, Major. You've answered me. Have Commander Sisko contact me when he returns and not before. We can't even trust secured channels on this thing."

  Clearly, Kira thought. "Admiral, a moment before I received your communiqué, Jiber Kidath, a member of the Jibetian High Council, contacted me. He wanted to know if Commander Sisko was searching for the Nibix. I did not answer him, sir, but he took the fact that I had any knowledge at all about the Nibix as an affirmative."

  Admiral Wolfe nodded. "He would with the information I'm sure he has."

  "To be honest, sir," Kira said, "I have no idea how he or you even knew to ask the question. Commander Sisko and I thought we had this mission under wraps."

  "You obviously have a security breach, Major. I suggest you find it."

  "Yes, sir," Kira said.

  "We are sending three starships to your area. They are to be used as you and Commander Sisko see fit. Lock down the station and be prepared for anything. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir," Kira said.

  "And one more thing," the admiral said. "If you have not contacted the Defiant since they arrived at their destination, do not do so now unless absolutely needed. No point in taking any undue chances."

  Kira nodded. "Understood."

  "Good luck," the admiral said. "There is a lot riding on the outcome of this."

  The screen blinked out, and then the files on the Nibix returned. Kira took her hands off the desk. Wet palm prints marred the surface. The leading edge of the storm had just hit. She had no idea how the news got out, but it had. It was time to get prepared. If the admiral ordered her to lock down the station, then she'd lock it down tighter than it had ever been locked.

  She stood and went through the door into Ops on a run, shouting orders as she went.

  CHAPTER

  8

  JULIAN BASHIR never expected to find himself in the commander's chair of a starship. Heading sickbay, yes, but the commander's chair, never. He'd had the training in the Academy—they all had—but medical officers were allowed to cut some of the niceties of command short while they concentrated on six semesters of rudimentary alien anatomy and two years of starship medicine, or, as it was called among the medical students, six ways to save a dying captain using a tricorder, a thermometer, and a comm badge.

  His first forty-five minutes in the chair had been astonishingly easy. The ensigns Commander Sisko had assigned to the mission seemed to know the routine. Bashir had only to sit nervously in the chair, monitor the life signs on his scanner, and wait for his next order.

  The calm was too good to last.

  "Sir?" Ensign Coleman's cautious voice drawled the word. Long and low and uncertain. "I think we have a problem."

  "What is it, Ensign?" Bashir leaned back in the chair. At the word problem, his heart rate had increased and his respiration became shallow. Panic, in layman's terms. Something he could not allow in this chair any more than he could allow it in the infirmary. He forced himself to breathe deeply.

  "I've been monitoring the Cardassian border, sir, and well, something strange is going on."

  No time for panic reduction. He'd have to run at full adrenaline. "Ensign, by the time you tell me what's happening, the crisis will be over."

  "Ah, yes, sir. Sorry, sir. But it seems—"

  At that moment, Commander Sisko's voice boomed over the open channel. "Doctor, I need you here immediately."

  "Commander, just a moment. We seem to have a situation here." Bashir glanced at Ensign Coleman, waiting for an answer. Commander Sisko did not respond, which Bashir took as the moment he had requested. "Well, Ensign?"

  "A fleet of Cardassian ships is massing on the border. Sir. I think," Ensign Coleman said.

  "You think?" Bashir's voice rose a notch too high.

  "I have the reading, too, sir," Ensign Kathé said. "There's no doubt. We have a fleet of Cardassian ships on that border. They're combat ready. They seem to see us."

  "Doctor!" Sisko's voice boomed from below. "I said now."

  "Forgive me, sir," Bashir said. "We have a slight—"

  "Ensign Kathé can handle the Defiant for a few minutes. I need you here."

  "With all due respect to Ensign Kathé," Bashir said, nodding at her, "I believe someone with more experience needs to be on the bridge. A fleet of Cardassian warships are gathering on the border. They seem to be interested in us, sir."

  "The Cardassians?" Bashir could hear the frown in Sisko's voice.

  "Sir," said Ensign Coleman, "they're changing position."

  "Should we cloak?" Ensign Dodds asked.

  "Not yet," Bashir said. He needed time to think, and he had no time. Maybe he should have taken only five semesters of rudimentary alien physiology.

  "Doctor," Sisko said, "I still need you down here with all the equipment you can carry. Bring anything you need for cold-sleep revival. Ensign Dodds, I want you to assemble and beam down three days' worth of supplies to Dax's coordinates, along with heating equipment and warm cloths. I need that immediately. I assume it will take you a few minutes, Doctor."

