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

by John Gregory Betancourt

  his chest. He tried to suck in a deep lungful of air, but

  nothing happened.

  "Kiram" he tried to say, but nothing came out. He

  could only gaze up at her with growing panic.

  Then he felt his arms and legs moving on their own,

  shaking crazily, and his whole body began to con-

  valse.

  It was a short trip to Camalia VIII, Odo found, and

  Auron and Selann made pleasant if innocuous (per-

  haps too innocuous, Odo thought darkly) conversa-

  tion along the way. He found himself growing a little

  bored with their chatter about the weather on planets

  he'd never visited and about people he'd never met.

  At last, though, the planet came into sight through

  the front viewport. Odo moved forward to see better.

  It was the same planet on the hologram in the center

  of the cabin, he realized, and he felt a growing sense of

  excitement. Was this the new changeling home? If so,

  the Federation would need to know its location.

  Almost as if reading his thoughts, Selann came up

  behind him and said, "We have a small outpost here,

  with few of the comforts of home."

  "And where is home?" Odo said.

  "With us." Selann smiled faintly. "You don't be-

  long with the Federation, Odo. You know that deep

  inside."

  "Perhaps," he murmured. He wasn't willing to give

  them any more encouragement than that, he decided.

  If he appeared too eager, they might catch on that he

  was hiding something. He'd only been off the

  Jem'Hadar ship for a few hours; Kira and Worf

  wouldn't have had time to do much of anything yet.

  The pilots brought the ship down to a soft landing.

  Auron crossed to the hatch, opened it, and a sudden

  flood of deep amber sunlight entered the cabin. Odo

  followed Selann down the ramp.

  They had landed in a cleared field, he saw. Thirty or

  so small white domes clustered to the far left, amid

  twisted treelike plants whose crowns held streamers

  of red flowers. A series of broad pebble paths threaded

  their way among the domes. He could see a number of

  changelings walking about over there, and he sus-

  pected that several of the trees might be changelings

  as well. He couldn't say what sixth sense told him; he

  just knew.

  "Carnalia VIII," Auron said softly from behind

  him. "Stay with us here, Odo. Learn to use the power

  and influence that is your birthright."

  "It's... tempting," he admitted. And it was.

  When he thought about all his people had accore-

  plished, when he thought about the proud place they

  had made for themselves, he couldn't help but won-

  der what it would be like to join them.

  Then he forced himself to back away from those

  thoughts. The changelings had accomplished a lot,

  but at too high a price, he thought. They had virtually

  enslaved an entire quadrant of the galaxy. That went

  against everything he knew to be right and good. He

  could never be a part of it. Never.

  Selann smiled as they continued down the path to

  the domes. "This will be yours," he said, pointing to

  the third one.

  The building had no door, Odo saw, just a large

  round opening in one side. He ducked through

  and caught his breath in amazement as he stared

  at the strange assortment of objects before him.

  Oddly shaped sculptures... intricate pottery...

  weathered stones... pieces of driftwood. No human-

  oid would like this dome, he thought, turning slowly

  to gaze in wonder at everything around him, but for a

  changeling it had a luxurious feel. On some level each

  of these objects called to him, asking him to emulate

  them.

  "All this for me," he murmured.

  "Yes," Selann said. "All this for you, Odo. You are

  one of us. You belong here. Join with me, Odo. Feel

  what it is to truly belong."

  He opened his arms to Odo, and Odo came to him.

  There was no way back to the Federation from here,

  no way to help Worf and Kira for the moment, so why

  not? He had joined with changelings before, when

  he'd visited their Homeworld, and it had been one of

  the most incredible sensations of his life. The nearest

  thing he could compare it to was sex among the solids,

  but it wasn't like that. It was... spiritual, he decided.

  A joining of minds, a melding of thoughts and souls, a

  surrender to a larger universe. You lost your individu-

  ality and became part of something greater than

  yourself.

  As he watched his hands shifting, becoming golden,

  luminous, and liquid--as he felt his body merging

  with Selann's--his last thoughts were that he had

  indeed come home.

  CHAPTER

  14

  KIRA FLIPPED WORF over onto his back and put her

  hands on his chest, trying to push him down. His

  whole body strained violently, almost knocking her

  off, and his arms and legs thrashed against the floor.

  Foam began to pour from his mouth and nostrils, and

  a weird pathetic wheeze came from his chest.

  "Easy," she murmured, still pressing him down.

  "Easy, Worf."

  His teeth clenched. He gave a low moan and

  relaxed, and for a second she thought the worst might

  be over. Then he began to buck again, moaning, his

  eyes rolling back in his head.

  Finally his convulsions slowed, then stopped com-

  pletely. Gasping for air, he lay still. Every few sec-

  onds, his legs or arms gave faint spasmodic twitches.

