Star Trek - DS9 - Heart Of The Warrior - Book 17

by John Gregory Betancourt

  Four of Odo's security guards arrived, panting a bit

  from sprinting, and Odo drew them aside, getting into

  position to cover the hatch unobtrusively. Hopefully

  it wouldn't be necessary, Sisko thought. Were the

  Valtusians ever coming out? How long would it take

  them to discuss the matter of being tested?

  Sisko glanced at a chronometer. Only three minutes

  had passed, he told himself. That wasn't long to wait.

  He had to be patient--diplomats moved at their own

  pace, after all, and he didn't want to get off on the

  wrong foot by pushing too hard.

  Suddenly the hatch rolled back and the three Valtu-

  sians emerged single file once more. Sisko frowned.

  What was that faint clicking sound? Ambassador

  Zhoshmat least Sisko thought it was Ambassador

  Zhosh--addressed him again.

  "We have discussed the matter," Zhosh said, "and

  we will allow your device to touch us. It may analyze

  our feet, which are among the least sacred parts of our

  body."

  Zhosh pulled up the hem of his flowing green robe,

  revealing a long, narrow green foot that ended in three

  clawed toes. A fourth and much broader claw jutted

  from its heel. The Valtusians walked balanced on the

  tips of the claws, Sisko realized, which explained the

  faint clicking he heard when they moved.

  "That will do nicely," Dr. Bashir said.

  He activated his DNA scanner and set it on the

  floor in front of Ambassador Zhosh. Sisko watched

  with interest as the Valtusian gave a birdlike hop

  forward and placed the flat middle part of its foot

  upon the box.

  "Reading," the scanner said. It paused for a long

  time--longer than it had with Worf, Dr. Bashir, or

  Odo. Sisko took a deep breath... had it broken

  down again? If so, Bashir would have a lot of explain-

  ing to do.

  But then the lights on its side flashed twice, and it

  said, "Subject DNA passed. Subject is Valtusian."

  Sisko smiled to hide his relief, thinking of the time

  on Earth when he'd mistaken his own father for a

  changeling. His father had refused to take a blood test

  being administered to the families of all Federation

  officials due to plain old-fashioned stubbornness,

  nothing more, and Sisko had learned a lesson that day

  about paranoia. You had to have limits. Life wasn't

  worth living if you couldn't trust anyone around you.

  He nodded a bit. No, there weren't any changelings

  here--just the private mysteries of an alien race. Dr.

  Bashir wouldn't have these body-taboo problems with

  the humans or Cardassians attending the conference,

  at least.

  "When are the other representatives scheduled to

  arrive?" Ambassador Zhosh asked, as Bashir ran the

  other two Valtusians through the test.

  "The Cardassian delegation should be here in a few

  hours," Sisko said. "The Maquis and the Federation

  ambassadors are scheduled to arrive tomorrow."

  "I have an itinerary prepared. We will begin in two

  days, at the ninth bell."

  "The ninth bell?" Sisko repeated.

  "That would be approximately eight-fifteen in the

  morning," Dr. Bashir said. The second ambassador

  passed the test. "The altusian calendar is quite

  interesting," he went on. "Their clocks use musical

  tones to indicate the time."

  Sisko felt his eyes starting to glaze over as Dr.

  Bashir began one of his endless lectures, this one on

  Valtusian clockwork mechanisms. He really shouM

  have gone into teaching, Sisko thought. The way he

  l ikes to talk, he wouM have made an excellent instruc-

  tor at the Academy. Then he reminded himself that

  he'd be losing one of the best doctors in Starfleet. He

  can always retire to teaching, he told himself.

  "Quite correct." Zhosh gazed at Bashir with one

  eye. "Have you visited altusia, Doctor?"

  "No, but my mother owns one of your clocks."

  The third Valtusian also passed the test. Odo's

  suspicions had proved unfounded, for once. No

  changelings here.

  "Ah." Ambassador Zhosh faced Sisko again. "If we

  could be shown to our quarters now?"

  "Certainly," he began, and then his badge chirped.

  "One second," he told Zhosh. He tapped his badge.

  "Sisko here."

  "I have a priority one transmission for you from

  Admiral Dulev," Dax said.

  "Thank you," Sisko said. "I'll be right there." He

  turned back to Ambassador Zhosh. "Constable Odo

  will have to show you to the habitat ring," he said. "If

  you need anything, don't hesitate to let him know."

  All three Valtusians bowed low to him. He returned

  the gesture, then hurried toward the turbolift.

  "This way," Odo said behind him, sounding faintly

  irritated that they hadn't turned out to be change-

  ling spies after all. "Right now we are in the third

  docking pylon," he said, beginning the standard tour

  of the station. "Your quarters will be in the habitat

  ring . . ."

  "Ops," Sisko said to the computer as he entered the

  turbolift. It whisked him down rapidly. Another

  transmission from Admiral Dulev... what could she

  want?

  CHAPTER

  4

  "ADMIRAL DULEV," SISKO said as her stern face ap-

  peared on his monitor. He couldn't recall ever seeing

  her smile.