  "Yes, sir, but the fleet—"

  "I'll beam aboard in two minutes. Ensign Kathé, be prepared to leave orbit. Doctor, I expect you to be down here in three. Sisko out."

  And that was how command decisions were made. Bashir could speak that quickly only in the infirmary. He was already moving toward the lift. It would take him nearly three minutes to gather his equipment. Ensign Dodds was ahead
of him, running at full speed. Fortunately for her, the survival gear, including dried food, was all kept in one place.

  "Ensign Kathé," Bashir said, "you have the comm until Commander Sisko arrives. Ensign Coleman, keep an eye on that fleet."

  And then Bashir left the bridge.

  Three minutes and eight seconds later he beamed into the dead ship below.

  Kira hadn't stopped moving since she spoke to Admiral Wolfe. She hadn't located the leak, but then she hadn't really tried. She needed to prevent anything else from happening first.

  She had had brief contact with Odo before whipping up a storm in Ops. Fortunately the day crew included Tappan, O'Brien's right-hand man. Kira was terrified that with her luck the last few hours, everything in the station would break down as well.

  She had stopped at the science station and was double-checking the space around the station herself, not trusting anyone else to this task, while giving orders to the crew around her.

  "Are all the ships locked into docking clamps?" she demanded.

  "Major, you just gave the order a moment ago," Ensign Sneed said from his post near Communications.

  "They should be locked by now, Ensign," Kira said. "This is all high priority. We have no time for mistakes or for daydreaming."

  "They're locked," Sneed said.

  "Good," she said. "Mr. Tappan, have the crews returned to their ships?"

  "Except for a group of Caxtonians that won't leave one of Quark's holosuites," Tappan said. He was hunched over the communications panel, his brown hair curled around his neck. "I've sent Security to pull them out."

  "Tell Security I want those Caxtonians on their ship in five minutes."

  "Already done, sir," Tappan said.

  She missed the regular crew. She missed Dax, if truth be told. But Dax was on the Defiant, exploring lost ships for treasure, while Kira had the entire station to deal with.

  She brought the screens up. "Mr. Tappan, I want this station to stand at yellow alert. Notify me the moment the Defiant returns."

  "Yes, Major," he said. The lights around Ops came on, and the yellow alert sounded.

  The hair rose on the back of Kira's neck. She was hoping for the Defiant at any moment now, hoping against hope that they hadn't found anything, that this was a false emergency, and that the Caxtonian lied. But judging by Quark's interest, Dax's silence, and Sisko's ill-disguised excitement, this sighting was probably not a false emergency.

  Two ensigns were monitoring interstation activity. Tappan was helping Kira monitor all communications. Odo was doing the same from Security. Three starships were on the way, and Kira would wager an entire month's pay that the Jibetians were as well. If Sisko didn't return, she would have to be the diplomat. Odo wasn't capable of it, and there was no one else with the knowledge to do so. Kira wished she had time to return to Sisko's office and finish her studies on the Nibix. But she didn't.

  Time had run out.

  She hit her comm badge. "Odo?"

  "Yes, Major?" Odo always managed to sound as if he were doing nothing, as if he had all the time in the world. She envied that trait.

  "Is everything locked down?"

  "We got the Caxtonians out of Quark's holosuite. They're going to their ship now. I've posted guards on every major intersection, and of course, I put a security screen around Quark's. He and Rom are locked inside, out of harm's way."

  Kira laughed. "Good thinking," she said. "Let me know when everything is buttoned up tight."

  She wished she could ask him if he'd found the source of the leaks, but that had better wait until she reached a place where they could talk in private.

  Odo signed off. Kira scanned the entire station, verifying what he told her. Then she turned her scans on Bajor. Everything looked normal there.

  "Major," Tappan said. He, too, managed that calm drawl. But, of course, he didn't know all that was at stake. She wasn't sure if she did either. "I just ran a long-range scan and picked up something odd."

  She stiffened. More trouble.

  "A fleet of Cardassian warships are massing on the Cardassian border."

  "A fleet?" Her old battle instincts rose. "Where are they? Are they headed for Bajor?"

  "No, Major. They seem to going away from Bajor as if they're going to head into deep space. But there's nothing in that direction."

  Except a red-star system filled with asteroids. Kira cursed softly. "Any sign of those Federation starships?"

  "None, sir."

  She leaned against the console. What would it mean to the Cardassians to discover the Nibix? The wealth? Or were they simply monitoring the Defiant? But that made no sense. If they were just monitoring the Defiant, they wouldn't have an entire fleet pointed in its direction. Maybe control of the Nibix would give them some power in their dealings with the Federation. It would clearly give them power in this quadrant. Power they didn't need.