  Was he dying? Kira bit her lip, then leaned forward

  and put her head to his chest. His massive heart

  pounded wildly, but the beat seemed erratic to her.

  She sat back on her heels, trying to think. Battlefield

  medicine didn't cover situations like this one. If only

  Bashir were here. Should she try to get him to drink

  something? Or would that only make things worse?

  Suddenly he gasped and opened his eyes. The

  pupils were bigger than she'd ever seen them before,

  and they were shot through with red lines.

  "Worf?" she said. He didn't seem able to focus on

  her, though. "Can you hear me? It's Kira. How do you

  feel?"

  "The corridor..." he whispered.

  "What about it?"

  "It is spinning..."

  He raised one hand to his head. For a second he

  tried to sit up, but then he slumped to the side. He

  couldn't even lift his own weight, Kira realized with

  dismay. How was she going to get him down to

  Daborat V in this condition?

  Carefully she eased her pack under his head for a

  pillow and dabbed at the foam around his mouth. The

  best thing she could do for him, she decided, was wait

  and hope for the best.

  "Rest," she said softly. "I'm going to reconnoiter

  and see what I can find. Just as soon as I take care of

  our little friend here, that is."

  Quickly she pulled a length of cord from her pack

  and tied u
p the little alien. He was still unconscious

  from the phaser stun, snoring loudly. Up close, he

  didn't seem very dangerous looking, but those tiny

  needlelike fangs and their venom had certainly done

  their work on Worf.

  Was it part of the ship's crew? Searching its pockets,

  she found a brass ring, a few datachips, and some

  scraps of paper; all were dusty, battered, and looked

  like they had been lost for quite a while before being

  scavenged. No, she decided, the little alien couldn't

  possibly be a crewman... more like a mascot or a

  pet. If the Jem'Hadar kept pets, which seemed doubt-

  ful. Was it sentient? It had on a simple tunic, but that

  didn't mean much. They wouldn't know until it

  regained consciousness. Hopefully, whatever it was, it

  wouldn't be missed right away.

  "Water," Worf said hoarsely.

  She dug out a canteen and gave him a sip. Maybe

  that would help.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  "Weak," he said. His voice was barely a whisper.

  "Help me sit up."

  She carefully pulled him forward, then had him

  lean back against the wall. He had bloodstains on his

  tunic, she saw. Peeling it back at the shoulder, she

  found the two puncture marks which were still seep-

  ing red. Hard to believe, but those two tiny wounds

  had almost killed him.

  "It seems he had some nasty venom in his fangs,"

  Kira said. She pulled bandages from her pack and

  dressed the wounds.

  "Fortunately," Worf said, voice stronger now,

  sounding more like his old self, "the effects do not

  appear long lasting on Klingons."

  "Then I'll leave you to watch him and rest," Kira

  said. "I want to look down some of the tunnels. If

  we're going to be trapped here for a while, we're going

  to need to know the layout of the ship."

  Worf nodded, wincing a little.

  "I'll be back soon," she promised.

  Rising, she turned and walked quickly back to the

  large tunnel that led to the storage closet. It amazed

  her how long and high they were. The access corridors

  seemed to r un through the whole ship.

  She explored, mentally mapping the place in her

  mind. Several times she came to ventilation ducts,

  and each time she peeked through. Once she saw

  several Jem'Hadar lying on rows of hard-looking

  bunks. Other times she saw empty rooms, or store-

  rooms filled with crates.

  She kept going and eventually came to the ship's

  gailey. Through the ventilation holes, she could see

  long metal tables and benches. They seemed to be in

  the middle of a meal shift now; the benches were

  crowded with every species but Jem'Hadar, all eating

  what looked like nearly raw meat and some kind of

  vegetable stew. The Jem'Hadar didn't eat, she re-

  minded herself, so there would be plenty of real food

  available. Perhaps they'd be able to sneak in during an

  off-shift; fresh supplies would make a good supple-

  ment to their protein bars, which they should hold for

  emergencies.

  She checked the time. She'd been gone nearly an

  hour--time to get back to Worf. She didn't want to

  leave him too long in his weakened state in case any

  more of those savage little aliens showed up. He'd

  lived through one bite, but she didn't want to risk any

  more.

  Retracing her steps, she neared to the corridor

  where she'd left Worf. Then from ahead she heard

  low voices. That could only mean trouble, she

  thought, drawing her phaser. If the Jem'Hadar had

  found Worf... she didn't want to think what it

  would mean. They weren't exactly known for their

  mercy or their compassion.

  She crept forward cautiously, placing each foot

  carefully. As silent as Death, she peeked around the

  corrler.

  It was Worf talking to the little alien, she saw. Woff

  had untied their captive, and now the two of them sat

  facing each other. She relaxed and felt the tension

  drain from her shoulders. It seemed the alien was

  sentient after all.

