The Long Night

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Finally Vukcevich's voice came over the comm unit. "The transport was a success."

  "The station's shields just went back up," Ensign Harsch said.

  "Good luck, Doctor," Sisko said quietly.

  It took them exactly eighteen minutes to rig up a duplicate cold-sleep chamber. They used one of Bashir's diagnostic tables and his frozen injury unit along with parts ordered through the replicator.

  Jury-rigged at best.

  But it would have to do.

  Bashir hoped his luck would hold out. It had so far. His colleagues from the starships were perfect compliments to him. Dr. Wasner had worked with existing cold-sleep cultures on a recent mission. Dr. Silverstein had specialized in ice damage on the cellular level at the Academy. The three of them had enough experience between them to resurrect the Iceman of Sigma Delta Six.

  They would need it.

  Silverstein had nearly walked when Bashir explained their mission. "You can't really expect us to revive the Supreme Ruler after eight hundred years of cold sleep?" she asked. "If we fail, it will mean our careers."

  Wasner had looked at her sharply.

  "So I have been told," Bashir said. "So let's not fail."

  She had said nothing until the Supreme Ruler beamed into their jury-rigged cold-sleep chamber. "Oh, my heavens," she said. "He's little more than a boy."

  "That'll help," Wasner said. "And his condition's stable."

  Step one down, Bashir thought. Only a dozen more impossibilities to go.

  Ribe returned to the small room off the bridge. He couldn't stand the celebration. Fear made his skin clammy and his palms sweat. He would disappoint his people either way. If the sabotage were discovered, it would destroy the belief in the government his family had so carefully cultivated.

  And if the Nibix were destroyed, it would destroy his people's hope.

  Hope, though, could be rebuilt.

  He bent over his own private communicator and sent a scrambled hail.

  On his tiny screen, the Grand Nagus of the Ferengi appeared. He was a hideously ugly man with age-spotted wrinkled flesh, a bulbous nose, and the largest ears Ribe had ever seen.

  "What? Unless you can offer me latinum or a place on the Nibix, you are wasting my time," the nagus said.

  "Then I'm not wasting your time," Ribe said. He shuddered at the raspy sound of the nagus's voice. "I would like to make a proposition to you."

  "I'm all ears," the nagus said.

  That he was. Ribe swallowed the comment back. "I am Hibar Ribe of the Jibetian High Council. We are prepared to offer you half the wealth of the Nibix if you can prevent the ship from docking at Deep Space Nine."

  "Couldn't negotiate with Sisko on your own, could you?" the nagus asked. "Doesn't surprise me. He's one of the toughest negotiators in the galaxy."

  Ribe didn't care about Sisko. "Are you interested?"

  "For ninety percent of the take," the nagus said.

  "Ninety percent?" Ribe choked. "Based on what?"

  "Based on the fact that we've nearly developed a way to break through the Defiant's shields and confiscate all the wealth for ourselves. You'd get the remaining ten percent for making things easier for us."

  "Nearly developed?" Ribe repeated. "Then you haven't developed anything. And you might not before the ship docks."

  "We will," the nagus said, but he didn't sound too confident.

  "Really?" Ribe said. "It doesn't matter to me if you board the ship or not."

  "It doesn't?" the nagus asked.

  "No," Ribe said. "Because if you refuse to help us, I'll destroy the Nibix myself."

  "Destroy?" the nagus said. "You can't destroy it. That's the wealthiest ship in the galaxy."

  "Money means nothing to me," Ribe said.

  "Clearly," the nagus said. His ears had moved forward in apparent shock. "We'll do it for ninety percent."

  "Fifty," Ribe said.

  "I need to hire a few other ships," the nagus said, "and I have to make a profit. Eighty-five percent."

  "I offer you sixty percent," Ribe said.

  "Eighty," the nagus responded.

  "Seventy," Ribe said.

  "Seventy-five," the nagus said. "Done," Ribe said.

  "Done? Just like that?" the nagus asked. "No wonder you were no match for Sisko. He'd have held firm at fifty percent."

  "I can go back to that if you want," Ribe said.

