It all made sense now. There was only one way to make everything right. Only one way to end all the pain, all the suffering, all the death.
For the first time, he realized the truth—the real truth. Everyone didn’t need to die to avenge his mates. He didn’t need to join the Maquis.
For the last time, he fired his phaser.
But this time, he had it pointed at his own chest.
Still, he kept screaming for as long as he could.
He no longer felt the rain on his chest, even though he felt the pain of the phaser hit. His antennae and ears had both fallen silent. He could no longer hear his own screams.
The one thing he could feel was his sense that at last—after doing so many things wrong—he had done the right thing.
I should have died with them was his final thought before he found he could no longer see, either.
And in his mind, he could hear screams, but they were not his own….
DeSoto stood upright and straightened his uniform. Well, this has been something less than a howling success. While he had been grateful for the arrival of Tuvok, Hudson, and the other one—since ch’Ren seemed likely to shoot DeSoto—things deteriorated pretty quickly.
He looked across the room to see rain pounding in from a hole in the ceiling. Ch’Ren, Hudson, and the third Maquis were all on the ground, getting progressively wetter. The Andorian looked dead. Hudson had a gash on his head that probably had rendered him senseless, and the other Maquis looked like he’d taken a phaser hit as well. Both humans’ chests were rising and falling, at least.
That left DeSoto and Tuvok. Neither of them were armed—DeSoto had come down unarmed, per ch’Ren’s instruction, and Tuvok no doubt hadn’t earned enough of the Maquis’s trust for them to issue him a weapon.
“Good work, Mr. Tuvok,” DeSoto said. The captain noted that the Vulcan was moving closer to the cabinet that held the artifact. “Uh, what, exactly, are you doing?”
“Ensuring our safety.” He seemed to toss something at the artifact.
DeSoto didn’t like the sound of that. “Whose safety?”
“That of the Maquis, of course.”
“The Maquis?” DeSoto really didn’t like the sound of that. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually gone over to these traitors? How could you, of all people, do such a thing?”
“I respectfully submit, Captain, that you do not know me well enough to make such a judgment of my character.”
“We’ll discuss this later. Right now, I’m taking you, your new friends, and the artifact back to the Hood. You’ll all be taken into custody.” DeSoto started to move closer to Tuvok ever so slowly—and also toward Hudson’s weapon, which lay on the floor about two meters from where the former Starfleet officer had fallen.
“I cannot allow that, Captain. You are welcome to take the artifact—it is too dangerous to be allowed in the hands of any but the researchers at the Rector Institute. But you will not take us in.”
DeSoto knew that Tuvok was much closer to ch’Ren’s weapon than he himself was to Hudson’s—and that Tuvok was a Vulcan, and therefore much faster than a human. But words were not going to win this conversation; Tuvok had either truly gone over to the Maquis, or was making far too good a show of his infiltration. Either way, DeSoto couldn’t take any chances.
“Watch me,” he said, and then suddenly dove toward the weapon, grabbed it, and rolled over. The idea was to then rise to his feet on the upward roll, but he wasn’t as young as he once was, and he stumbled twice as he rose.
He found himself facing the barrel of ch’Ren’s phaser, held by Tuvok.
“It was worth a shot,” DeSoto said with a smile. “So now what, Mr. Tuvok? You shoot me?”
Tuvok looked down at the floor. “That won’t be necessary.”
DeSoto couldn’t help but follow Tuvok’s gaze, especially once the Vulcan pointed his phaser at the same spot on the floor.
He saw his transponder about twenty centimeters from his foot. DeSoto had placed it in his boot, but it obviously had dislodged when he rolled over to pick up the phaser.
Oh, crap.
Tuvok fired at the transponder. It disintegrated in an instant.
For the first time, DeSoto cursed his crew’s efficiency. Not a second later, he felt the familiar tinge of a transporter beam as José Kojima—reading the destruction of the transponder—followed orders and had the transporter room lock on to where the transponder had been and beam anything there up.
In less time than it took him to complete the realization that he was being transported, he found himself on the Hood’ s bridge. Voyskunsky got up from the command chair just as he yelled, “Beam me back!”
