Rising Son

by S. D. Perry

  As the TMP cavern’s bloodthirsty Drang disappeared, their excited cries all but drowning out Pif’s echoing howl, Dez stepped out of the shadows at the C-tunnel entrance and took aim at the one remaining Drang. She didn’t even see him coming, still cursing after the deserters, demanding their return. If any of the departing Drang heard the muted blast of the tiny disruptor, they didn’t return to investigate.

  Stess felt great satisfaction with Dez’s plan and her part in it, rotating an optical bulb to watch Jake and Dez dash across to the north tunnel. Satisfaction and no small fear—because soon enough, even with each part of her participating, urging them on, the mob chasing Pif was going to get tired of running in circles. Then they were going to get organized, and when that happened, it was going to be over for all of them.

  Stess repositioned herself and settled in to wait, hoping that she wouldn’t have to wait long.

  After Dez outlined the plan, Glessin quickly moved from his hiding place to the clump of pillows where Coamis hid, leaning down to whisper to the frightened half-Wadi.

  “Stay there. When Facity says the transporters are working, tell her where you are.”

  Coamis stammered out an affirmative and Glessin moved to the cave room’s entrance, standing to one side, half shielded from the tunnel by a shelving unit. He watched and waited for an opportunity, sure that Pifko would have the Drang running amok in short order.

  Even as he thought it, two Drang hurried by, not even looking in his direction. He held very still, listening to the hisses and snarls that filled the tunnel with echoes, thinking about Coamis. Assuming they survived, he would have to tell Facity and Dez to keep him on the ship from now on. Glessin didn’t blame him for his inability to cope…or, rather, his unawareness of that inability. It was the first mission the young archeologist had been on in which something had gone wrong, and probably the first time in his life that he’d ever been so tested. Some things just couldn’t be prepared for.

  Glessin had known from the moment that Dez had called the abort that Coamis was going to be useless. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, it was that the young archeologist was half paralyzed with fear, and that made his every move a liability.

  To begin, Coamis had been unable to choose a place to hide. He and Glessin had slipped into the fourth room along B tunnel, the one where Stessie had seen the possible Gocibis; they’d been near it already, having decided while still on the dropship that if the Drang actually had the statue of Hyrcham the Swib, they had a duty to retrieve it. The statue alone was worth twenty Yaron Oracles.

  After a quick assessment of the room, Glessin had seen that it held a multitude of subtle hiding places, spots the Drang probably wouldn’t think to search—crouched in the darkness beneath the wine racks, perhaps, or tucked between the giant spools of embroidery threads and fabric, perhaps acting as a base for some of the stacks and stacks of feather-stuffed pillows…and Coamis had immediately run for the tall standing cabinet in the back of the room and climbed inside, easily the most obvious place to look. Worse, he hadn’t wanted to come out; Glessin had spent precious seconds convincing the young half-Wadi that it was a poor choice, then more time watching the hysterical Coamis flail around the room, rejecting every good spot he came across.

  Glessin didn’t have much of a temper, but with the Drang bearing down on them and Coamis working his way into a blind panic, he’d been on the verge of losing what there was of it. He’d finally just grabbed the boy and shoved him behind a mound of pillows, throwing more on top. He’d barely managed to hide himself—in the wine-rack shadows—before a Drang had stormed into the room, followed by a second. They had knocked over a table or two, broken a few bottles, and ripped the cabinet door off of Coamis’s first hiding place before storming back out, joining the shouting throng out in the tunnel. It seemed they were in some kind of a frenzy for alien blood, which Glessin was glad to see; frenzied was generally the same as careless.

  Dez had been clear about the crew not taking risks, but after the searchers had gone, Glessin had decided that it wasn’t exactly an order, after all. He further decided that if the Drang came back, he would kill as many as he could, and then they would probably kill him, and the universe would be less one battle-scarred Cardassian. He had left his spot just long enough to better arm himself—there was a set of daggers he borrowed from, cheaply made but quieter than the disruptors—and to take a brief look at the sculptures and statues still standing after the Drang’s violent search. There were a few pieces that had looked Gocibi, but no Swib.