  "No, no, there's no need for that." The nagus grinned. "Seventy-five percent will do just fine."

  "We have a deal then?" Ribe asked.

  "A deal," the nagus said. "We'll make sure the ship never makes the station. For seventy-five percent of the take."

  "Excellent," Ribe said and signed off. He had the better part of the deal, although the nagus didn't know that.

  Seventy-five percent of nothing was, of course, still nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  CHAPTER

  25

  JAKE STOOD BACK and watched while Odo tried to override the security code for the ship's doors. His fingers moved quickly, but Jake was getting impatient. He knew they were still on some sort of time deadline. He just didn't know why.

  He was about to suggest that Odo slip under the door and open it from the inside when Odo said, "Got it!"

  The door eased back, letting out the overpowering odor of rotting garbage. Jake's eyes burned. "What kind of ship is this?" he asked. "A Caxtonian vessel?"

  "No," Odo said. "It belongs to an Andorian trader who claimed he was here for repairs. I suspect the repairs have been done for a long time."

  "Do you think we should go in there?" He glanced at the security guard. "I mean, there's only three of us."

  "That's more than enough," Odo said and walked through the open door.

  The security guard stepped to one side, and after a moment, Jake went in.

  The stench was worse inside, and its cause was easy to locate. The trader hadn't dumped his garbage into the recycling system. It sat in bags and boxes near the door, as if it—not the security codes—were meant to keep intruders out.

  If so, it nearly worked.

  Jake gagged but kept going, waiting until he got past the worst of the smell before he looked around.

  The trader's ship was a small cargo vessel. All of the metal walls had been painted, each a different mismatched color. Bright green next to hot pink, pale blue beside canary yellow, burnt orange beside vivid purple. The walls hurt the eyes as much as the stench had hurt the nose.

  "They spend all their time in here?" Jake asked.

  "The Andorian idea of beauty does not match most of the rest of the galaxy's, I'm afraid," Odo said. He had already crossed through the sleeping compartments and was in the small corridor that led to the bridge.

  "Obviously," Jake said. He gathered his clothes tightly around himself, glad they were already ruined. Otherwise he would have to work to get the stink off them, and that would probably be impossible.

  The sleeping quarters were a mess of unwashed laundry, filthy uniforms, and half-eaten plates of food. Jake had never seen such slobbishness. He stepped into the corridor with Odo who put a finger to his mouth.

  Ahead, on the small bridge, a mauve arm rested on the pilot's chair. They couldn't see the person to whom it belonged.

  "Let me go first," Odo said.

  He stalked to the door of the cockpit, opened his mouth, then indicated that Jake should follow.

  Jake was surprised that Odo didn't give the Andorian warning. It was only fair. Odo usually did that.

  Jake approached the door, and then he realized why from the different smell.

  The Andorian was dead.

  "Who killed him?" Jake whispered.

  "My guess is that he killed himself," Odo said and pointed to the fluted vial on the floor beside the chair. "I think if we test that, we'll find poison. Or something poisonous to Andorian traders."

  Jake frowned. He didn't understand why anyone would do that. There appeared to be no clues on the bridge it
self. It still looked functional. He stepped farther in. The panels in front blinked bright blue.

  "What's this?" he asked. He didn't like what he was seeing. Not at all.

  Odo turned and glanced at the panels just as Jake realized what he was seeing.

  "It's a core overload," Jake said.

  Another blue light flashed on. Then another. Odo pointed to the rest of the paneling. "He dumped the core safeguards before he killed himself," Odo said. "And I don't know enough about these ships to do anything about it."

  "An overload doesn't usually take very long, Odo. How long has this guy been dead?"

  Odo touched him. "I would say an hour, maybe more."

  "That's too long," Jake said, his stomach clamping down into a tight knot. He remembered studying core overloads during his work with Chief O'Brien. "We've got to get out of here before this ship blows."

  "Move!" Odo said, shoving Jake toward the entrance.

  They ran through the corridor, into the sleeping quarters, over the piles of laundry, and back into the room filled with garbage. Jake couldn't hold his breath. He had to breathe the fetid air, and it made him choke.