“What happened?” Voyskunsky asked.
“I’ll explain later.” DeSoto was yelling. Of all the times…“Beam me back, now!”
Kojima said, “Sir, the Malkus Artifact emissions have disappeared from the surface.”
DeSoto blinked. “Dammit. Pick it up, José.”
“Trying, sir.”
Voyskunsky smiled her toothy smile. “Still want to beam back down?”
Glowering at her, DeSoto said, “You’re between me and my chair.”
“Mine ’umblest apologies, sir,” she said, stepping aside and indicating the command chair with a flourish.
As he sat down, DeSoto said, “Manolet, can you get a life-sign reading from where I was beamed out?”
Dayrit shook his head. “Not reading anything, sir. The forcefield’s down, by the way—but there are no indications of life.” A pause. “We’re being hailed.”
DeSoto frowned. “By who?”
“It’s a ship in orbit of the third moon—they’re just coming into sensor range.”
“Sir,” Kojima said, “I’ve picked up the artifact—it’s now in orbit around the planet’s third moon.”
Voyskunsky let out a breath. “Gee, I wonder who they could be.”
“Baifang, intercept course for that ship, half impulse,” DeSoto said in a tight voice.
“Aye, sir.”
“Shields up, red alert, all hands to battle stations. Arm phasers and load torpedo bays. Can you identify them, Manolet?”
As the bridge was plunged into red lights and the alert klaxon started to sound, Dayrit said, “Configuration matches one of the ships that engaged Commander Sisko and his forces at Bryma last year.”
DeSoto nodded. “Hudson. He was one of the Maquis I met down there, along with another human—and Tuvok.” He sighed. “Put the Maquis on screen.”
To DeSoto’s complete lack of surprise, Tuvok’s face appeared on the viewer. He appeared to be standing in a mess hall that looked fairly generic. No one else was with him—a wise precaution, as it meant that no one aside from Hudson and that other human could be identified. “My apologies for forcing your exit, Captain, but I could not allow you to take me or my allies into custody.”
“‘Allies,’ huh?”
“I would have thought, Captain, that my theft of the Manhattan made my intentions clear enough. Since it has not, let me officially tender my resignation now. I am a member of the Maquis.”
“Good. That’s another charge I can add when I arrest you. We in range, Manolet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fire phasers on the Maquis ship.”
Two seconds passed, and no phasers fired. “Sir, I’ve lost weapons control. And shields are going down!” Dayrit slammed his hand against the console. “Dammit! I’ve been cut off.”
Hsu said, “I’ve lost helm control.”
“Internal and short-range sensors functioning,” Kojima said, “but long-range is offline.”
“Again, my apologies, Captain,” Tuvok said. “It would have been wise to change the Hood’s prefix codes after my departure.”
DeSoto gritted his teeth. They hadn’t changed them because they hadn’t expected Tuvok to use that knowledge against them, or give it to the Maquis.
“Something’s being transported into Cargo Bay 2,” Kojima
said. “Sensors are reading an explosive device!”
Dayrit tapped his combadge. “Security to Cargo Bay 2.”
“Is anybody in there?” Voyskunsky asked.
Kojima shook his head. “No, the bay’s empty.” Then an alarm sounded. “Explosion in Cargo Bay 2! Hull has been breached; forcefields sealing it off. And sir—now I’m picking up the Malkus Artifact in the cargo bay.”
“I attached a small explosive to the artifact, Captain,” Tuvok said. “I told you that Starfleet was welcome to the Malkus Artifact. That was the truth. Tharia ch’Ren did not speak for the Maquis. We have no interest in attacking civilian targets such as the two planets in the Slaybis system—or Nramia, for that matter. Nor do we have any interest in a weapon that would have such a corrupting influence.”
“You expect us to just let you go?” DeSoto said.
“Yes, sir, I do. Going to warp with a hull breach would be ill advised.”
Hsu turned to look at DeSoto. “They’re moving out of orbit, preparing to go to warp.”
“Czierniewski to bridge. I’m negating the override of the prefix codes.”
