Star Trek - DS9 011 - Devil In The Sky

by Неизвестный

  "Ignore chemical composition. Scan for concentra- tions of solid mass in the reactor bed." "Insutficient capability to perform function. Seven- ty percent of primary sensors malfunctioning. Re- quire immediate repairs to execute command." Sisko appeared at O'Brien's shoulder. "Chief?" he asked softly. O'Brien felt rather than saw over a dozen pairs of eyes watching him intently. Everyone was counting on him now, he knew, and not just the assorted officers packed into Ops. The fate of the station and the Hortas and, especially, Molly and Keiko depended on whether or not he could execute Commander Sisko's last-ditch plan for their survival.

  Is it just me, he thought, wiping his forehead, or is it unusually hot in here?

  "I'm going to have to do this manually, sir," he explained, sounding a lot more confident than he felt, and doubting that he'd fooled Benjamin Sisko for one minute. He popped a latch on the side of his console and exposed the transporter sensors themselves. The trick, he assured himself, is to skip past all the techno- logical bureaucracy: the controls controlling the con- trols and so on. Bypass the computer safeguards, dispense with the voice-activated systems, skip the convenient buttons and touch controls... go straight to the parts that do the work.

  And, when all else fails, pray to whatever gods there be.

  "Radiation levels rising," Eddon warned from the science station. Her antennae drooped alarmingly, although there was no sign of fear on her face.

  "Remaining Hortas approaching reactors," Sanger chimed in. "There's only one layer of flooring between them and the security team." O'Brien dug his fingers into the innards of the console. All I really need to do, he thought, is recalibrate the subprocessor modules of the short-range sensors.

  Unexpectedly, the floor of the station shook be- neath his feet. O'Brien held on to his station and refused to let go. The entire chamber tilted about ten degrees to the left. Several officers lost their balance and fell to the floor. A Vulcan woman with a cast on her leg lurched against O'Brien, smacking into his side, but he managed to stay on his feet. With one hand clutched around a rail, Sisko grabbed the Vulcan and kept her from hitting the ground. A moment later a naked man landed hard on top of the operations table.

  A naked man?

  "The Prodigal's gravitational pull has overcome the inertial field," N'Heydor called out. Ordinarily, O'Brien knew, the moon would not have posed a problem; either a power loss or direct damage from the Horta had caused the field to fail. "The thrusters are compensating," N'Heydor said.

  Ops righted itself, and O'Brien assumed they hadn't been knocked out of orbit yet. He heard Sisko take a deep breath behind him. "With all deliberate speed, Chief," he said, in the calm, emotionless voice he reserved for the direst of emergencies.

  Hastily, O'Brien reprogrammed the subprocessors.

  He tuned out everything around him, including his own aches and bruises and rushes of fear, and focused on the machine and his mission. Estimate the mass.

  Filter out the radiation. Scan for life signs, but not according to standard parameters for carbon-based entities.

  "Got her!" O'Brien said triumphantly. But maybe only for a minute, he added silently.

  "To The Prodigal, Chief O'Brien. Now!" Sisko commanded.

  Via the transporter beam, O'Brien seized the rogue Horta, yanking her free of the reactor bed and throw- ing her onto the surface of the moon. He didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until the transporter released the Horta's signal and indicated that she had fully materialized on the satellite on the screen. Then he let out a sigh he figured could probably be heard on Bajor itself, if not back in Dublin.

  "Done?" Sisko asked.

  "Done," O'Brien told him.

  "Long-range sensors are detecting Horta life signs on The Prodigal," Lieutenant Eddon informed them.

  "I believe it's burrowing into the interior of the: moon." The blue antennae emerging from her white hair perked up even as she spoke, rising like sunflow- ers seeking the dawn.