  The door was still open, with the security guard outside. "Get out of the way!" Odo shouted.

  She did.

  As they passed through the door, Odo hit his comm badge. "Major, we have an emergency in docking bay five. The core of the ship is overloading and will explode at any moment. Release the docking clamps and jettison the ship on my mark."

  "Understood," Kira said as Jake scrambled through the airlock. Odo slammed his hand on the airlock button and hesitated just long enough to make sure both inner and outer doors of the lock were closing. He shoved Jake and the security guard down the corridor deeper into the station.

  "Now, Major," Odo shouted.

  Behind him Jake could hear the sounds of the docking clamps releasing and then four small explosions as the ship was pushed away from the docking bay. Ten seconds later a much larger explosion shook the entire section.

  Jake slammed into the wall. Odo flew past him. The guard landed on her side behind him.

  The sound was deafening.

  Jake glanced back down the corridor at the airlock doors, hoping that they had remained closed.

  They had.

  Odo had landed on his feet. Jake wondered if that was his particular skill. Odo reached over and helped him up. "Are you all right?"

  The security guard was scrambling to her feet on her own. She nodded.

  Jake could feel the bruises start. He would be sore the next day. "I'm fine," he said.

  "Odo?" Major Kira's voice demanded. "Odo?" "We made it out," Odo said.

  There was a short pause. "Good. Join me in Ops as soon as you can. I think we're in for a fight."

  Jake took a breath. He had nearly died there. He didn't want to go to Ops, didn't want to know what else could happen. But he had no real idea what was going on. He didn't even know who was fighting whom or why.

  Or where his dad was.

  "Why don't you go to your quarters?" Odo asked, obviously noting Jake's distress.

  Jake shook his head. "You said we should see this through to the end. And I will."

  The explosion of the ship startled Sisko. The brilliant orange and blue light spread in all directions. Pieces of the ship flew in all directions, some narrowly missed the docking ring of Deep Space Nine.

  "Hail Kira," he snapped.

  "I have her," said Ensign Kathé, who was already way ahead of him.

  "Major, what was that?"

  "A discovery of Odo's," she said. "That would have been the docking ring if he hadn't been on top of it."

  "Any injuries?"

  "Not on our side. Odo said the pilot was dead before they got into the ship."

  "That was too close, Major. Have the other ships on the ring searched, and then confine their crew to quarters on the station."

  "Sir—"

  "Do it, Major." He signed off. He didn't want that explosion to be a dress rehearsal for the Nibix. "Ensign Coleman, what kind of ship was that?"

  "An Andorian trader vessel. One of the others is hailing us and has been for some time. He wants access to the Nibix in exchange for the ship we destroyed."

  "We destroyed?" Sisko frowned. "Tell him no access. And tell him to leave this area."

  "I don't think he will, sir."

  Sisko looked up. The Andorian trader ships had moved in beside the Grand Nagus's ship. So had Jepson's ship. It looked as if they were forming a fleet of their own.

  He couldn't believe they would think they could get away with just taking the Nibix out from under the noses of the Jibetian fleet and the Federation. They didn't have the firepower.

  Unless they were working for the Jibetians, and the Cardassians joined in. The Ferengi and the mercenaries would have the power then to take the Nibix. And by so doing would bring a very bloody war to this sector.

  The explosion near the station was like the starting gun.

  "Hail that Andorian freighter," Sisko said, changing his mind.

  "There's no response, sir."

  The Andorian ships swung wide of the Ferengi vessels and headed toward the Madison.

  "Hail them, Mr. Coleman."

  "I am, sir."

  The Andorian ships opened phaser fire, the shots ricocheting aimlessly off the Madison's shields. So far, the Madison was not firing back. Higginbotham was obviously waiting to see what else was going to unfold.

  Two Ferengi ships peeled away from the formation, heading for the Idaho. They were firing phasers, quick, repeated blasts that made no dent in the Idaho's shields. The Idaho swung around and headed toward the Ferengi ships. Sisko grinned. Kiser knew the cowardice of Ferengi was legendary. He would get them to stop the attack if there was no profit in it.

