Twist of Faith

by S. D. Perry

  “I was on the Sungari. They beamed me over before it blew up.”

  “Blew up?” Her voice raised an octave. “Obviously, I should have stayed on the bridge.”

  Shar’s antennae quivered. “It’s all right, Zhavey, everything turned out fine.” He hesitated, and then lied. “It’s good to see you.”

  Vretha’s own antennae did likewise. “It’s especially good to see you given what happened to your runabout. I was actually going to come to the station after I was done on Europa Nova in any case. We need to talk, Thirishar.”

  What would be the point? Shar almost said aloud, but he kept the respectful mask plastered to his face. “I’m afraid I can’t right now, Zhavey. The crisis is not—”

  Waving her hand in what appeared to be a dismissive gesture, Vretha said, “Of course not now, Thirishar. You have duties to perform, and I need to check on my ship—I lent it to the relief efforts so they could get the children off-planet right away. We’ll talk when we both have time to do so.” She stared Shar directly in the eye. “But we will talk. We have danced around this subject for far too long.”

  “Yes, Zhavey,” Shar said dutifully.

  “You always say ‘yes, Zhavey’ in that respectful tone,” Vretha noted, “yet you never change, Thirishar. It is a stalling tactic I will not tolerate any longer.”

  “I’m sorry, Zhavey.”

  “No, I don’t think you are.” Vretha’s voice sounded sad now. “And that is a pity.” She closed her eyes. “But enough of this. We will speak later. Be whole, Thirishar.” With that, she walked off.

  Shar struggled to keep his emotions in check. It would not do to smash a bulkhead right now with all this security and these civilians around. He latched on to the anger, wrestled with it, and forced it down into the dark corner of his mind where it normally lived—and from which it inevitably clawed its way out every time he talked to Vretha.

  Once he felt he was under sufficient control, he also walked off the Defiant and into the docking ring corridor, where he saw Nog. “There you are,” the Ferengi said. “Was that your—what’s the word? Zhavey?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Shar himself hadn’t noticed any alteration in his voice at first, but Nog almost flinched from Shar’s tone. Perhaps I haven’t buried my anger as efficiently as I believed, he thought with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Shar said quickly. “I’m afraid that she does not bring out the best in me.”

  Smiling, Nog said, “That’s all right. C’mon, we need to head to ops to brief everyone on our brilliant theory.” As they walked toward a turbolift, Nog added, “Mothers can be difficult. Mine took Father for all he was worth before the marriage contract ended, then remarried a richer man.”

  Frowning, Shar thought back to the conversations about Ferengi mores that they’d had in the Sungari. “I thought Ferengi women couldn’t do that sort of thing before the reforms.”

  “Well, it was her father’s doing, really. I think. Honestly, I don’t remember most of that—I was very young. Father was destitute after that, and took me here to work for Uncle Quark.”

  “And now he’s the Grand Nagus.” Shar considered, then smiled. “It seems to me that your mother should have cause to regret her decision.”

  Nog laughed. “Probably. I wonder if Father’s gotten in touch with her since going home to Ferenginar.”

  Shar smiled, and he already felt better, the anger well and truly buried now. This is where I belong, Zhavey, not back on Andor—no matter what you or anyone else says.

  He also had to admire Nog’s grace under pressure. He hadn’t let their life-or-death situation get to him at all. I suppose that comes of spending most of the war on the front lines. Shar himself had been fortunate enough to miss any direct combat, spending most of the war working feverishly in a lab.

  As they entered the turbolift, Shar said, “Let us go and be brilliant, my friend.”

  Nog grinned. “Ops.”

  Chapter Eight

  Europa Nova

  “Take all transporters offline.”

  It was an order Kira had not looked forward to giving, but she’d known all along it was inevitable. Antimatter waste now made up an entire orbit of Europa Nova, forming a deadly green ring around the planet. The ring was thickest at the gateway, of course, the point from which the cloud of hazardous material originated, and it thinned as it arced above the planet surface. Now every ship needed to keep its shields up to protect them from the radiation. The concentration was such that, even at the polar regions, transporters were unreliable.