  Unless she was making too much of the Nibix. Maybe the Cardassians were taking this moment, without Sisko on board, without the Defiant, to make a move against the station.

  Her mouth was dry. They should know by now that Kira Nerys was more than match for them.

  Maybe they thought she was on the Defiant, too.

  None of this made any sense. Better not to think.

  She had learned that a long time ago in the resistance. It was better to act.

  "Major," Tappan said, "the Cardassian fleet is moving and has changed course. It's heading this way."

  "Battle stations," Kira said. "Red alert."

  At last a fight. Something she understood. Something she did very, very well.

  CHAPTER

  9

  IT HAD TAKEN Jake and Nog a few wrong turns in the maze of narrow passageways and crawl spaces that led over, under, and behind rooms along the Promenade before they found a small spy area looking into Quark's Bar. The cleanliness of the passageways bothered Jake. He almost wished for the gray dust to return. He hoped these passageways had a different ventilation system because they overlooked the main part of the Promenade, although part of him wondered if they weren't clean because they overlooked the part of the Promenade still in use.

  As they wound their way toward Quark's, he had mentioned, in a whisper, that perhaps they should find Chief O'Brien and report this maze of tunnels. But this time, Nog was the one who wanted to go on. He had become enamored with the idea of finding a place to spy on his uncle, a place that would guarantee Nog would never go home to too much work or too much fighting again.

  When they found the room, its size surprised Jake. After that much work, he had expected to find a room the size of the first spy hole. This one was no bigger than a storage closet, and it had only one gratelike spy hole. A small stepladder led up to it. The spy hole smelled like Romulan ale and Caxtonian sweat, a nauseating combination.

  "This has got to be it," Nog whispered gleefully.

  "I think we should find Chief O'Brien." Anything to get away from the smell. Jake was willing to bet that this tiny room trapped all the noxious odors from Quark's.

  "Of course you do," Nog whispered. "Now that I've finally found something good about this place."

  "That's not it," Jake whispered. "I'm getting nervous."

  "Maybe because you're making too much noise." Nog climbed on the ladder. When he reached the top, he stood on tiptoe, trying to see through the grate. He couldn't even reach it. He braced himself to jump, but Jake stopped him, figuring a crash of Ferengi and ladder would probably bring the entire station to the room.

  "Someday," Nog whispered, "I'm going to build a place built for people my height."

  Jake frowned. Another detail fell into place. This was clearly Cardassian built then. If Quark had made the tunnels, everything would have been Ferengi height. "Let me see if I can look out this one."

  Nog climbed down, and Jake climbed up. The ladder was sturdier than it looked. A bead of sweat ran down his face. The room was hot and had grown hotter since they arrived. It was clearly built for
one spy, not two.

  Even with the ladder, the spy grate was too high for Jake to see through. But he could reach the top with his hands.

  "Boost me up," Nog whispered. "If you hold me, I'd be able to see."

  Jake didn't relish balancing Nog on the ladder top, but the quicker he tried, the quicker they could leave and inform the chief of the maze behind the Promenade.

  Nog climbed the ladder. Jake backed to the edge, braced himself against the wall, and cupped his hands. Nog stepped in them, his heavy shoes digging into Jake's palms. Nog pulled himself up to the spy grate and hung there for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

  "This is some kind of trick."

  "What is?"

  Their whispers had grown softer, as if they both expected someone to overhear them.

  "My uncle's bar is empty. It's never empty at this time of day. This is a trick."

  Jake wished he could see.

  "What's going on?" he whispered.

  "Nothing. There's not even a Dabo girl by the table.

  No one's—" Nog stopped speaking suddenly as the voice of his uncle filled the spy hole.

  "They can't keep my bar closed forever. And to keep us prisoner! I'll complain to Commander Sisko when he returns. Maybe then he'll do something about Odo."

  "I thought this had nothing to do with Odo." The second voice belonged to Nog's father, Rom. "I thought it had to do with that statue—"

  Quark's gasp echoed in the enclosed space. "Who did you mention the statue to?"

  "No one, brother."

  Nog signaled that he wanted to get down. When Jake lowered him, Nog didn't meet his gaze.

  "You had to have told someone."

  "I didn't, brother. But there were a lot of people in the bar at the time."

  "Well, I don't like this," Quark said. "It's interfering with my profits. I'll have to take it out of your salary …"

  Their voices faded. Nog had reached the floor, his head bowed. Jake climbed down.