  The remaining ships, led by Jepson, made a run at the Defiant. They were flying in a Y formation. The last ship, Sisko knew, would sail over the Defiant and head for the Nibix.

  "Double the strength of the shield extensions around the Nibix," he said. "And get ready, people. We have a battle on our hands."

  Jepson hit the Defiant with a barrage of photon torpedo fire. The ship rocked, and Ensign Harsch nearly fell out of his chair. "Sorry, sir," he said.

  "Keep your post, son," Sisko said. "Ensign Kathé, keep me informed as to what the Jibetians and the Cardassians are doing. Ensign Harsch, you let me know if anyone gets near the Nibix. Ensign Coleman, on Jepson's next pass, I want you to hit his underbelly with full phaser fire. His ship has a weakness in the shields near its engines. You'll only get one shot. Make it good."

  "Aye, sir." Coleman's voice was shaking.

  Sisko stood. The Ferengi ship in this formation belonged to the nagus. He was wrong. The Andorian ship wouldn't go for the Nibix. The nagus would.

  The ships had swung around for another attack. This time as Jepson flew overhead, Sisko shouted, "Coleman. Now!"

  Coleman aimed the phaser fire and the Jepson's shields flared red. The red swelled, then the shields failed. The ship exploded like a kid's balloon against a pin.

  The explosion rocked the Defiant.

  "Ensign Kathé, get me the nagus."

  "He's not answering the hails, sir."

  "Then send this message. Tell him his ship is next if he doesn't stop this attack."

  "Aye, sir." She hit her panel. "Still no response."

  "Ensign Harsch, examine that Ferengi ship for weakness." Sisko glanced up. The Idaho had opened fire on the other Ferengi ships, but they were holding their ground. The Madison had crippled one trader vessel. The other two had drawn back, outside of fire range. So far, the Madison was not pursuing.

  And the Cardassians hadn't made a move.

  Neither had the Jibetians.

  Sisko didn't like this.

  The Defiant rocked with another blast, this one coming from the Andorian trader ship.

  "Where's the nagus?" Sisko asked as he grabbed his command chair for balance.


  "Over the Nibix. He's firing on it, sir."

  "Firing on it! What is he doing? Put me on screen," Sisko snapped.

  "They have a channel open, sir, but they're not responding.

  "That's good enough," he said. "Zek, this is Commander Benjamin Sisko. If you fire on the Long Night again, we will consider your action a declaration of war upon the Federation. Is that clear?"

  The nagus's face suddenly appeared on screen. "You owe us the right to examine the Nibix."

  "You're not going to get it if you destroy the ship," Sisko said. "And you're certainly not going to get it if you fire upon any Federation vessel. I order you to stop now, Zek, before it's too late."

  The Andorian trader ship hit the Defiant with a barrage of phasers.

  "Our left shield is buckling, sir," Harsch said. "The extensions have weakened it."

  "Keep it working, son," Sisko said. "Zek? Did you hear me?"

  "I heard you, Commander. I also heard you're in trouble. You can't take me on."

  "But the Bosewell can. And if they have trouble, we have two more starships here and the station's firepower. Give it up, Zek."

  Another hit from the trader ship.

  "Sir, the shields—"

  "Ensign Coleman," Sisko said, "one photon torpedo to the trader's port side."

  "But, sir—"

  "Do it now, Ensign."

  Coleman did. The torpedo connected and demolished the trader's shields. It blew a hole in the port side, and all the lights on the vessel winked out.

  "What's the ship's status, Ensign?"

  "They've lost life support, sir."

  "Zek," Sisko said. "Zek, your friends will die without your help. And we'll destroy you if we have to. The ship we're towing is under our protection."

  "The Jibetians don't want you to have it."

  "The Federation and the Jibetians have an agreement," Sisko said. "And you shouldn't eavesdrop on other people's private communications. This isn't a Ferengi concern."

  "It's always a Ferengi concern when profit is involved."

  "If you attack the Nibix," Sisko said, "it is no longer about profit. It's about profiteering and war. Think how much a war with the Federation will cost your people, Zek. Think about it. Sisko out."