  "Major," Worf said, "I want you to meet Snoct

  Sneyd. He'd an Iffalian. Snoct, this is Major Kira."

  "Hello," she said cautiously.

  "Hello, Major Kira," Snoct said back, head cocked

  to one side in what might have been an almost

  comical manner in different circumstances.

  "It seems I scared him when he stumbled upon us,"

  Worf said. "He was part of a cleaning crew the last

  time this ship was serviced--"

  "Six long months ago!" Snoct said.

  "--and he fell asleep in our closet after a long shift.

  When he woke up, they were already in space."

  "The Jem'Hadar have been trying to catch me ever

  since," Snoct said, "only I escaped."

  "What do you mean, trying to catch you?" Kira

  asked. That didn't make much sense to her. "How

  could you elude the Jem'Hadar aboard their own

  ship?"

  "I think it is a game to them," Snoct said. "They

  hold hunts for me, using primitive weapons like nets

  and spears."

  "Have they never caught you?" Worf demanded.

  "Once," Snoct admitted.

  "What happened?"

  "They let me escape."

  "They let you escape?" Worf's knobby forehead

  furrowed.

  "That makes sense," Kira said. "If it's a game to

  them, why let the fun end?"

  "Because when the prey is caught, the game is

  over," Worf said.

  "Haven't you ever wanted a game to keep going

  once it ended?"

  "No," Worf said. "That would defeat the purpose

  of a game, which is victory."

  Kira shook her head. Sometimes Worf just didn't

  understand. To Snoct, she said, "Do you know when

  this ship is due to visit Daborat V again?"

  "I don't know," Snoct said.

  "Can you take a guess?"

  He mewed plaintively. "It could happen any time

  now. Today, next week, or six months from now. They

  don't confide in me, after all. I just hope it's soon. If

  they dock at any space station for servicing, I'll finally

  be able to escape!"

  Without warning, a strange sound echoed through

  the corridors--a low, almost inaudible drumbeat,

  thumping just this side of subsonic. Kira felt the hair

  on the back of her neck start to bristle. Then came a

  drawn-out wail like the cry of someone being disem-

  boweled.

  Snoct let out a low moan.

  "What's that noise?" Worf demanded, leaping to

  his feet. He balanced himself against the wall with one

  hand. He hadn't completely recovered from the ef-

  fects of Snoct's bite, Kira realized.

  "The Jem'Hadar have begun their hunt again," the

  little alien said with a shudder. "We must flee!"

  CHAPTER

  15

  S^r,N, Ot)o PULLEt) himself away from Selann and

  reassumed his own humanoid form. He had never

  known such peace, such tranquillity, as the
first time

  he had joined with another changeling. It had left him

  weak from euphoria, almost giddy.

  But this time it had been different. This time it

  hadn't been so novel, and he had been able to sense

  Selann's thoughts as they drifted between their collec-

  tive consciousness... thoughts that bewildered and

  at times enraged him.

  Thoughts of peace through conquest.

  Thoughts of bending lesser races to his will.

  Thoughts of a great destiny for their people and a

  vision of the future which Odo did not believe in--or

  want to share nothing less than the conquest of the

  entire galaxy.

  He took a step back, then another, then a third.

  All he wanted to do was separate himself from

  Selann, to put as much distance between them as he

  could.

  Selann regarded him solemnly from the other side

  of the room. "Odo--" he said.

  "Leave me!" Odo cried. "I cannot face your

  thoughts!"

  Silently, Selann left the dome. Odo gazed at the

  statues and the driftwood, at the rocks and the

  pottery assembled around him. He no longer felt

  like emulating any of it. He just wanted to go

  home.

  He heard a light step behind him and whirled. Had

  Selann returned? No, he saw, Auron had appeared in

  the doorway.

  "Come with me, Odo," the changeling said softly.

  Odo didn't know why, but he obeyed. He walked

  out with Auron onto the curving pebble path, and

  they passed in silence between the domes, through

  the trees, then onto a beach covered in glistening

  black sand. Low waves lapped at their feet, and the

  air held a faint tang of salt and brine. Far across the

  water, two huge orange suns sank toward the ho-

  rizon.

  "You are still not happy among us," Auron said, as

  they gazed into the distance side by side.

  "I'm sorry," Odo said. "I cannot accept what

  you're doing. It isn't right--"

  "Do not apologize," Auron said. "You are still

  young, Odo. You have not seen all the horrors of the

  universe. You do not understand why we must stand

  united against the solids. But you will, Odo, in time.

  We are a very ancient and very patient race. We will

  wait for you to change, to see things as we do."

  "It's just that my heart tells me all of this is

  wrong," Odo said. "Why can't all sentient life-forms

  find nonaggressive ways to live in peace everywhere