Star Trek - DS9 - Heart Of The Warrior - Book 17
Page 1
Star Trek Deep Space 9
17
Heart Of The Warrior
CHAPTER
1
STATION LOG, CAPTAIN Benjamin Sisko, Arconina.
The Valtusian peace conference is scheduled to
begin in two days aboard DS9. The Valtusians
have managed the near impossible through
tireless behind-the-scenes work, persuading not
only representatives of the Cardassian govern-
ment, but Maquis and Federation representatives
to sit down together in the hopes of finally settling
the Maquis problem.
Complicating logistics will be the loss of three
key station personnel Major Kira, Lieutenant
Commander Worf, and Security Chief Odo, who
are being dispatched on a high-priority mission
into the Gamma Quadrant one day before the
conference begins...
Major Kira Nerys leaned forward as far as she
could, gazing out the vast curve of the Promenade's
viewport toward the docking ring. She felt a growing
sense of anticipation as she scanned the ships at-
tached to the space station's outermost section for the
one at Docking Pylon 7. She gazed past a beautiful
new planet-hopper at Docking Pylon 5, past an old
but serviceable Bajoran cargo carrier at Docking
Pylon 6, and then found herself staring at an ancient,
battered-looking transport ship parked just beyond
them.
The moment she saw it, she thought she'd made a
mistake. That hunk of junk couldn't possibly be their
ship. Quickly she began counting out around the
docking ring, and once again she came to the same
broken-down wreck in Docking Port 7. What was
Quark trying to do, get them all killed? A flash of rage
passed through her, and she struggled to keep her
temper under control. This wasn't anything like the
sleek, fast little starship she'd been led to expect.
The transport ship had to be at least fifty years old.
Its hull held hundreds if not thousands of pockmarks
from collisions with space debris, and more than a
couple of phaser burns scarred the nacelles, which
hunched over the passenger cabin. One such burn had
been sloppily patched with what looked like scrap
iron. She leaned closer, straining to make out the
details. Not durasteel, she thought, appalled, and not
even regular steel--raw scrap iron.
I'm going to strangle him, she thought, gripping the
railing as though it were the Ferengi's scrawny little
neck. There's no doubt about it this time. I'm going to
strangle him.
She felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle with
indignation. She had suspected Quark would try to
pull a fast one, and of course he had. When would
Sisko learn not to deal with him? Trusting a Ferengi to
get a civilian ship for them--it was nothing short of
suicidal.
She shook her head in disgust and released the
railing. "He can't be serious," she said, turning to
Chief O'Brien beside her. She pointed at the ship.
"Tell me that's not it!"
O'Brien frowned as he peered at the note in his
hand. "Docking Port 7," he read. "That's her, all
right. Perhaps she's not as bad as she looks."
"Right." She gave a derisive snort. "It's going to be
ten times worse."
"We won't know till we look inside," O'Brien went
on. His words sounded forced even to Kira.
"Come on, then," she said, turning toward the
turbolift. "Let's get it over with so we can start
looking for a real ship."
She wove her way through the crowds on the
Promenade toward the nearest lift, letting her anger
build to a white-hot fury. The station was packed, and
crowds swelled the Promenade to bursting, but she
noticed that everyone who saw her face or met her
gaze had the good sense to scramble out of her way. I
never was very good at hiding my feelings, she thought.
At least Quark won't mistake my reaction to his ship.
She'd known Quark for quite a few years, and
though he'd always cut comers in his rush to make a
profit, this was the most blatant rip-off she'd ever seen
him try to pull. It bordered on criminal. And he had
nerve to pull it on her--on all the station's command
personnel! Well, he wasn't going to get away with it,
she vowed, quickening her pace. She'd see to that.
The turbolift doors opened as she approached, and
a pair of Vulcans in dark cloaks strolled out, gazing
around with faintly curious expressions. They had
probably come to monitor the peace conference, she
thought... not that she had much hope for success.
It had taken her people decades to wrest freedom
from Cardassia. How could the Maquis expect suc-
cess practically overnight? She nodded politely to the
Vulcans and entered the turbolift, with O'Brien right
on her heels.
"Docking ring," she snapped to the computer. The
doors whisked closed, and they rode out in silence.
"Perhaps..." O'Brien mused.
Kira glanced at him and was shocked to find an
intrigued look on his face. She'd never been great at
reading people, but there couldn't be any mistaking
his expression.
"You're thinking of taking that ship, aren't you?"
she demanded.
