Star Trek - DS9 011 - Devil In The Sky

by Неизвестный

  Fourteen levels above us." He met her gaze again.

  "Everything is calibrated properly now, Major. 1 won't lose her." "Good," Kira said.

  Then, over Kira's shoulder, sudden movement caught his eye. It was Ensign Wilkens almost flying down the tunnel in long, low bounds behind Major Kira. Something had gone wrong, he realized.

  "Major!" he said, "I think we have trouble." Kira whirled. "What's wrong?" she demanded of Wilkens.

  Wilkens tried to stop, but couldn't in the low gravity. Julian braced himself and grabbed the man's arm. Kira grabbed his other arm, and together they managed to stop him.

  "The mine ahead's in use--" Wilkens gasped.

  "There's a big cavern--slave labor--lots of people in chains--" The news stunned Julian. So much for Dax's auto- mated mine, he thought grimly. He had a strange !

  feeling things had just become complicated. It posed a i certain moral dilemma, too--how could they leave those people here? They'd have to inform the Federa- ' tion when they got back to DS9. Perhaps a rescue ~ mission could be mounted in time to save them.

  "How far away are they?" Kira asked Wilkens.

  "Two hundred meters, around the corner then straight." "Did they spot you?" "No." He stood straighter, his breathing slowing to normal. "Ensign Aponte stayed to watch them." "I'll take a look," Kira said. She turned to Ensign Parks. "Wait for Jonsson and Muckerheide, then fill them in. We'll be back as soon as possible." "What about me, Major?" Julian asked. If there was going to be any action he wanted to be part of it.

  "What if you need a doctor?" "Keep an eye on that Horta!" she said. "Ttan is our first concern. I don't want the Cardassians moving her without my hearing about it first." "Major," Wilkens said. "There's one other thing.

  Those prisonersmthey're all Bajorans!" Great, Julian thought. Just when he thought things couldn't get more complicated, they took a horrible turn for the worse.

  "What?" Kira exclaimed. "Show me!" "This way." Together, they sprinted up the tunnel like terrestrial gazelles. In seconds they vanished around the curve of the tunnel.

  Julian could only shake his head. Why did things have to be so difficult?

  Swallowing nervously, Major Kira crept forward on her hands and knees. She had a bad feeling inside.

  Bajoran slave labor. The Cardassians were cruel in the best of times. They had no respect for prisoners' rights and only showed mercy and compassion when it suited some greater plan. Prisoners here would have the worst of all possible worlds.

  The tunnel ended in midair roughly ten meters above the floor of a large cavern. As she neared the edge, she dropped down on her belly and inched forward until she could see everything below without being seen herselfi Her breath caught in her throat. Below, literally dozens of Bajoran men and women moved about what would have been backbreaking tasks in normal gravity. Some swung picks; others broke rocks with sledgehammers; still more shoveled gravel into a train of huge six-wheeled carts. All of the prisoners wore metal shackles around their wrists and ankles. All of them looked half-starved and badly abused. Most had blue-black bruises on their faces, and many had half-healed whip marks across their backs and arms. It was one of the most heart-wrenching sights she'd ever seen, as bad as any of the Cardassian prison camps on Bajor had been. The only difference was with the prisoners. They had no hope. She could see it in the emptiness of their gazes, the stoop of their backs, the shuffle of their steps. These people had been utterly crushed by the Cardassians. She could have been watching the walking dead.

  As she watched, one woman in a tattered gray jumpsuit collapsed. Her shovel fell to the ground with a loud ringing noise, attracting an overseer's atten- tion. As the Cardassian strode purposefully toward her, his whip raised to strike, another Bajoran dropped his pick and dashed over to help the woman.

  That made Kira feel a little better--they hadn't managed to kill the spirit in all of these people. The man pulled the fallen woman back to her feet and got her shoveling again before the overseer could beat her.

  Kira drew in her breath. That Bajoran--she knew his face. It took a minute to place it because of the dirt, bruises, and stubble of a beard, but when she did, she knew with certainty who it was: Anten Lapyn.