  At least we got the Oracle marked, Glessin thought, and was starting to wonder if he had time to try marking a few other items when Pif began to howl. Almost immediately afterward, he heard the raised, eager shouts of more Drang feeding into the tunnels, each gasping creature surely stoked into a maniacal, murderous rage by Stess’s gentle touch. Dez had his shortcomings, obviously, he and the rest of the ground crew were standing witness to one of them, but he could also pull a working plan out of thin air like no other—

  —rooroOROOOroo—

  The Aarruri flashed by at a full run, gone before Glessin realized he’d been that close; the tunnel acoustics were definitely throwing him off. A few beats later, the start of a lumbering, seething, snarling Drang mob passed by, three, five, seven of them, sticks and clubs raised, their bulbous, glittering gazes apparently oblivious of everything but the pursuit; none of them even glanced toward the storeroom.

  Glessin shook his head slightly as the last of the mob passed, astounded. They were making so much noise, too, it was tempting to just step out and fire the disruptor at one of them, to see if the others would stop—

  He suddenly understood that they wouldn’t, not if he chose the right one. With a quick glance to either side, Glessin stepped out from around the shelf and halfway into the tunnel, turning east. The slowest runner was less than three meters away, a short, growling male holding a studded mace. Glessin pointed the disruptor and fired, immediately stepping back into his half shelter, where he waited, counting slowly to five.

  No surprised exclamations, no alarm raised, no returning Drang. Glessin shot a glance back out and saw the short Drang facedown on the tunnel floor, completely alone. He had to fight a brief urge to step out and move the fallen male to one side so he wouldn’t be trampled the next time Pif came through…because he had no doubt that the unfortunate Drang’s comrades would stomp right over him.

  Glessin shook his head again, wondering how these creatures had managed to amass such a fortune…though he knew, of course. Violent people often got what they wanted. It was the way of the universe.

  Already, he could hear Pif rounding through the tunnels, leading the Drang back in his direction. He decided he would shoot one more from where he was, then try moving to another room. Coamis would be fine as long as he stayed down, and he didn’t want a pile of bodies too close to where he was standing; even the Drang would eventually get suspicious.

  And eventually they’ll stop running, too. And then they’d realize it would be just as easy to block the tunnels off and search each one thoroughly, one by one. Glessin hoped that Dez and Jake knew what they were doing…and that they were getting close to doing it.

  Dez knew he was in good physical condition, but between the Drang gravity and the heat, running up the north tunnel made him realize that good was not great. Jake ran easily at his side, as calm as he had been throughout their misadventure. Dez continued to be impressed; he’d followed instructions, asked only relevant questions, even made a joke when Dez had asked him about staying behind. And he was in better shape than Dez, at least in terms of stamina, simply by virtue of being half his age, give or take.

  He was made for this, Dez thought randomly, then went back to concentrating on not collapsing. All around them, the echoes of Pif’s ongoing howls of alarm and the splutters and hisses of the Drang had merged into a distorted confusion of sound, rising from behind like a hot wind.

  It was a hard run
. Unlike the other tunnels, which were basically level and curved gently back and forth, the north tunnel was a series of sudden turns, each short stretch angled sharply upward. The floor wasn’t as smooth, either, the footing uneven. It didn’t help that it felt like they had been running forever and might continue to—it was incredibly difficult to tell how far they’d gone, each turn seeming to wind back on itself. Dez thought they were getting close, but he was also starting to think that the device was 120 meters directly above the TMP. As they reached another sharp corner, he supposed he should just be thankful that the Drang hadn’t thought to post any guards along the way—

  “There,” Jake panted, around the corner first, and Dez felt relief wash over him, finally, as he stumbled forward to see for himself. The scrambler was seated into the rock just before the tunnel cornered back out of sight, facing south. It looked so innocuous, the long, blinking, boxy unit, small, probably light enough for two men to carry.