  Sisko smiled. The crisis had been averted, but the work wasn't done yet. "Lock on to the other Hortas, Chief. Send them after the first one." O'Brien nodded. He closed the latch and restored the transporter to its standard settings. Compared to finding that single Horta in her silicon haystack, transporting her hatchmates would be ehild's play. It took him only a minute or two to beam all the remaining Hortas (except, he recalled sadly, the dead Horta now resting, in the infirmary) over to The Prodigal.

  Meanwhile, the commander fired off instructions to the rest of Ops. "Shut down Reactor Two," he or- dered, "and place a containment field around the ruptured bed. Tell Lieutenant Moru and her people to stand down and get away from that radiation. I want a repair team down there at once." Sisko paused for a second, reconsidering. "Give the weapons towers top priority, though." That last command gave O'Brien pause and muted some of the glee he'd been feeling since the Hortas left DS9. There was still a Cardassian raider out there somewhere, and after the Hortas' depredations the station was in no shape for a fight. Then, too, the Mother Horta remained missing, along with Kira, Bashir, Dax, and the others.

  He hoped the rescue team had had an easier time than he had, but the longer they stayed missing in action, the less likely that seemed.

  CHAPTER 19

  Dax COULD FEEL the tension on the bridge. As the Cardassian ships closed in, she began to wonder if they were going to make it.

  "They're energizing their weapons systems," the Bajoran at the weapons console told her.

  "Raise shields," Dax ordered. "Prepare to drop out of warp. And prepare ready to hail DS9--we're going to need help fast." The Cardassians hadn't been fooled for long by her trick with the runabout. They'd been in close pursuit for the last eight hours, gaining steadily. She'd used every trick she knew to try to slip away from them, but all she'd managed to do was gain a little more time.

  The Cardassians hadn't managed to get so much as a shot off at the Dagger yet, but she suspected that their luck was about to run out.

  "Status?" she demanded again.

  "Ready," one station after another reported.

  A phaser blast hit the back of the Dagger, rocking it violently. Dax clung to the arms of the captain's chair, wishing Cardassians would equip their ships with safety belts like other intelligent races.

  Another blast shook the ship. Only a few seconds more, she thought... according to the computer, they were about to enter Bajoran space.

  "Deflector shields now down to seventy-eight- percent strength," someone called. "Now!" Dax yelled.

  The Dagger slowed to impulse power without warn- ing. She'd hoped the Cardassians would overshoot them and have to come back, but it didn't happen. A third powerful blast shook the ship. The running lights flickered and died, then came back up at half power. Hopefully the passengers in the cargo hold had weathered the jolts without serious harm. Their sec- tion of the ship was taking the heaviest beating.

  "Sir," the naked ensign called to Sisko. "I'm pick- ing up a ship entering this system at high speed. Wait, make that six ships... all Cardassian!" Sisko turned. "Cardassian?" "The lead ship is a Bruja-class military vessel. The others are much larger.... " Kira, he wondered, what the hell have you started?

  And where was the Amazon?

  "Go to battle alert," Sisko said, striding toward the operations table. A klaxon began to blare. "Get Odo up here on the double if he's out of his bucket by now.

  Chief O'Brien, what's our status?" O'Brien shook his head grimly. "Only one weapons tower is operational, sir. We have a single bank of phasers." He looked at Sisko apologetically. "My people are working as fast as they can, but those Hortas did a lot of damage." Unfortunately, Sisko thought, six Cardassian attack ships have enough firepower to make the Hortas' rampage seem like a bad case of mildew. "I want those phasers ready to fire," he told O'Brien. He was outgunned, but at least he wasn't unarmed. "Lieuten- ant Eddon, put me through to the Cardassians." "Commander," Eddon announced. "The lead ship is already hailing us." She turned, surprise evident on her face. "It
's Lieutenant Dax!" "Well," Sisko said, "put her on." A static-filled image lit up the main viewscreen. It was Dax, sure enough, and from what little Sisko could see of the bridge behind her, she had a Bajoran crew. He recognized Dr. Bashir, but nobody else.

  A thousand questions rushed through his mind.

  Where had all these Bajorans come from? What about Ttan? And Kira?