  At least Nog’s shield modulator is working, she thought, thanking the Prophets for her operations officer’s impeccable timing in consummating his business deal just when they needed it most.

  The Gryphon, the Halloran, and the Xhosa were on their way to Deep Space 9 to drop off more refugees, and the Defiant was already there doing the same. The Xhosa had somehow managed to make some extra room, relieving the Euphrates of the refugees it had picked up, allowing Kira to remain in charge of the evacuation.

  Europa Nova’s surface transporters—still operational for the time being—were being used to bring the five hundred thousand the Jarada were allowing to Costa Rocosa to make use of the gateway there.

  “Transporters offline,” Captain Emick acknowledged, and Colonel Lenaris echoed the reply a moment later, followed by the civilian captains.

  “Implement plan B,” Kira ordered.

  “We’ve found a landing site for the Intrepid,” Emick said. “It’s right outside Padilla. I think we can take the city’s remaining population on this run.”

  “Good.”

  “Colonel,” Taran’atar said, “I’m detecting a dense concentration of theta radiation in the upper atmosphere.”

  The voice of one of the officers on the Intrepid came through the comlink. “Confirmed,” she said. “A solid mass of waste material has fallen out of orbit. On its present course, it’ll land four kilometers due west of Spilimbergo.”

  Kira checked the configuration of the convoy. The Gryphon had been evacuating Spilimbergo. Between the starship and the assorted private craft, not to mention the earlier evac of the children, a bit less than half of the city’s population of three hundred and fifty thousand had been evacuated thus far. Right now, with the Gryphon on its way to the Bajoran system, the Euphrates was in closest proximity to the threat.

  Without hesitating, Kira changed course and reset the shields for an atmospheric entry. “Kira to Bashir.”

  “Bashir here,” said a very tired-sounding chief medical officer.

  “Doctor, what would be the effects of a meteoric collision of a mass putting out”—she glanced at her console—“a hundred thousand kilorads of theta radiation four kilometers from a population center?”

  “In a word, devastating. I could give you precise figures if you want, but the short version is the population center would be as good as dead.”

  “That’s what I thought you were going to say.”

  Emick spoke up. “Colonel, what are you doing?”

  “Saving lives,” Kira said. “Doctor, how far from the population center would the waste need to be to minimize the danger?”

  “Well, on another planet would be ideal.”

  “Julian…”

  “Sorry, Colonel. I would estimate a minimum of a hundred kilometers.”

  Next to her, Taran’atar said, “I have reconfigured the tractor beam with additional power from the warp drive.” He turned to Kira. “I assume your intent is to divert the meteorite.”

  Grateful for the Jem’Hadar’s instincts, she said, “That’s the plan. Activate the beam on my mark.”

  “Why not just destroy it?” Bashir asked.

  Emick replied, “Doctor, if we could just destroy the antimatter waste with phasers, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. Colonel, you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Euphrates is the only ship close enough, Captain,” Kira said as she guided th
e ship through the cloud cover. “Our new modulated shields are protecting us against the radiation. As it is, we’re cutting it close.”

  The other Intrepid officer said, “Colonel, I’ve found a lake about a hundred seventy-five kilometers northwest of Spilimbergo. You should be able to divert the mass there. The only life-form readings I’m getting within a hundred kilometers are flora.”

  Kira found that lake on her sensor display. The locals called it Lago DeBacco. “Got it. Thanks.”

  “Good luck, Colonel,” Emick said. “With your permission, I’ll inform President Silverio.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Kira out.”

  As the Euphrates came out of the cloud cover, Kira quickly ran her fingers over the console, calculating the course she’d need to take. She had to angle her approach just right so that, when the tractor beam was activated, she’d be able to divert the meteorite to the lake in question. It was a delicate piece of navigation, made more challenging by having to account for prevailing winds—which, it turned out, were pretty fierce near Lago DeBacco.