  They'd fought together in the Resistance. If she re- membered correctly, he'd been reported dead several years before the Cardassians pulled out. If he was a Resistance fighter, that probably meant the others had been, too. This whole camp must be some sort of special punishment for Bajoran prisoners of war. Just like the Cardassians, she thought bitterly, to single out the best and the bravest for special humiliation.

  She began counting the overseers. Two of them lounged behind a high curtain, drinking what looked like Soonian ale from large tankards--probably off duty or on a break, she decided. Four more swaggered among the Bajoran workers. They didn't seem to have much trouble keeping to their feet. Probably wearing gravity boots, she decided. They also had stunguns of some sort at their belts--nothing more lethal than that, she thought, so the prisoners wouldn't be any threat if they seized weapons and attempted a rebel- lion. No doubt real soldiers somewhere deeper in the complex had more lethal weapons close at hand.

  Every few minutes, as if to make a point, one or another of the overseers snapped his whip--usually across a Bajoran's back. It happened twice while Kira watched, the second time to the woman who'd col- lapsed. She screamed and fell, clawing at her back.

  The overseer laughed.

  Kira curled her fingers into a fist. We can take them~ she thought, I know we can. There's only six. We'll have surprise on our side.

  She itched to draw her phaser, but managed to restrain herself. She had a responsibility to the others under her command. It would have to be a team effortaas Dax had so succinctly put it--when they acted.

  She pushed back from the ledge, then rejoined the others where they waited. Aponte was scowling angri- ly, her cheeks flushed a bright red. Wilkens looked sick. Kira didn't blame him.

  "What do we do?" Aponte asked in a strangled voice.

  "I don't know," Kira said. To her surprise, she discovered she really didn't know. A year ago, she knew, she would have had the three of them charge in to save the prisoners with their phasers blasting. Was she getting old and slow, or had Benjamin Sisko's careful planning and measured responses begun to wear off on her?

  "Major, they're killing people in there!" Aponte protested. "I saw one of those Cardie pigs whip a man till he couldn't walk, then drag him away like so much garbage!" "They're my people," Kira said hotly. She had felt more for that one felled woman than Aponte ever would. "But we're not going to get anywhere by rushing in. Things have to be done carefully. Plans have to be made--" She broke off. Now I'm sounding like Dax andSisko, she thought. "Come on," she said.

  "Back to the others." Turning, she loped purposefully down the middle of the tunnel. She made a special point of not looking back, but felt relieved when she heard Aponte and Wilkens fall in behind. She couldn't get the image of the screaming woman out of her mind.

  Bashix, Parks, Muckerheide, and Jonsson were talk- ing in a little knot when she bounded around the curve in the tunnel. They looked as surprised and anxious as she felt.

  "Why isn't anyone on guard?" Kira demanded, slowing. It was a serious breach of security. Not that she didn't understand it; she would have been just as anxious if someone else had gone off to investigate the report of prisoners.

  "I--" Muckerheide began.

  She waved him to silence. "Just don't let it happen again," she said. From his expression, she knew it wouldn't.

  Dr. Bashir's brow was furrowed with concern. "Are you all right, Major?" he asked. "You look--" "Doctor," she interrupted, "I have just seen fifty Bajoran prisoners being worked to death. Many of them are badly in need of medical attention. Some will probably die without it." She quickly filled in the rest of the details, leaving nothing out, not even the woman who'd fallen. From his expression, she knew he was as shocked and appalled as she was. "There's more," sh
e went on. "I recognized one of them. He served in the freedom fighters with me. He was reported dead several years before the Cardassians pulled out from Bajor. They have to be political prisoners." "It's like something out of a twentieth-century Earth history tape," Ensign Aponte added. "If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed intelligent beings capable of inflicting such pain in this day and age. They've actually got those Bajorans using picks and sledgehammers to break rocks!" Kira gazed coolly at her. "The Cardassians had work camps almost exactly like that one all over Bajor for decades." Aponte swallowed, but grew silent. Kira sighed inwardly. These people were her allies here; making them feel guilt over the Federation's failure to liberate Bajor wouldn't help.