“They’re going to warp,” Hsu said.
Voyskunsky shook her head. “Too damn late.”
Tuvok said, “I suggest you examine the artifact, Captain. You may find it educational. Tuvok out.”
The Vulcan’s face disappeared from the viewer, replaced by the Maquis ship, which went into warp.
“Czierniewski to bridge. You should have full functions now.”
“Helm control active,” Hsu said.
Kojima added, “I’ve got long-range.”
Voyskunsky waked around to the ops console. “Can you pick the Maquis up?”
He shook his head. “They’re not on the same heading.”
DeSoto sighed. “They beat us.”
Bitterly, Dayrit said, “Tuvok beat us.”
Voyskunsky raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure he did. He went out of his way not to do any permanent damage to us. He had access to our systems, so he knew Cargo Bay 2 would be empty. He did enough damage to keep us from going to warp after him, but that’s it. And he did all of it while consolidating his cover, because I’m sure that right now his Maquis buddies think he’s the bee’s knees.”
Dayrit said, “Commander, they’d also think that if he really did join them.”
“There’s one way to find out,” DeSoto said, standing suddenly. “Tuvok specifically told me to check out the artifact. Has your security team reported, Manolet?”
Checking his status board, Dayrit said, “Yes, sir. The cargo bay’s secure—and there’s a black box sitting on the deck near the hole in the wall.”
“Good. You have the bridge. C’mon, Dina,” DeSoto said, moving toward the turbolift. “Let’s see if he really did leave us a message.”
Within minutes, they arrived in the cargo bay. DeSoto tried not to look at the big hole in the hull that made it look like the bay was exposed to space. Right now, a forcefield was all that kept that look from being the truth.
Two of Dayrit’s people, Weiss and Hayat, were also present, going over the room with tricorders.
Weiss said, “It’s all secure, sir—but, uh, there’s something attached to the artifact.”
“Looks like some kind of mini-transponder,” Hayat added.
“Is that what it is?” Weiss frowned. “I’m reading a solenoid transtator. Who the hell still uses transtators?”
Voyskunsky’s wide smile split her face. “Maquis who have to scrounge for parts.” She knelt down by the artifact and found a small, flat, circular object no more than a centimeter in diameter. It came off the black box with no difficulty.
Hayat’s eyes widened. “I’m reading an ODN chip in there.”
“How much you want to bet that’s Tuvok’s message?” Voyskunsky said with her trademark smile.
DeSoto returned the smile. “No bet.”
As they turned to leave, the artifact suddenly gave off a brief discharge of green light. DeSoto had to blink spots out of his eyes. “Report,” he quickly said.
Both Weiss and Hayat examined their tricorders. “No indication of anything harmful, Captain,” Weiss said.
“But the artifact’s now reading inert,” Hayat added.
Voyskunsky indicated the artifact with an inclination of her head. “Look, it’s not glowing anymore, either. Just a plain black box.” She scratched her chin. “Come to think of it, I think the same thing happened to the other two after they were separated from their users. But there wasn’t anything in the records about ill effects suffered by the people involved with their mission.”
Blowing out a breath, DeSoto said, “Probably just some kind of shutdown procedure.” To the security guards, he said, “Stow that thing somewhere safe.” Then, to his first officer, he said, “C’mon, Dina, let’s see what Mr. Tuvok has to say.”
Chapter Nine
CAL HUDSON FOUND CHAKOTAY SITTING in the mess hall of the Liberator. He was nursing a cup of tea that had gone cold and staring at the bulkhead. Hudson was standing halfway across the room from him, but he could smell the dirt and grime on his clothing even from there.
“I’ve gotten a request from the crew, Chakotay,” Hudson said after a moment. “They’ve asked me to drag you—kicking and screaming, if necessary—to the cargo deck so you can get out a change of clothes.”
Chakotay shook his head, as if coming out of a daze, and looked over at Hudson. “I’m sorry?”
“Your clothes, Chakotay. You haven’t changed since we beamed up from Slaybis. And, after the multiple weather offerings we got, the ones you’re wearing are pretty ripe. People want to eat in here, but thanks to you, they walk right out with a lost appetite.”