  Should only take one to break it, though, Dez thought, tucking his disruptor in his belt as they jogged toward it. He didn’t recognize the design, didn’t care; the big plan was to find the activation switch, turn it off, and smash it with a rock. With as many Drang as there were in the tunnels, he didn’t want to use his last disruptor shot, and besides, it wasn’t necessary. As long as the Drang couldn’t fix it for three or four minutes, the team would be safe.

  “Find a rock,” Dez said, spotting the big switch at the bottom right and reaching for it—

  —and they both heard the sudden hiss coming from just around the corner, heard the urgent, angry cry.

  “Send more now!”

  Damn!

  He grabbed at his disruptor, saw that Jake already had his out and was stepping away from the wall, into the curve of the blind corner. Jake’s gaze was determined, his stance unsteady but his hands still as he pointed the disruptor and fired.

  His own disruptor in hand, Dez grabbed the rock wall and swung around to see, just as the lone Drang hit the floor. It was another mistake to add to today’s list, not checking for a guard at the scrambler, and something else for him to feel bad about later; the Drang’s message was clear. Reinforcements would be coming. They had to get out, now.

  Jake was staring at the fallen guard, the small weapon still extended, wearing a look of mild surprise.

  “I didn’t think about it,” he said.

  Dez scooped up a rock near Jake’s feet. “That works, too,” he said, turning back to the scrambler. He flipped the switch, and as the panel lights blinked out, he brought the chunk of rock down, hard, and again. The thin alloy crumpled, the switch breaking off and dropping to the tunnel floor.

  Scramble that, he thought, tossing the rock aside, turning a triumphant smile toward Jake—and then he heard them, heard thundering steps, Drang voices echoing down at them from somewhere ahead, raised in an excited fury. They must have been standing by at the entrance, just waiting to be told that the alien threat required an additional team of skull crushers.

  Dez grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled, Jake hardly needing the encouragement; the look on his face said he was ready to run again, to run faster.

  “Don’t wait for me,” Dez said, and then they were both pounding the tunnel floor, heading back the way they’d come, Jake a few paces ahead.

  Dez thought he heard Facity as they rounded the second corner down, but the sound was bad, just a few broken syllables. Dez slapped his earpiece, watching Jake run the few paces between turns and neatly take the next corner, leaning away from the outer curve. Dez was right behind him.

  “Facity, repeat!”

  “—working—”

  It was all he got, and he had to hope there wasn’t a negative preceding it—and that the ground team could hear her, and was getting out. It had to be the sensor jam, if there was enough of it, communications could get garbled, I should have thought of that, too, this whole mission has been a disaster—

  —but the Oracle egg’s marked and you’re going to make it, you’re almost there—

  Even as he ran for his life, his eternal optimism wouldn’t shut up; it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed, and with any luck, it wouldn’t be the last. Dez half smiled, too otherwise engaged to do better, and attempted to put on more speed. As fast as they were running, he could still hear the Drang behind them getting louder—but suddenly, he couldn’t hear Pif anymore. The constant, raspy howl had disappeared from the din below, the din that they were fast approaching, and was replaced by a sudden roar of sound, a united cry of outrage…or victory.

  No, he thought, answering a flicker of doubt. Facity had taken him out, that was all, that had to be all.

  Jake was only just in sight now on each corner, Dez catching a bare glimpse each time he turned. Good, that was good, if Pif had been beamed out, that meant the rest of the team was already gone, except maybe part of Stessie, less likely to be discovered—when Jake hit the TMP cavern, Srral could lock on him first. Dez wanted to be last, Facity knew him well enough to know that, she would beam out accordingly.