  Just like the good old days, she thought with a half-smile. Piloting skimmers around Dakhur Province in the dead of winter, avoiding the Cardassian patrols. No sensors worth mentioning, wind shear way beyond the skimmer’s capacity, flying by the seats of their collective pants. All she had to worry about was keeping alive and watching the other cell members’ backs, with the assured faith that the Prophets would guide them to freedom if they just kept fighting, kept believing. Politics didn’t matter. You didn’t have to say the right thing or not step on the appropriate toes or go through a chain of command—it was just you, the cell, and the enemy.

  As the Euphrates neared the mass—which was careening toward the surface at an alarming rate, cutting a trail of green death across the sky as it fell—Kira shook her head at her own wistfulness. Great, now I’m getting nostalgic for the occupation. What does that say about my life?

  “Tractor beam ready,” Taran’atar said.

  It’s so simple for you, she thought at her Jem’Hadar companion. You have your duty, and you perform it. You don’t have to worry about what Starfleet will think or what the Vedek Assembly will think or what the Ministry will think or what the Bajoran people will think. You just have to do what you’re told.

  Sometimes Kira longed for that kind of simplicity.

  The console beeped—they were in range. She waited until the angle of approach was just right, then said, “Activate tractor beam.”

  As she spoke, she changed course.

  Her stomach lurched violently as the runabout—which had been accelerating toward the surface of the planet at maximum impulse—altered its flight path upward.

  “Tractor beam holding,” Taran’atar said.

  Kira could only nod. The bitter taste of half-digested hasperat started to well up in her throat. It’s been way too long since I did something like this, she thought. Stomach’s not used to it. Been spending too much damn time sitting at a desk.

  Taran’atar, of course, did not look in the least bit put out. “We are exceeding the tractor-beam tolerances.”

  Forcing the hasperat down, she said, “Just another six seconds.”

  The Euphrates continued to arc away from the surface, the ship fighting against the momentum of the antimatter waste to which it was tethered. The impulse engines strained, but held.

  Then, finally, when the mass had changed course sufficiently to land in Lago DeBacco, Kira said, “Disengage tractor beam.”

  The Euphrates lurched as, no longer burdened with the tremendous mass, its velocity jumped suddenly. Once again, Kira’s stomach heaved, but she kept her hands on the controls. Something blew out in one of the aft consoles. She couldn’t afford to slow the runabout down, as any moment…

  A shock wave rocked the Euphrates as the meteorite collided with the westernmost side of the lake. Kira was able to remain in her seat, but only barely. All those years of bouncing around in Bajoran skimmers pays off, she thought with a bitter smile. The shock wave was considerably less than a direct impact would have been—the Euphrates’s tractoring also served to retard the meteorite’s rate of descent, greatly reducing the force of its landing.

  “Shields have held,” Taran’atar said. “No radiation has penetrated. We remain uncontaminated. But this vessel’s tractor-beam generator has burned out.”

  Kira smiled. We did it.

  Then she put Lago DeBacco on the main viewer.

  The smile fell.

  Five minutes ago, Lago DeBacco had been a lush, thriving lake. Reddish-blue water flowed gently across, fed from several local rivers that acted as tributaries. An entire ecosystem had lived in it—a teeming mass of plant life.

  Now, in spots where the runabout’s optical sensors could penetrate the billowing green mist that filled the valley—irradiated water vapor from the lake—the terrain was reduced to blasted ruin. Trees and bushes proximate to ground zero that weren’t vaporized were already showing signs of decay from the theta radiation. No one would be able to approach Lago DeBacco without decontamination forcefields for many years to come.

  Europa Nova had its first scar.

  Kira swore an oath right there that it would also be the last.

  “We are receiving a communication from L’Aquila, Colonel,” said Taran’atar. “It is President Silverio.”