  "No time to explain, Benjamin," Dax said. "I've got a shipload of Bajoran nationals. We're in pretty bad shape. Our shields are down to forty-four-percent power and we've lost warp capacity. The Cardassians are getting ready to fire on us again." "Hold tight," Sisko said. "I'll talk to their com- mander." He turned toward Eddon at the communications station. "Hail those ships." "Yes, sir," she said. "No answer." "Put this through anyway. They'll be listening." He paused a second. "Cardassian pursuit ships, this is Commander Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine. You are ordered to identify yourselves. Decelerate and stand by for more instructions." "No response, sir." "Then we'll send them a message they can't ig- nore." Sisko nodded at Chief O'Brien. "Give them a phaser volley across the lead vessel's bow." "But, Commander," O'Brien protested, "that's all we've got! We'll be defenseless." "I know, Chief. ! know." He turned his gaze on a wounded man with a red beard. "Captain Dawson, if you'd like to do the honors... ?" "With pleasure, Commander!" The captain of the Puyallup tapped decisively at a bank of controls, and halfa second later three short bursts from the station's phaser banks split the distance between Dax's ship and the Cardassians.

  "Sir!" Eddon addressed him. "I'm now getting a transmission from Gul Nogar of the Ramoth's Re- venge." "Put him on." The image of a Cardassian officer filled the viewscreen: black and silver uniform, corded neck, and an arrogant, supercilious manner that set Sisko's teeth on edge. Nogar leaned forward, lip curled back, and snarled: "Hold your fire, Commander Sisko. We are in pursuit of a criminal ship. Your assistance is neither required nor requested here. It is an internal Cardassian matter." "That ship has requested political asylum here," Sisko lied, "and I'm afraid the provisional authorities have granted it." Sisko leaned forward over the Ops table. For a man facing an armada with no weapons to speak of, Sisko thought he must look remarkably unworried. "The ship is, as I'm sure you're aware, piloted by Bajoran nationals." Captain Nogar stared at him without blinking. "I did not know that." "You are, of course," Sisko went on in his most charming voice, "welcome to dock at DS9 and enjoy our shore-leave facilities while you plead your case to the Bajoran government. I'm sure they will be very eager to hear from you. I'm sure we can have a definitive answer for you in, say, six to eight weeks." "That is not acceptable." Nogar's eyes narrowed as he peered at Sisko through the viewer. "My under- standing was that your station had recently suffered certain... difficulties?" This is it, Sisko thought. Either he falls for my bluff or we're space dust.

  "Some minor disturbances, nothing more," Sisko said casually. "Kids acting up, you know how they can be. The entire station has never been in better condi- tion, including our state-of-the-art weapons systems.

  If you fire again on that ship, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to return fire on their behalf. Defending Bajor and Bajoran nationals is part of our charter here, as I'm sure you know." "Hold," Nogar said, and the viewscreen went blank.

  "Commander," Ensign Sanger said. "We're being scanned by the Cardassians." "Block those scans, mister," Sisko ordered. "Your life depends on it." "Yes, sir!" Sanger said, suitably inspired.

  After a long, endless moment Nogar resumed his transmission. Sisko smiled calmly, despite the mount- ing tension in Ops. "Commander," Nogar said a trifle archly, "in the interest of furthering the spirit of friendship"mit seemed like an effort for him to spit out that word--"and cooperation between our peo- ple, we will let you have your Bajoran nationals, if that's what they are." Despite the pounding of his heart, Sisko could almost hear the unspoken "this time." "Thank you," he said. "And if you or your crew would like to visit our stationre" Captain Nogar disconnected with an audible snarl of displeasure.

  Odo met Sisko at the airlock when the Dagger docked at DS9. Sisko was glad to see the constable solid again. Before their eyes, the huge clockwork door rolled aside, revealing a narrow passageway.

  Julian Bashir was the only one waiting there. "Infir- mary, I need fifteen stretchers down here, stat!" he called, darting around Sisko and Odo with a barely mumbled "Hello, sir." He sprinted down the corridor and vanished from sight.