  His body heavy, his diaphragms desperate for air, his muscles hot and shaking, Dez stumbled on, recognizing a broken light bar, near the bottom now, passed that going up… They were losing the Drang behind them, he was sure of it, but it was costing him. From now on, he was going to work out in heavier gravity, eat better, stop drinking as much…and as long as he was going to improve his habits, he was also going to listen when Facity said she didn’t like something from now on, really give it some thought—

  —and turning another corner, he heard the sound of a disruptor blast, heard Drang expletives and snarls, saw that the light was different, that Jake was entirely out of sight. They’d made it to the TMP…and if anything had happened to Jake…

  There was another blast as Dez ran the last stretch, somehow finding the strength to run faster, I talked him into it, he wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t pushed—

  Dez hit the last corner and burst into the cavern, saw no Jake, saw seven or eight Drang bodies strewn about, saw a dozen more turning toward him, furious, slack, eager jaws drooling, clubs raised, talons reaching—

  —and then it all melted away like a fever dream, and there was the team, looking tired and sweaty, Pif was lying on the floor, sides heaving, and there was a nice, cool dropship all around him.

  “Everyone here?” Dez gasped, and saw nods, some smiles. “Did we get the Oracle?” More nods, a few fingers pointing behind him.

  Good enough. Dez collapsed onto the transporter pad, leaning back on his elbows—and saw that Jake was right next to him, lying out flat and breathing deep.

  “That was awful,” Jake panted.

  “I love this job,” Dez panted back, and smiled, and so did Jake.

  “Dez and Jake Sisko have been transported,” Srral said. “Neither appears injured.”

  Facity let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, felt herself sag in her chair, worn out. It had been only eleven minutes since the team had gone in, eleven, but as she’d learned long ago, sitting helplessly by created an eternity all its own.

  She tapped the return-flight controls and asked Srral to take over as pilot, wanting to see for herself that Dez was all right. She knew he was, knew because Dez was one of the luckiest people alive—he should have been killed ten times over just since she’d known him—but she also wanted for him to see her, to make sure he understood just how lucky he was.

  Lucky I don’t boot him upside the head, for making me worry like that, she thought briskly, striding through the small, empty passenger cabin to the transporter room. The door between the two was open, the disheveled team members standing and leaning against equipment, sitting on the empty crates that had been packed to store some of the Drang fortune. Facity looked them over, relieved to see that no one had been hurt. All of them looked wide-eyed and dazed, excessively tired for the brief period they’d been gone—except Stessie, of course, and even she seemed slightly faded.

  Dez was
still on the transporter pad, just sitting up, his runneled face dripping with sweat. Jake looked about the same, his movements slow and exhausted, though she saw that their other runner, Pif, was drinking from a water tube and chatting easily with Brad, fatigued but evidently recuperating well from his mad dash through the tunnels. By comparison, Coamis looked terrible—he seemed especially pale, strangely irritable, not interacting with any of the others—but before she could ask, Glessin caught her eye. He glanced at Coamis and then shook his head very slightly.

  He froze, Facity realized. She’d seen the symptoms before, and felt the standard mix of emotions that came with the knowledge—concern, disappointment, surrender to the way things sometimes played out. She’d have to ask Glessin about it later, see if there was any chance or if they were going to have to start looking for another archeologist.

  Dez was grinning at her, his gaze sparkling with good humor, the same look he always wore when he’d survived another mission, successful or not…and as was so often the case, she felt a flash of irritation with him, for his obvious joy at almost dying. She understood the love of the game, absolutely, but did he have to be so damned ecstatic about it?

  I was worried, she thought, and wanted to say it, but knew it would have to wait. Their relationship wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something either of them flaunted, either.

  Instead, she smiled, crossing her arms and gazing around at the rest of the team.

  “Anybody bring me anything?” she asked lightly.

  Almost immediately, she was sorry she’d said it; the high mood of the room dropped a few notches, as it sank in for the team that they had risked their lives for the Yaron Oracle, nothing more. Worse, she saw the slight frowns, the flickers of irritation in Dez’s direction. It hadn’t been his fault, not really, she could have aborted the mission and hadn’t…but he was the captain, and the responsibility stopped with him, and they all knew it.