  Sighing, Kira said, “On screen.” Here it comes. The outrage at destroying such a beautiful piece of nature. The anger at not being consulted. I so hate politicians.

  Grazia Silverio’s pleasant face appeared on the screen, looking even more haggard than before. The bags under her eyes had doubled in size since Kira had last seen her, and her jowls seemed to droop even more. The theta radiation that they were flying through interfered somewhat with the communication, and the image blinked in and out. “Colonel, Captain Emick tells me the town of Spilimbergo owes you a debt of gratitude.”

  Kira blinked. “Uh—”

  “I understand you diverted the meteorite that was endangering the town at considerable risk to yourself.”

  “Honestly, ma’am, the only risk was that it would fail to divert far enough to save Spilimbergo. Starfleet makes its runabouts pretty sturdy.” That much, at least, was true. The structural integrity field had held up with no sign of strain. If she’d tried that move with one of the old Bajoran skimmers, it would have torn itself apart.

  “Apf,” she said, waving her arm. “Don’t give me false modesty. The point is, you took the risk, and saved lives. And you got us that gateway at Costa Rocosa. You have my gratitude for that.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, although Commander Vaughn found the gateway.”

  “Grazia, it’s Grazia,” she said with a tired smile. Then she was distracted by something off-screen. “What? Oh, all right. I must go, Colonel—there is still much to do, but I wanted to thank you personally. As long as you’re in charge, I’m sure we’ll get through this.”

  With that, she signed off.

  As the Euphrates came out of the atmosphere and back into orbit, a signal came through from Vaughn, back on the station.

  “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “Good news, Colonel. Lieutenant Nog and Ensign ch’Thane have devised a method of disrupting the gateways—possibly even shutting them down permanently. It’s a modified tachyon burst that can be easily done from the Defiant.”

  “Glad to hear it, Commander. Would we have to do this on a gateway-by-gateway basis or would it knock out the whole network?”

  “Ensign ch’Thane seems to think that activating it at one gateway will cripple the entire network at once. That might cause more problems than it solves, of course.”

  Kira let out a breath through her teeth. Vaughn was right—who knew what kind of uses the gateways were being put to? Yes, the sudden mass opening of the gateways was causing chaos all over the quadrant—if not the entire galaxy—but shutting them down just as suddenly wouldn’t necessarily improve things.

  On the othe
r hand, the Iconians were, from all reports, lording this technology all over the Alpha Quadrant. It was about time the tables were turned. Besides, the reports Kira had been monitoring from Starfleet indicated that the situation was just getting worse—problems ranging from vandalism to murder to the rekindling of hostilities between governments were rampant. All-out war might well have been the next consequence unless something radical was done soon to stem the tide. Shutting down the gateways might well be it…especially if doing so stopped more antimatter waste from coming into orbit of Europa Nova.

  Then again, it would also cut off what was rapidly becoming their most important evac point: the gateway at Costa Rocosa.

  So, with extreme reluctance, Kira decided that she had no choice but to do something she rarely did: pass the buck. “Run this by Admiral Ross, just in case there’s something going on we don’t know about that would preclude shutting down the gateways. Besides, we can’t do anything until we’ve evacuated Europa Nova, and that gateway you found is the only way we’ll be able to get it done before the theta radiation gets fatal.”

  “Understood and agreed. I’ve got a message in to the admiral now.”

  “Good.” She changed the Euphrates’s course. “In the meantime, I’m not just going to sit here waiting for another meteorite to endanger the planet.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Kira quickly explained about the irradiated mass that had nearly destroyed Spilimbergo. “Since this crisis started, we’ve been reacting. It’s past time we acted. The runabout isn’t going to help much with the evacuation—but I can take it through the gateway to the other side and try to cut this off at the source. Somebody’s using Europa Nova as their personal dumping ground, and it’s going to stop now—before something comes through that we can’t stop from killing anyone.”