  Dr. Bashir cleared his throat. "I know what you're thinking, Major," he said. "Our mission is to rescue Ttan, not lost Bajoran nationals--not even friends." Kira looked at him. "Would you leave them here?" she asked. "CouM you? You heard how they are being treated, Doctor." "We can't help everybody," he said. "There are only seven of us, Major. This is a bigger matter than we can handle, one that calls for diplomacy. The Federation can make a formal protest on behalf of Bajorw" Kira snorted. "You've seen how Cardassians oper- ate," she said. "They would deny all knowledge of this place. By the time a diplomatic mission got here to investigate, there wouldn't be a shred of evidence leftwlet alone Bajoran prisoners of war." "But--" Bashir began.

  "These are my people," Kira said, "and at least one of them is a friend. I can't leave them here. I intend to free them--or die trying." "Major," Ensign Jonsson said. "With all due re- spect, I agree with your sentiments, but Dr. Bashir is right. A rescue is impossible. For one thing, the runabout won't hold us all. If there are fifty Bajorans working in there, who knows how many more are scattered throughout the moon? The runabout will only hold twenty. And that's not leaving any room for Than." "You didn't see them," Ensign Aponte said, her eyes dark with anger. "If you did, you'd know we can't abandon them!" "Major," Bashir said. "Perhaps we can come back for them." "That's not an option," Kira said firmly. "As so0a as the Cardassians know their security is breached, they'll pack their prisoners up... if they don't kill them." She looked at each of her team in turn. 'Tm not asking you to do anything I won't do myself. You knew this mission would be dangerous when you accepted it. Nothing has changed; the project has just gotten larger. Somehow we'll find a way to take them all with us--or we'll leave them in charge while we go back for help. If anyone wants to back out now, speak up. You can wait here while the rest of us proceed.

  Well?" Aponte and Wilkens met her gaze and nodded.

  Muckerheide studied the ground, but nodded too, Parks and Jonsson agreed more slowly. That only left Bashir.

  When she looked at him, he drew his phaser. "I'11 be at your side, Major," he said to her surprise, "whatev- er the outcome."

  CHAPTER lO

  VIEWED FROM SPACE, the weapon sail towers resembled fangs arching outward from three locations on the habitat ring. Each tower, which extended both above and below the ring, covered a 120-degree segment of the surrounding void. Smaller and less impressive than the huge docking pylons, they nevertheless car- ried a lot more punch; the sails could direct either phasers or photon torpedoes at any vessel or entity that dared to threaten Deep Space Nine.

  From within, O'Brien mused, they were the usual mishmash of sinister Cardassian designs and unrelia- ble, jury-rigged equipment. He waited, one hand on his phaser, in the stark gray hall outside the phaser monitoring room, flanked by two Bajoran security men in matching brown uniforms. Otherwise the passage was silent and empty; this level was off-limits to all but authorized personnel.

  More security stood on guard at the other two weapons towers. O'Brien wasn't sure why he'd chosen Tower 2 to defend personally, but he'd learned, after many years in Starfleet, to trust his hunches. Or "educated guesses," as he called them in official Starfleet reports.

  One of the Bajorans, Gaysd Tel, stared nervously at his phaser. He seemed uncomfortable handling it.

  Must be used to working the Promenade, O'Brien figured; Odo didn't allow weapons of any sort in that area. "Chief?." the Bajoran said. He was a young man, in his mid-twenties probably, with slicked-back black hair.

  "Yes?" O'Brien asked. He kept his eyes on the walls and floor before him. He almost hoped every single Horta would converge here. That would mean Keiko and Molly were out of immediate danger. The sooner he heard they were safe, the better he'd feel.

  "It's about Hortas, sir," Gaysd said. "I've heard that they're completely impervious to phasers." "Not exactly," O'Brien reassured him. He noticed that Battes Ang, the other Bajoran, was listening closely to the conversation, while trying hard not to be too obvious about it. Battes was an older, harder character whose grizzled face still bore the scars of years fighting in the Bajoran Resistance. "They're tough, but they're not invulnerable. According to the computer, high-intensity phaser fire at close range can knock a real chunk out of them. Maybe even kill them." His words appeared to bolster the Bajorans' spirit. Maybe too much so, he worried.

