“Not reading them either, but that’s because we’ve got a moon and a planet between us—and it also means they can’t see us, either. Hopefully they didn’t pick us up. If they stay on course, they’ll be in orbit in five minutes.”
Hudson checked his status board and saw that repairs were already under way on the lesser systems that had given out. He nodded, appreciative of his team. Then the comm systems indicated some traffic on the Starfleet channel. “The Hood’ s sending a message.”
He put it on the speaker. “Slaybis IV Control, this is the Starship Hood. Respond, please.” A pause. “This is the U.S.S. Hood. We have been given special dispensation by Starfleet and the Cardassian Central Command to enter the Demilitarized Zone unescorted in order to comply with General Order 16. Please respond.”
“Hudson to Tuvok.”
“Go ahead,” came the Vulcan’s calm voice a moment later.
“Mr. Tuvok, the Hood has entered orbit around Slaybis IV. They claim to have gotten special dispensation to come here in order to confiscate the artifact. I’m wondering if they’re here for another reason.”
“You suspect me of leading them here.”
“The thought had crossed our minds,” Mastroeni said sharply.
“A reasonable supposition, but erroneous. I have no reason to lead the Hood here. It was inevitable that they would eventually detect the Malkus Artifact even after I wiped the sensor logs as long as it stayed in use within the Demilitarized Zone. It is good that we destroyed the Manhattan. As it is, Captain DeSoto will no doubt use this excursion as an excuse to try to take me back.”
Hudson muted the intercom and shot Mastroeni a look.
She shrugged. “He’s saying all the right things, but I don’t like it.”
“They say Vulcans don’t lie,” Hudson said with a wry smile.
Mastroeni snorted. “Yeah, but it’s mostly Vulcans who say that.”
“Good point.” He de-muted the intercom. “All right, Tuvok, we’ll—”
“Cal, I’m picking up readings from the surface,” Mastroeni said suddenly. “The capital city is coming into range. According to our records, there should be a very large building that houses the government in the center of the city.” She looked up. “According to the sensors, there’s a pile of rubble in the center of the city.”
“This is Tharia ch’Ren,” said a voice over the comm channel, in response to the Hood’ s hail, “representing the new face of the Maquis.”
Hudson and Mastroeni exchanged a glance. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Hudson muttered.
Yet another new voice came on. “Mr. ch’Ren, this is Captain DeSoto. What has happened to the government of Slaybis IV? We haven’t been able to raise them.”
“That is because they’re all dead, Captain. As is the traitor, Elois Phifer. As are several dozen other people. And they’re only the first.”
“You said you’re the ‘new face’ of the Maquis. What does that—”
“What it means, Captain, is quite simply that we have been gentle—quiet. Until now. You have called us ‘terrorists,’but you have not seen true terror before. The citizens of Nramia know the meaning of terror now, and those who dwell on Slaybis IV will do likewise—followed by the farmers on Slaybis II, and everyone else in the Demilitarized Zone.”
“Mr. ch’Ren, do you intend to—”
“We intend to exterminate all life in this sector, Captain. And if you stand in our way, we will exterminate you as well.”
“Well, I don’t like the sound of that,” Dina Voyskunsky muttered from behind DeSoto. She stood between Dayrit and Kojima. The captain silently agreed with her assessment from his vantage point in the command chair.
The image of an Andorian was on the main viewer. Tharia ch’Ren’s feathery white hair extended to the small of his back, and his antennae stood straight up out of his head. His watery yellow eyes seemed almost empty, which made his words all the more disturbing to DeSoto.
Ch’Ren had kept his end of the transmission tight on his face. Based on the sensor readings of the Malkus Artifact and the triangulation of the communication, he was in the capital city, and based on the fact that he wasn’t being rained on, he was indoors—according to Kojima, the capital city had gotten its entire average annual allotment of rainfall in the past two hours—but beyond that, there were no clues as to his precise location.
Dayrit whispered, “Captain, I have something.”
“Hold on a moment, please, Mr. ch’Ren, while I consult with my senior staff.”
The Andorian simply inclined his head.
DeSoto stood up and made a throat-cutting gesture. Once the transmission was muted, he said, “Report.”
