Malic went to an intercom. “What is it, Vincam?”
“The gateways just came back online. They were only down for about ten minutes. As far as Loga can tell, they just seemed to reboot.”
“Very well.”
“There’s more. We’ve been monitoring the Iconian ship. They’ve been doing the exact same thing we’ve been doing—examining it with sensors. And they’ve been in constant contact with the two in the conference room.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“Yes,” Vincam said, and Malic could hear the pride in the younger man’s voice, “but we finally were able to break their code.”
For the first time in several days, Malic smiled.
“Kam, the gateways are back online.”
“Good work.”
“It wasn’t my work! I think they just rebooted and came back online.”
“We’ll take what we can get. The Orion is suspicious of us. We have to inform him that this was our intention all along.”
“How you coming along with that code, Ychell?”
Ro asked the question as she maneuvered the fighter through the asteroid belt. Already a skilled pilot, she had learned every trick in the book for evading capture during her time with the Maquis—and, in fact, had taught them a few tricks before the Jem’Hadar all but wiped them out.
Memories of a raid on a Cardassian supply depot came unbidden to Ro—piloting that ancient crate that was called the Zelbinion for reasons no one in her cell could adequately explain. They had been chased into an asteroid belt then, too, the depot’s guard ships flying around in a standard search pattern while Ro kept the Zelbinion out of their sensor field.
That in turn led to another memory, of piloting another ship—one that didn’t even have a name— through a field of antimatter mines laid by the Jem’Hadar en route to Osborne’s World. They lost a lot of good people on that mission. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Jalik’s sacrifice, they all would have died . . .
Ychell suddenly spoke, forcing her to put those bad memories aside. “I don’t think I can do it, Lieutenant,” she said.
“You need a code broken?”
Ro looked back briefly to see that Quark had moved to stand between the pilot and copilot seats, then turned back to her console as she said, “Quark, get back in the rear.”
“I need something to do, Laren. Besides, I’m an expert codebreaker.”
Ychell made a dismissive noise. “Expert? I spent most of my time in the resistance cracking Cardassian codes.”
Quark waved a hand dismissively. “Any idiot can crack Cardassian codes.”
Before Ychell could respond, Ro said, “Sergeant, let him have a shot at it. We’ve got nothing to lose, and I’d really like to know what’s in all the com traffic we’re picking up.”
Glowering at Ro, Ychell said, “Fine. I’m transferring access to the com systems to the aft panel.” With a sneer at Quark, she said, “Have a party, Ferengi.”
Quark gave her an equally mocking smile back and went back to the aft compartment.
“Why do you allow him such familiarity? Hell, why do you let him stay in business? He worked for the Cardassians—and for the Dominion when they took over.”
“You should know better, Ychell. He was part of the resistance movement that kicked the Dominion off the station,” Ro said as she maneuvered around one particularly large asteroid. Sensors said it had a high enough magnetic content that it should confuse the hell out of the Orions. “And his bar serves an important social function.”
“If you say so. I never went much for the type of socializing that goes on in those establishments.” She checked her console. “I’m picking up two Orion pursuit ships nearby—the others are still outside the asteroid belt.”
Ro studied the sensor readings. “Well, if they’ve found us, they’re hiding it well. That’s a pretty standard search pattern. We ought to be okay here for a few more minutes at least.”
“I broke the code!” came a triumphant voice from the rear of the fighter.
Ychell whirled around. “What!? That’s not possible!”
“Let me rephrase,” Quark said as he bounded triumphantly back to the fore. “I broke one of the codes. That’s why you were having trouble, Sergeant, there were two different codes there—the Orions’ and the Iconians’.”
“Which one did you break, the Orions’?”
“No,” Quark said, to Ro’s surprise, “the Iconians’. You should be getting a translation of the last five minutes’worth of com traffic on your panel, Sergeant.”
Ychell looked down. “Looks like it, yes. It—” Her eyes went wide. “Interesting.”
“What?” Ro asked.
“If I’m reading this right, Lieutenant, these aren’t the Iconians at all.”
Ro repeated, “What!?”
“They’re still transmitting—I’ll put it on audio.”
“You’re lying.”
Kam had just spent several minutes explaining what had happened to the gateways, that it was a simple maintenance cycle, and Malic’s reaction had been those two words.
He stood between Werd and Snikwah in the conference room. The bodyguards had their disruptors trained on the two Iconians and the Ferengi, who were now all standing against the wall together. The Iconians looked as unconcerned as ever, but Gaila seemed a bit panicky.
“I don’t think you even were the ones who opened the gateways,” Malic continued. “I think this was all part of an elaborate plot on the part of the two Ferengi, the Bajoran Militia, and perhaps Starfleet to undermine the Orion Syndicate. Well, your accomplices will be captured soon enough.” They had better be, at least, he thought, remembering his stolen padd. “And we have our weapons trained on your ship.”
“There’s no need for these hostilities,” Gaila said. Malic could hear the Ferengi attempt to keep his voice calm, but he was failing. “We can discuss this like rational beings.”
Malic snorted. “The time for discussion is over. It’s obvious that you withheld intelligence on the gateways, not as a bargaining tactic, but because you didn’t have that intelligence. It’s also obvious that you didn’t know about the gap in the gateway lattice in the Bajoran sector—otherwise you wouldn’t have dispatched a ship there as soon as we brought it up. And it’s equally obvious that you have no idea why the gateways went offline, nor why they came back online. You’ve lied to us. The syndicate doesn’t appreciate being made fools.”