  Sisko exchanged a puzzled glance with Odo. "Per- haps we'd better go aboard," Odo suggested.

  "My thoughts exactly," Sisko said.

  Odo went through, then into the ship. The hatch led into an antechamber, which was empty, then into a corridor. Odo turned right, and Sisko followed on his heels. They could hear voices from ahead.

  The corridor opened into a cargo bay, where literal- ly dozens of injured Bajoran men and women lay waiting for treatment. The smell of blood thickened the air. Most of the prone bodies looked more bruised and shaken up than injured, but more than a few had serious wounds. Sheets covered what looked like half a dozen bodies off to one side... casualties?

  And in the center of the room rested Ttan. Sisko nodded in relief. The mission had been a success.

  more than a success, from the looks of things.

  "Benjamin, over here." Sisko followed the voice back to Dax. She was off to the side, bending over one of the injured Bajorans.

  Sisko joined her. The injured Bajoran turned out to be Major Kira, whose leg was in a splint. Kira looked as angry as a Denebian horned groat.

  "Major?" Sisko asked, kneeling. "How are you?" "Good," Kira said through clenched teeth. "Mis- sion accomplished, sir. And then some." "I see that. Very well done, Major. I'd be surprised if there aren't a few commendations in your future when news of what happened comes out. There's only one thing..." "What's that?" Dax asked.

  "What the hell happened?" Dax laughed and began to fill him in. Kira scowled through the whole story, but obligingly filled in the parts Dax didn't know.

  When they finished, Sisko nodded thoughtfully.

  "That's quite a story," he said. "But I still don't quite understand how you made it to the ship after you broke your leg, Major." Dax said, "Julian told me she fainted from shock.

  He carried her aboard." Kira snorted. "Fainted from shock indeed." Sisko raised his eyebrows. "It sounds like you two make quite a team." Clearly there was more to the story than what he'd already heard. He'd have to worm the whole truth out of Julian later that week.

  Then Julian beamed in with a dozen other helpers.

  He began giving orders, beaming the most seriously injured straight to the infirmary in record time.

  "I think everything is in order," Sisko said, rising.

  "I'll expect full reports from everyone tomorrow.

  Ode, give them a hand getting off, will you? I have some calls to make... and a family to reunite." "Yes, sir," Ode said.

  Sisko crossed to where Ttan had been waiting patiently. The Horta shifted as he approached.

  "I know you can understand me, but can't reply," he said. "I want you to know your eggs have hatched and all your children are safe except one." The Universal Translator on Ttan's back made a garbled noise.

  "If you'll follow me," Sisko said, "I'll take you to our chief engineer. If he can't fix your translator, he can fit you with a new one." Turning, he tapped his communicator. "Chief O'Brien, report to the docking ring."

  Under other circumstances, the Promenade would have fascinated Ttan. All around her, humaneiris of various shapes and composition went about their business in a colorful, spacious environment very different from the caverns of Janus VI. Most were busy repairing storefronts and displays.

  Ttan felt only a rising sense of apprehension as they neared the infirmary. The commander of the station had explained how he had beamed her children to safety on a nearby moon. Still, she dreaded the prospect of facing the remains of the one child who had not survived.

  The human named O'Bri
en walked beside her. He seemed very sympathetic to her loss. "I have a child of my own," he confided. "I can only imagine what you must be going through. I wish we could have saved her." "Thank you," Ttan replied. Her new translator worked perfectly, but could not convey all the sadness she carried inside.

  "Here we are," O'Brien said. He stopped in front of a black door alongside the infirmary. "Dr. Bashir needed all the medical facilities for the wounded, so they moved your child into this holding facility." He touched a panel and the door slid aside.

  The station's Place of the Dead was clean and spare, lacking even the most rudimentary etched ceremonial decorations. It was a place of no soul, without the comforting weight of tradition and history.