  "Listen," he said firmly. "That's not why we're here. Besides, that's an adult Horta I was talking about. These are youngsters; their shells may not have hardened completely. We don't know how much phaser fire they can take. The last thing we want to do is kill them, or even injure one severely. So set your phasers on stun, and hope that's enough to turn them back." "But what if it's not?" Gaysd asked.

  "You got kids, mister?" O'Brien snapped. His tem- per felt strained to the breaking point. First that miserable computer, now this wrinkly-nosed stooge had to give him flak. I should be with Keiko and the baby, he thought.

  "Uh, a niece, sir." "Well, pretend this is your niece you're gunning for." Easier said than done, O'Brien realized, but hopefully both men got the point. He surveyed the corridor, detecting no signs of life, humanoid or otherwise. Quiet for the moment, he concluded. Time enough to check in with Ops. He patted his comm badge. "O'Brien here. Status report?" To his surprise, Sisko himself replied, curtly voicing the words O'Brien had been dreading: "More trouble on the Promenade, Chief. Odo's gone into action; I can't talk now. Hold your position." Sisko broke the connection, leaving O'Brien alone with his fears for his family. Despite himself, every moment of Molly's short existence replayed itself on the monitor of his memories, from her birth on the Enterprise (assisted by Worf, of all people!) to his kissing her goodbye this morning before he headed for Ops. The possibility that he may have seen her for the last time was too terrible to imagine. I shouM have spent more time with her, he thought, torturing him- self. I shouM have made sure she knew how much I loved her.

  His grip tightened on his phaser. At that instant he agreed totally with the Cardassian computer; he wanted to eliminate all the Hortas as fast as possible.

  "Chief O'Brien?" Battes asked hesitantly. "Are you all right?" "Yes," he lied. Taking a deep breath to calm hirn,~ self, he opened his mouth to further reassure the Bajorans. Before he could say anything, however, a rumbling noise came from the end of the corridor.

  The security team snapped to attention and held out their phasers. The rumbling grew louder by the sec- ond, as if drawing nearer, but O'Brien could see nothing in the empty hall. He sniffed the air, and thought he detected the smell of melting plastic. The lights dimmed overhead. Glancing upward, he saw the ceiling sag, if only by a centimeter or so. Instinctively he placed a palm against the wall--and felt a growing vibration rattle the bones of his hand.

  "They're in the ceiling!" he said as the realization hit him. Estimating that the Hortas were only a few yards in front of him, he took one step backward, upped the setting on his phaser, and fired directly overhead. The red-hot beam cut through the rhodinium sheeting and the kelinide foundation above. O'Brien adjusted the phaser to emit a wide- angle beam less than a centimeter thick, hoping to set up a "firewall" between the Hortas and the weapons tower. He tried not to think about the damage he was doing to station itself. Time enough for repairs later, he thought.

&nb
sp; Shrill, grating cries greeted O'Brien's action. Winc- ing at the sharp, painful sounds, he smiled grimly.

  Well, he thought, at least I'm getting a response. Then, abruptly, the ceiling ahead of him erupted in a spray of steam and molten metal. A tiny globule of white- hot steel splashed against his leg, raising a blister underneath his uniform. Ignoring the stinging pain, he threw himself backward, hard against the sealed door to the phaser monitoring room. The Bajoran officers backed away as well, a second before the frustrated Hortas dropped into sight. They landed heavily upon the floor, crashing like thunder.

  There were two of them: shapeless brown masses, spotted with orange and yellow warts, that quivered with anger or hunger. As the lead Horta edged toward him, O'Brien had to fight an urge to vaporize it with the phaser's full power. Instead he shouted at the two Bajorans: "Phasers on stun! Drive them back if you can!" Gaysd stepped forward and hit the oncoming Horta with a direct blast from his phaser. On the opposite side of O'Brien, Battes targeted the other Horta. The creatures' wails made O'Brien's teeth ache, but they showed no sign of retreating. They seemed more annoyed than stunned; O'Brien wasn't sure whether to be relieved or distressed. "Keep pouring it on," he commanded. He aimed his own phaser at the floor, ready to keep the Hortas from tunneling under them.