“I’m—I’m sorry, I’ll change, of course. It, ah—it hasn’t been at the top of my list.”
Hudson smiled. “Wasn’t at the top of mine, either. But then, I was unconscious. Last thing I remember was a piece of wall falling on my head—then I’m lying on my bunk with a bandage on my head.” His hand involuntarily went up to the electronic bandage that still sat over the wound the debris had made when the lightning had shattered part of the building on Slaybis.
“That’s a better excuse than mine,” Chakotay said with a small smile.
“I’m not so sure about that. I assume you’re thinking about Tharia.”
Chakotay snorted. “Gee, how’d you guess?”
Deciding to brave the olfactory gauntlet, Hudson walked across the mess hall and sat across from Chakotay. The smell was almost overpowering, and Hudson wondered how Chakotay could stand it.
“I keep going over what happened in my head,” Chakotay said, “trying to figure out some way I could’ve changed things. If I’d just stunned him as soon as we walked in the door—”
“And if you’d missed?”
“Then I’d have fired again.” Chakotay went to take a sip of his tea, realized it was cold, then put it back down. “We could’ve stopped him.”
“And when he woke up?”
“I don’t know, but he didn’t have to—” Chakotay cut himself off. “I’m sick of death, Hudson. Every time I turn around, I see people dying—more to the point, family dying. My family on Trebus, Tharia’s family on Beaulieu’s, hell, even Tuvok’s family on Amniphon. And it’s only going to get worse.”
Hudson nodded. “I know. I lost my wife, Gretchen, not long ago—not to the Cardassians,” he added quickly, “but—well, I wonder sometimes if I would’ve done what I did if she were still alive.”
Chakotay stood up just as the door to the mess hall opened again. “We should’ve been able to save him.”
“Perhaps,” said the new arrival: Tuvok. “But we were not. It is illogical to dwell on that which we cannot change.”
“Maybe, Tuvok,” Chakotay said, “but it’s just as illogical to ignore the past when you can learn from it.”
“True. However, my concern is not with the past, but with the future.”
Smi
ling, Hudson said, “You want to know if we’re going to let you join or shoot you down where you stand?”
“I had assumed the second alternative to be somewhat less dramatic than you describe, but you are essentially correct.”
Hudson had, in fact, been considering that very thing since he woke up. The Liberator was currently on course to the Badlands in order to make sure that they had truly shaken the Hood; then it would proceed to a Maquis safe house to off-load Chakotay’s people. Torres had made noises about having to scrounge for another ship, but her grumbling had been good-natured—she seemed to enjoy the challenges of taking clapped-out old ships and making them work. Of course, Mastroeni hadn’t stopped her attempts to recruit the half-Klingon woman, but Torres was apparently having none of it.
That left the question of what to do with their apparent new recruit.
“We can’t deny,” Hudson said after a moment, “that you kept your word—and you definitely fought for our side.”
“He and DeSoto were in the room alone together. That was a perfect opportunity to turn both of us in, and he didn’t take it. Instead, he did everything he could to make sure we got away from the Hood safely—and gave them that damned artifact while he was at it.” Chakotay gave a lopsided smile. “It’s not like Starfleet isn’t chomping at the bit to get both of us into a prison cell, after all. They tend to get self-righteous about people who ‘betray the uniform.’”
“Betray, hell,” Hudson said, his expression sour. “I’ve done more to uphold what Starfleet’s supposed to stand for since I joined the Maquis than I ever did as one of their officers.”
“It is my hope,” Tuvok said in a quiet voice, “to do likewise.”
“I hope so, Mr. Tuvok, because unless Captain Chakotay here has an objection, I think you’d be a welcome addition to the ranks.”
Chakotay shook his head. “No objections here. In fact, I’d like to offer you a place with me. After all, I—” His voice caught. “I just lost a hand at operations, and I think it’d be nice to have someone in that position who was less—volatile than he was.” He turned to Hudson. “Unless you have any objections?”
The Brave and the Bold Book Two Page 11