“I’m picking up the wreckage of a shuttlecraft in the capital city. It doesn’t match the registry of any of the ships in the Slaybis port—but it does match the configuration of a Maquis shuttle that attacked a Cardassian freighter a couple of days ago and made off with a weapons shipment. Central Command claimed the grenades were for a supply depot in the Chin’toka system, but SI was pretty sure they were earmarked for Dorvan V. It also matches the type of shuttlecraft that would be used on the vessel that attacked Nramia.”
Voyskunsky let out an annoyed breath. “Dorvan’s one of the Cardassian worlds in the DMZ. Captain, if Manolet’s right—”
“And he usually is,” DeSoto added with an appreciative smile at his tactical officer. Dayrit inclined his head in response.
“—then ch’Ren may have crashed his ride here. We’re not reading any other ships in the area—maybe we can use it as a bargaining chip.”
“Let’s hope so.” He sat back down in his chair—it gave him more of a sense of security. Besides, standing was a sign of respect, and DeSoto wasn’t feeling especially respectful for the person responsible for the carnage on Nramia, or the similar carnage the Hood’ s sensors were picking up now.
“I’d like to avoid extermination if at all possible, Mr. ch’Ren,” DeSoto said slowly when ch’Ren’s face reappeared on the viewer. “Perhaps we can discuss a solution that is mutually beneficial to us both.”
“I see no reason to negotiate with you.”
“Right now, I’ve got four phaser banks and a dozen photon torpedoes trained on your location. I also have a means of getting you off-planet—we know your shuttle crash-landed. Besides, I’ve read up on your new toy. It has limitations. My guess is that you can’t do any further damage to the planet for a while. Until it recharges, you’re vulnerable. I don’t want to use force, but I will if I have to.”
“Do you expect me to believe that Starfleet would commit murder?”
“Do you expect me to believe that I won’t respond to your threats? You’ve already expressed a willingness to attack my ship—I’ve now expressed my willingness to respond in kind. Still, given a choice I’d rather talk this out like two intelligent beings.” He leaned back. “Of course, within a couple of days, the Vetar will be here, and I can assure you that Gul Evek will stop at nothing to destroy you after what you did to Nramia.”
“Your attempts to frighten me are pointless, Captain,” ch’Ren said in a hiss. “I have no fear of Gul Evek, nor of any other Cardassian. Do not mistake a minor vulnerability for weakness.” A pause. “However, I am willing to meet with you to discuss terms. I will transmit coordinates to you.”
DeSoto looked up at Kojima, who nodded.
“The room where we will meet will be encased in a forcefield that will prevent any communication signalsfrom penetrating. You will not be able to summon reinforcements, nor transport out of the room. You will come alone, Captain. If you send surrogates or bring others, I will destroy your ship. And if you doubt my ability to do so, I challenge you to find the Maquis vessel christened the Geronimo —or, rather, its twisted hulk.”
With that, ch’Ren cut the signal.
Voyskunsky came around to the middle of the bridge to face DeSoto. “You’re not beaming down alone.”
“You heard him, Dina�
�if I don’t, he attacks. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he wasn’t. If he’s willing to talk, maybe he isn’t as far over the edge as he looks.”
She frowned. “You shouldn’t put yourself—”
“—in danger, I know. You’re not the first first officer to give me this song and dance,” DeSoto said, remembering an incident almost a decade earlier on this very same bridge with Lieutenant Commander William T. Riker. “But right now, I don’t have a choice.”
Voyskunsky’s wide lips pursed. “All right, but if you turn up dead, I’m putting you on report, sir.”
DeSoto grinned. “Noted.”
“Do you really think this is the ‘new face’ of the Maquis?”
Shaking his head, DeSoto said, “Doubtful. Especially if he’s telling the truth about the Geronimo. My guess is he’s gone rogue, and is using the Maquis name to make a bigger stink.”
“Sir?” Dayrit said. “I’ve got something.”
Both DeSoto and Voyskunsky walked around to the tactical console. With a pudgy finger, Dayrit pointed at a sensor reading. “I’m reading the forcefield that ch’Ren’s using. It is proof against communications—but not against transporters. The problem is, getting a lock would be difficult. But a standard-issue transponder should be able to penetrate with no problem. If we program it to send a constant low-level signal, I doubt that ch’Ren will pick it up—it should read as background comm traffic, especially with the additional EM activity from all the thunderstorms he’s been cooking up down there.”