"Uh... well, I'd have to have a closer look first, of
course," he said, shifting a little uncomfortably. A
hint of a blush crept into his cheeks. "It's not what's
outside that counts, after all--"
"Forget it! Just forget it!" Kira said, waving her
arms for emphasis. Had everyone on the station gone
crazy? "It's not going to happen! There's no way I'm
going off to the Gamma Quadrant in that pile of
junk!"
The lift door opened before O'Brien could answer,
and Kira whirled and strode out angrily into the
bustle of travelers, cargo handlers, and station person-
nel. DS9 never seenled to sleep anymore, she thought,
and with the peace conference coming up, ships were
arriving at a dizzying rate. Every berth on the docking
ring was occupied, and more sat waiting in queue to
disburse passengers and cargo. Dax and half the Ops
staff were busy juggling schedules to make sure every-
one got aboard the station in a timely manner.
She paused and glanced up and down the broad
curve of the docking ring. Where was that Ferengi
bastard? With so much going on, he had to be here.
Kira finally spotted Quark and his brother Rom
standing off to one side talking to a pair of Andorians.
The Andorians kept glancing around nervously; they
se
emed to be trying to keep a low profile, Kira
thought. Although they wore long, concealing brown
tunics with simple brass-colored belts, their shocks of
white hair, bright blue skins, and antennae stood out
in sharp contrast to everything around them.
Close by them, she noticed a pair of Bajoran cargo
handlers in one-piece red uniforms lounging incon-
spicuously, as though on break. I know those two, she
realized, and then managed to place their faces. They
were two of Odo's deputies. They had to be keeping
Quark under surveillance, Kira thought with a touch
of glee... leave it to Odo. Even with all the bustle
going on, the constable still had time to keep tabs on
the station's number one suspect.
Surveillance or not, she had her own problems with
Quark right now, and she wasn't about to wait for him
to finish his business with the Andorians. She stalked
forward. The Andorians spotted her, muttered some-
thing to Quark, and hastily turned and walked farther
up the docking ring. Probably smugglers, Kira
thought with distaste; Quark would deal with anyone
or anything if it meant profit. Still, she would trust
Odo to keep him in check.
Her thoughts turned to the ship he was trying to
foist off on them, and again her anger boiled up. I can
handle this, she told herself. I will not strangle him.
Yet.
"Quark--" she began, drawing to a halt in front of
him.
"Major Kira!" Quark said, grinning happily. "Your
ship has just arrived, exactly as ordered. And what a
beauty, too--the Galactic Queen, a pleasure cruiser
serving the Orjax Cluster until two weeks ago. Why,
she only has fifty million light-years on her warp
engines--"
Kira clenched her jaw. I'm not going to strangle
him, she told herself again. She opened her mouth to
give an angry retort, but O'Brien interrupted.
"And I'll bet," O'Brien said from behind her, "that
she hasn't had a single day of regularly scheduled
maintenance. We looked her over from the observa-
tion deck on the Promenade. We couldn't help but
notice all the damage she's sustained over the years."
"Decades, rather," Kira muttered. Leave it to a
human to try to play peacemaker, she thought. She
gave O'Brien a displeased glance, but he flashed her a
quick grin.
"A few minor cosmetic blemishes..." Quark be-
gan, giving them both a reassuring smile. "A little
paint and you won't even know the difference. Isn't
that right, Rom?"
"True, brother," Rom said quickly. "A little paint
is all she needs."
"There you have it," Quark said with a winning
smile.
"Paint." Kira folded her arms and contented her-
self with leveling a piercing stare at the little Ferengi.
It seemed to work, she noticed with some satisfaction;
Quark shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
"You won't find a better ship," he said.
"Come on," O'Brien said, holding out one hand.
"Let's get it over with. I need the technical specs and
the registration papers."
"Of course." Quark held out his palm and Rom
slapped a datachip into it. Quark passed the chip over
to O'Brien, then turned and led the way toward
Airlock 7, saying, "She's a Delphi-class transport
ship. As you no doubt already noticed, she is built
using the finest Thelorian construction from human
blueprints, with only fifty million light-years on her
warp engines--"
"It won't do," Kira said flatly. Quark could talk it
up until his tongue fell out, but it didn't change one
simple fact The ship was a disaster. "For one thing,
we need an airtight hull."
"Delphi-class?" O'Brien said, nodding. "I thought
so. I worked on a couple of Delphi-class ships during
the Cardassian w ar."
Delphi-class? Was that important? Kira glanced
over at him. O'Brien's forehead had wrinkled in
thought again. What was so great about a Delphi-class
ship? It was just another obsolete model, as far as she
knew. Wasn't it?