  "Captain Sisko," she said, as usual cutting through

  all formalities, "you are to delay the mission to the

  Gamma Quadrant until the Excalibur gets there."

  "If I may ask," Sisko said, "why?"

  "My aide, Lieutenant Colfax, will be aboard the

  Excalibur. He will brief you and your people fully

  upon his arrival."

  "Very well," Sisko said, puzzled. "When is the

  Excalibur due?"

  "Thirty-two hours. If you have any questions,

  please address them to Lieutenant Colfax. Dulev

  out," she said, and the screen went blank.

  Sisko steepled his fingers thoughtfully. Thirty-two

  hours. Starbase 201, where he'd met with the admiral

  and Colfax, lay sixteen hours away which meant the

  Excalibur either hadn't arrived yet or had another

  stop to make before coming to DS9. At least the extra

  time would give them a chance to better prepare for

  the mission into the Gamma Quadrant. The peace

  conference should already be underway by then. Per-

  haps it would be less of a juggling act than he thought.

  He could certainly use the extra help Odo would

  provide when the Cardassian delegation arrived.

  Cardassians on the station always meant trouble, he

  knew... not that they themselves posed a threat to

  DS9's security. If anything, they tended toward model

  behavior while visiting. The problems always came

  from Bajorans, with their endless protests and picket-

  ing and threats of violence against any and all Cardas-

  sians they deemed war criminals.

  He felt a slight headache beginning, and he for
ced

  himself to stretch and focus his eyes on the far wall.

  Too much work, too much stress--he'd better not let

  Dr. Bashir find out, or he'd find himself in a holosuite

  on forced R and R despite the importance of every-

  thing going on around him.

  He picked up the baseball he kept on his desk and

  gripped it in his strong right hand. The tension of

  dealing with two high-priority missions simultane-

  ously was starting to get to him, he thought. He

  needed to unwind. Perhaps a half hour game of catch

  with his son Jake, or in a holosuite with the 2106

  Brooklyn Dodgers... a scenario he'd been working

  on for some weeks now. The Cardassians weren't due

  yet, the Valtusians were safely in their quarters, and

  the Excalibur wouldn't arrive for thirty-two hours.

  He'd have enough time, wouldn't he?

  The door to his office chirped. Sighing, he put the

  baseball back on its little stand. No rest for a weary

  captain, he thought. "Come," he called.

  Lieutenant Jadzia Dax stepped in. Behind her he

  could see Major Kira and Chief O'Brien. "Benja-

  min," Dax said, "if you have a minute..."

  "Of course," he said, leaning back in his chair.

  "What is it, Dax? A problem with Quark's ship?"

  "Have you been looking over my shoulder?" she

  asked with a faint smile.

  "I expected it, actually," Sisko said. "What do you

  think, Chief?. Will it do?"

  "It's a death trap," O'Brien said.

  "That doesn't sound very promising." But probably

  what I shouM have expected, he mentally added. They

  might have to use a runabout after all.

  "It gets better," Dax said. "Quark has already

  billed us for two hundred and fifty bars of gold-

  pressed latinum."

  "Outrageous," Sisko agreed, shaking his head. Still,

  what could he expect from a Ferengi?

  "But here's the thing, sir," O'Brien said, leaning

  forward. "It's a Delphi-class ship, just like the one the

  pilgrims from Arvanus Six abandoned on the seventh

  Bajoran moon. The pilgrims' ship has already been

  claimed for salvage by a Bajoran company, but they

  haven't picked it up yet."

  "I've made a few inquiries of my own," Kira added.

  "We can have the pilgrim ship's hull for twenty-

  two bars of latinum. All it needs are new warp en-

  gines..."

  "And Quark's ship has those," O'Brien finished.

  Sisko looked at Dax. "What do you think?" he

  asked her.

  She shook her head a fraction. "I think it's risky.

  We have one day to put together a working starship.

  That would be hard under the best of circumstances.

  But I don't see a better alternative."

  "I have good news on that front," Sisko said.

  "Admiral Dulev wants the mission delayed until the

  Excalibur gets here. That gives us at least thirty-two

  hours."

  "Is the Excalibur coming with us?" Kira asked.

  "The admiral wasn't clear on that point," Sisko

  said. "I would assume not, though. So, what do you

  think, Chief? Can you put together a working ship for

  us in thirty-two hours?"

  "Oh, we can do it." O'Brien nodded. "For once,

  I've got every system on DS9 functioning within

  acceptable parameters. It's taken me three years, but

  it's finally happened. I can put every man I have on

  refitting the warp engines. Delphi-class ships are

  completely modular in design, so it shouldn't be too

  hard. My original estimate was six hours, and I still

  think it can be done that quickly. The extra time will

  give us a chance to make a few shakedown flights and

  run full diagnostics."

  "Excellent." Sisko considered the options. If

  O'Brien said he could make a working ship out of the

  two, Sisko knew he could rely on him to deliver. Their

  three years here together had proved his chief engi-

  neer's competence time and again. Still, putting to-

  gether a fix-up ship had its own risks. You never knew

  quite what you were getting with a used starship...

  let alone two of them. Systems might fail suddenly, or

  there might be slight design variations between them

  if they were built in different years.

  Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much

  choice. They needed a civilian ship, and there just

  weren't any available through regular channels on

  such short notice. He began to nod. It seemed Admir-

  al Dulev's delay was in fact a godsend.

  "Very well," he said, "get on it... as soon as I

  finish with Quark."

  "Two hundred and fifty bars of gold-pressed

  latinum is an outrageous price for a ship in that

  condition," Dax said.

  "What's fair?" Sisko asked, looking at O'Brien. He

  would know, if anyone did aboard DS9, because he

  kept close tabs on the used equipment market. "A

  hundred?"

  "I'd say fifty," O'Brien said, "if that. It needs a lot

  of work."

  Kira said, "Security has been keeping Quark under

  surveillance. Why don't you ask Odo what Quark

  paid for it?"

  "An excellent suggestion, Major," Sisko said. I

  must be slipping, he thought. I shouM have thought of

  that myself He activated the communications console

  on his desk, and a second later Odo's smooth, nearly

  featureless face appeared on the viewscreen.

  "Yes, Captain?" Odo asked, sounding faintly an-

  noyed. Sisko hid his smile. Everything seemed to

  faintly annoy Odo.

  "Did you get the Valtusian ambassadors settled

  into their suite?" he asked.

  "Yes." He sounded more annoyed than ever. "Was

  there anyhing else?"

  "By any chance, can you tell me what Quark paid

  for that ship he just bought?"

  "The Galactic Queen--if you can call that mess a

  ship?" Odo gave a snort. "He didn't pay anything for

  it. Two Andorians paid him to take it off their hands.

  Repairs would cost more that it's worth, and the

  owners couldn't even afford the station's docking fees.

  Quark promised to handle everything for them, in-

  cluding the disposal of their ship, for two bars of gold-

  pressed latinurn."

  Sisko had to laugh. "Leave it to Quark to try to

  make a profit on every side of a deal," he said.

  "I don't find that particularly amusing," Odo said.

  "Am I missing something, sir?"

  "Not really. Thank you, Constable. Keep up the

  good work." He shut off the viewscreen. "Well," he

  said to Dax and the others, "that certainly gives us a

  lot of bargaining room."

  Kira folded her arms. "I say we let him keep the

  ship. We can still take a runabout."

  "I wouldn't object if you weren't going to a planet

  with a Jem'Hadar base," Sisko said. "Taking a Feder-

  ation vessel is simply too risky. Besides, I think

  Quark's ship will work out, as soon as negotiations

  are over."

  He turned again to his communications console.

  "Quark," he said, and
a second later an image ap-

  peared on the viewscreen before him Quark in his

  bar, the babble of happy crowds creating a pleasant

  background noise. Cheers came from one of the

  gambling tables, followed by cr ies of "Dabo!"

  "Captain Sisko!" Quark said. He was wiping a glass

  clean. "This is an unexpected surprise. I take it Chief

  O'Brien has relayed the good news about the ship I

  found?"

  "It is unacceptable," Sisko said, clipping his words

  to emphasize how seriously he took the matter. "We

  have had to make other arrangements, Quark. I'm

  very disappointed in you."

  "What!" The shock was apparent on Quark's face.

  Sisko felt a sudden pang of sympathy, but forced it

  down. You had to play hardball with Ferengis during

  negotiations, as the old saying went. They'd walk all

  over you if you didn't.

  "I'm sorry things didn't work out," he went on. "rll

  let you know if we have any more needs." He discon-

  nected, and Quark's face disappeared.

  Smiling, Sisko leaned back in his seat and looked at

  his officers. "Bets?" he asked, taking a glance at the

  chronometer.

  "Ten seconds," O'Brien said instantly.

  "Ten? You're crazy," Kira said. "Eight."

  "It'll take him that long just to stop shaking," Dax

  said. "Twelve, at least."

  "I'll take fifteen," Sisko said.

  The seconds ticked away. Eight... ten... and at

  twelve seconds exactly the communicator chirped.

  "I believe you three owe me dinner," Dax said

  triumphantly.

  Before Sisko could touch the controls, Quark's face

  appeared on the viewscreen. Sisko frowned, a trifle

  annoyed. The security devices in Ops and his private

  office shouldn't let calls through to him like that.

  Quark must have a security key. He made a mental

  note to have Odo confiscate it.

  "Quark," Sisko said, trying to keep his tone even

  and pleasant. "What can I do for you?" "About this ship--"

  "It won't do. I thought we settled that."

  "If it's a matter of price, I am open to reasonable

  counteroffers."

  Sisko shook his head. "As I told you, time is of the

  essence here. Chief O'Brien informs me that it will

  take all of his people two days working around the

  clock to get that ship put back into working order. I

  simply cannot spare him at this time, with the peace

  conference coming up, so I have been forced to make

  other arrangements. Luckily I managed to find an

  alternate ship through an old friend of mine. It will