DeSoto put a hand on the security chief’s shoulder. “Good work, Manolet. Have one ready for me in Transporter Room 3.”
“Yes, sir,” Dayrit said with a rare smile.
Turning to the ops officer, Voyskunsky said, “José, I want you tracking that transponder signal every second. If anything happens to the signal—it changes, it modulates, and especially if it goes away—beam him out of there immediately.”
“Will do,” Kojima said with a nod.
“Let’s hit it,” DeSoto said. “The bridge is yours, Dina. I hope to be back soon. I still want a rematch of that Go game.”
Voyskunsky grinned her huge smile. “You’re on, Captain.”
Hudson gathered Chakotay, Tuvok, Mastroeni, Torres, Seska, and McAdams in the mess hall. Tuvok stood against one of the walls by the door, and both Chakotay and Hudson stood with their backs to the rear bulkhead. The other four sat around the largest of the tables. Torres had a padd in her hand, while Mastroeni’s hand hovered near her phaser. Hudson noticed that Mastroeni had made a point of sitting where she could keep an eye on Tuvok.
“Your friend,” Hudson said to Chakotay, “has gone over the edge.”
“And he’s going to take the rest of us with him,” Mastroeni added.
“These two colonies are peaceful—they’re not affiliated with the Federation, Cardassia, or the Maquis. If we let him—”
Chakotay interrupted Hudson. “We’re not going to ‘let’ him do anything. We have to get the artifact back. If we don’t, the Maquis will lose whatever sympathy we have in the Federation. Starfleet and Central Command will come out in force against us.”
Tuvok added, “In addition, such a radical departure from the usual methods will divide the Maquis itself. From what I have seen, the organization is already relatively fractious—in part by design. By committing genocide in the Maquis’s name—”
“We know what’ll happen,” Torres snapped. “Chakotay’s right, we have to get the artifact back.”
Mastroeni shook her head. “The nanosecond we come out from behind this moon, the Hood’ ll be all over us.”
Seska nodded. “She’s right. I for one have no interest in spending the rest of my life in a Federation prison.”
“Actually, we won’t have to leave our hiding place,” Torres said. “I can boost the gain on the transporter so we can get to the surface from here. We’ll have to go down one at a time, but I can do it.”
Chakotay nodded. “Good. Then we can go in, get the artifact, and get out before DeSoto even knows we’re there.”
“Even if he does know we’re there, it won’t matter much,” Seska said. “You heard his deal with Tharia—he’s going down alone. Starfleet captains are usually just stupid enough to actually live up to promises like that.”
Chakotay snorted in what Hudson supposed was agreement, then turned to Torres. “Have you finished that mini-transponder to put on the artifact?”
Torres nodded. “I made four of them, just in case.” She grinned. “Amazing what you can do with a few solenoid transtators.”
“I have an additional suggestion,” Tuvok said.
“As if we care,” Mastroeni muttered.
Hudson shot Mastroeni a look, then said, “What’s your thought, Tuvok?”
“We do as Captain Chakotay suggests—but turn the artifact over to Captain DeSoto.”
“We’re not giving that thing to Starfleet!” Mastroeni said.
“Starfleet has a general order in place that compels them to confiscate the artifacts. If we take possession of it, then we become a target. The Hood will not leave the Demilitarized Zone until they have completed their mission: to retrieve the artifact.” He turned to Hudson and Chakotay. “In addition, it will show Starfleet that Tharia is, in fact, a rogue who does not speak for the Maquis as an organization.”
Chakotay looked at Hudson. Unlike Mastroeni—or Torres or Seska, for that matter—Chakotay had, like Hudson, worn a Starfleet uniform. The Federation might have betrayed the people of the DMZ, but Hudson knew that, in some matters, Starfleet could be trusted. Hudson assumed that Chakotay felt the same.