"That's right," Quark said smoothly, "a classic,
isn't that so, Rorn?"
"Right, brother," Rom said, rubbing his hands
together nervously. "They don't make them like that
anymore."
Kira gave a snort. "I can see why," she said. "It's a
death trap."
Reaching the proper airlock, Quark punched an
access code into the hand pad, then stood back as the
huge red door rolled to the side like a cog in some vast
clockwork mechanism.
Instantly a dank, wet, unpleasant odor flowed out
through the airlock. Kira gagged and took a step back.
"What the hell is that stink?" she demanded, cover-
ing her nose and mouth with one hand. It had to be
coming from inside the ship, she thought. What was
Quark trying to do, poison them on top of everything
else?
The smell got worse. Gasping, Kira retreated a
couple of meters. It smelled like rotting meat and raw
sewage mixed together, she thought, fighting down
bile. She'd never smelled anything quite so foul.
Quark, too, was covering his nose. "Rom?" he
demanded. "What's the meaning of this?"
"Brother, I think they mentioned a small problem
with the ship's air filtration system," Rom said. "I'm
sure I can fix it."
"No problem, then," Quark said. He turned back to
O'Brien and gave a nervous little laugh. "Rom can fix
it later tonight. Shall we look inside?"
"Close it up," O'Brien said, frowning and covering
his own mouth and nose. "I'm not going in there with
anything less than an environment suit!"
Quark punched in the code again and the door
rolled shut. "Rom will get right on it," he promised.
"This ship is not even remotely acceptable," Kira
said. She continued to fight down nausea. "You'll
have to do better, Quark, if you expect to make a
deal."
"It's the only thing on the market!" Quark pro-
tested. "You should see what I turned down to get this
beauty for youm"
"It'll do," O'Brien said. He was nodding to himself
and smiling faintly.
Kira gaped at him. "What?" she demanded. She
could barely believe what she'd just heard. "How can
you say that! This is a... a..." Words failed her.
She didn't know where to begin.
"Prize?" Quark suggested. "Bargain?"
"It's no prize," O'Brien said, "but it just might do.
If the systems check out, that is," he added hastily.
"I'll get back up here with a team in environment
suits to look everything over in half an hour." He
nodded toward the turbolift. "Come on, Major. Let's
talk to the captain about it."
Kira set her feet. "Are you insane?" she demanded.
She had no intention of accepting the ship. "It's a
disaster waiting to happen!"
; "Come on, Major," O'Brien said, still softly but
more intensely. He gave a jerk of his head toward the
lift. "Let's see the captain first, okay?"
She shrugged in despair. What was going through
O'Brien's mind? Either he had a plan or he really had
gone insane, she decided. If it was a plan, it had better
be a damn good one.
"All right," she said. "We'll talk to the captain."
O'Brien started for the lift, and Kira trailed after
him. How he could even suggest accepting this ship
was beyond her. She puzzled over it. More than once
she'd decided all humans were crazy, but there always
seemed to be a method to their madness. Even so,
O'Brien couldn't possibly accept such a pitiful excuse
for a ship... could he? He hadn't even checked out
the interior systems. Didn't he care about them?
Didn't he at least want an airtight hull?
"Another pair of satisfied customers," Kira over-
heard Quark saying proudly to Rom.
That did it. She whirled, leveling another piercing
glare at him. "Don't think this is over, Quark," she
called. "Captain Sisko still has to sign off on the
ship." And ifI have my way, she mentally added, Odo
will lock you up in that stinking hull for the rest of
your life for trying to cheat us. Let the punishment fit
the crime!
She hurried to join O'Brien in the turbolift. The
second the doors shut, she demanded, "Are you
insane? That ship--"
"Give me ten minutes at a comm station," he said,
"and I'll let you know."
CHAPTER
2
"Just ONE SMALL adjustment." Dr. Julian Bashir hid
his nervousness behind a studied expression of calm.
He flipped open the back panel of his new DNA
analyzer, which he'd designed and built with the help
of the station's computer. He bent down and peered
inside at the complex tangle of circuits and relays and
power couplings. What was wrong with it? It should
be working. He'd gone over it a hundred times
already, and every circuit checked out perfectly.
He glanced up at Captain Sisko. His commanding
officer was frowning with impatience. Sisko's new
beard and shaved head only emphasized that expres-
sion. Bashir swallowed. I'd better finish up in a hurry,
he thought. Sisko was a busy man, juggling the
Valtusian peace conference and a mission into the
Gamma Quadrant, and he didn't have time to waste.
Behind Sisko, Lieutenant Commander Worf and