“Much as I hate to admit it, Starfleet’s better equipped to handle that thing than we are,” Chakotay said after a moment. “They’ve already got two of them, and knowing them, they’ll probably dig up the fourth one before long. And frankly—I don’t want it. It’s already turned one of my trusted comrades into a psychotic killing machine. And Tuvok’s right about something else—Tharia’s done tremendous damage to the cause with what he just said to DeSoto. We have to nip that in the bud before the Hood reports back to Starfleet that we’ve all turned into maniacs. I think capturing the artifact and then handing it to DeSoto will accomplish that.” He smiled wryly. “Besides, I get the feeling we may have to rescue the good captain from Tharia before the day is out. Starfleet captains may be stupid sometimes, but they also usually are properly grateful.”
Hudson considered. Then he looked at Mastroeni and McAdams. The latter nodded quickly. “Darleen?” he prompted.
Predictably, she snarled. “I don’t want to do anything to help Starfleet.”
“I don’t see that we have a choice here.”
For the first time since he’d met her, Darleen Mastroeni smiled. “Oh, there’s always a choice, Cal—just a question of making the right one or not.” She then sighed. “All right, fine. We do it this way. I’m in.”
Chakotay gave his own people the same look.
“I’m in,” Torres said with no hesitation.
“We should just destroy the thing,” Seska said.
“It has been attempted,” Tuvok said.
Undaunted, Seska said, “Then I say we attempt it again.”
“And when we fail?” Chakotay asked.
Seska folded her arms. “Then we give it to Starfleet.”
“All right,” Hudson said. “Chakotay and I will beam down, along with Tuvok.” He cut off Mastroeni before she could object. “I know you don’t trust him, Darleen, but he knows these artifacts better than any of us.” He turned to the others. “We’ll each wear one of Torres’s mini-transponders so she can pick us up again. The fourth’ll go on the artifact, just in case we need to confiscate it for a while.” Looking at Chakotay, he said, “I want to keep my options open.”
“Agreed. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Eight
THE FIRST TIME CAL HUDSON went through a transporter, he was four years old and he thought it was the most wonderful
sensation in the world. One second he was standing on an indoor transporter platform, the next he was in the middle of Central Park in New York City. His father had promised young Cal a ride on the famous carousel, but the four-year-old boy had found the mode of getting to the attraction more exciting. The entire time he sat going around on the artificial horses, he was waiting for it to end so he could go through the transporter again.
In the intervening years, he had tried to keep that same sense of wonder about this mode of travel, though years in Starfleet—where transporters were used almost as often as turbolifts—had dulled it somewhat. Still, he always loved that feeling of moving instantly from one place to another place, watching the world dissolve and re-form.
Beaming down to Slaybis IV from the Liberator, however, was more like watching the world dissolve and then dissolve further.
Rain pelted his face while intense wind slammed into his chest. Instinctively, his right arm went up to protect his eyes. Within seconds, his clothes were soaked through, sticking to his flesh. He was almost afraid to open his mouth to speak.
He squinted under his upheld arm—which was doing precious little to protect his eyes—and saw Chakotay and Tuvok in a similarly bedraggled state.
Just as he was about to scream out if there was shelter nearby, the wind started to die down and the rain lightened.
Hudson lowered his arm. “That Malkus Artifact doesn’t do things halfway, does it?”
Chakotay looked up just as the clouds started to clear. “This is definitely not natural.”
Within seconds, Hudson had to raise his arm again, this time to shield his eyes from the rays of Slaybis that now beat down on its fourth planet’s surface. “I hate to think what this is doing to the planet’s ecosystem.”
“Nothing good, I can tell you that.”
“I just wish Torres could’ve put us down indoors.”
“Look around, Hudson,” Chakotay said, indicating the area with one arm. “There’s not much indoors left.”
Following Chakotay’s gesture, Hudson took stock of his surroundings. He saw no evidence of habitation—whether people were dead or evacuated was impossible to tell—but plenty of evidence of damage. None of the nearby buildings were especially tall, but all were distressed to some degree or other: broken windows, scarred façades, missing doors and parts of roofs. What especially concerned Hudson were the cracks in many of the buildings’ superstructures. Assuming they were constructed from the usual building materials—plastiform, rodinium, and the like—they shouldn’t have cracked like that. Yeah, Hudson thought after a second, and the Geronimo’s hull shouldn’t have buckled from the inside, either.
The Brave and the Bold Book Two Page 9