“We haven’t made fools of you!” Gaila said quickly. “It was Quark! He made fools of all of us! He’s a crafty one, my cousin. But I can assure you—”
“Be silent, Ferengi. I have learned the hard way not to trust the mouthings of anyone from your wretched species.” He turned to the Iconians—or whatever they truly were. “Well, Kam? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”
Kam simply regarded Malic with the same calm expression that never seemed to leave the alien’s face. “Are you familiar with subvocal communication?”
Frowning, Malic said, “No.”
“We perfected it some time ago. I have been in constant communication with my ship while we have been speaking. They have armed their weapons. You will allow us safe passage back to our ship and then allow us to leave the Farius system, or we will destroy you.”
Malic didn’t need a century of experience in business to know when someone was talking a better game than they could truly play. “Don’t be fooled by the fact that this vessel was constructed by pacifists, Kam. It is more than armed enough to eliminate your ship.” He turned to Werd and Snikwah. “Kill them all.”
Then the lights went dead.
The darkness was short-lived, as the room was lit by a rather spectacular explosion from one of the walls. Malic heard someone scream, but he couldn’t tell if it was the Ferengi, one of his own people, or one of the aliens.
Vincam’s voice sounded over the speakers. “We’re under attack!”
“We’ve got to save Gaila.”
&nb
sp; Ro turned in surprise at Quark’s statement. “I beg your pardon?”
“He’s still on that ship,” Quark said, pointing to Ro’s tactical display. “The Orions and the Iconians— or whoever they are—”
“They’re called the Petraw,” Ychell put in, “based on these coms we’ve been intercepting.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Quark said, “They can kill each other for all I care, but we have to save Gaila.”
“Not that I disagree with the sentiment or anything, Quark,” Ro said, “but why this sudden outburst of compassion? Gaila was the one who betrayed you in there.”
Quark just shrugged. “That was just business. He’s still family.”
“Isn’t there a Rule about how family should be exploited?”
Smiling, Quark said, “And how am I supposed to do that if he’s dead?”
“Lieutenant,” Ychell said, “the pursuit ships are breaking off—they’re heading back toward Malic’s ship. Probably to help out against the Petraw. That firefight is getting worse. Both ships have taken heavy damage.”
Ro looked down at her own console. As it happened, the most direct course from their current position in the asteroid belt to the gateway—which had gone back online only ten minutes after shutting down—involved going straight through the battle between the Petraw and the Orions. The only way to go fast enough to escape their notice would be to go in a straight line at near-lightspeed. So that works out fairly nicely anyhow . . .
“Sergeant, can this crate do a near-warp transport?”
Ychell whirled toward Ro. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m dead serious.”
Snorting, Ychell said, “Bad choice of words, Lieutenant.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose it’s possible, but I’ve never done it.”
“I have,” Ro said confidently. Of course, that was on the Enterprise —a top-of-the-line Starfleet ship that was designed for those kinds of maneuvers. In fact, the operation had been performed at least once before she’d signed on. In addition, back then she’d been working in concert with Miles O’Brien, an expert in transporter technology.
She set the course she’d need to take in order to make this work. I just hope the gateway doesn’t wink out on us again. “Can you get an accurate life-form reading from the Orion ship?”
Ychell nodded. “Scanning for Ferengi life-forms now.” A pause. “Got him.”
“Good,” Quark said, “let’s move while he’s still alive.”
Without looking up, Ro said, “Quark, get back aft. The ride’s gonna be a little bumpy. You and Treir need to strap in.”
Quark didn’t look terrifically pleased by the notion of a bumpy ride, but said nothing as he moved back aft.
“Course set,” Ro said and looked over at Ychell.
“Transporter standing by.”
Ro took a deep breath, and remembered something one of her Academy instructors always said right before flight simulations. “Here goes nothin’.”
Gaila ran.
He had no idea where he was running to, but he thought remaining in a dark room waiting for one of the two moon-sized Orions to shoot him was not in his best interests. So he made a dash for where he remembered the door being, was favored by that door opening at his approach, and proceeded to run down the hallways, which were now lit only by green emergency lights.
Escape pods, he thought. That’s what I want. They have to have them here. No self-respecting Vulcan would build a ship without escape pods. Wouldn’t be logical.
Gaila did not allow himself to think that getting rid of them might have been one of the (several) modifications Malic had made to the ship.
This is all your fault, Quark. Every time I turn around, you’re there to thwart me.
A small voice in the back of Gaila’s head reminded him that it was Gaila’s own actions that led to this particular state of affairs, in his attempt to take his revenge for Quark’s indignities. After all, if it hadn’t been for Quark, Gaila would still own a moon. But if it hadn’t been for Gaila, the Orion ship probably wouldn’t be falling apart around him right now.
And then there’s the Iconians. If they really are the Iconians. Not only did I break the Sixth Rule to get revenge on Quark, it’s looking like I broke the the Ninety-Fourth as well. Cost me a perfectly good client, too.
Or maybe not so perfectly good, if Malic’s suspicions were right. Frankly, Gaila didn’t really care much one way or the other if they really were the Iconians or not. They’d paid him half up front, and that— along with most of the other seven bars of latinum he’d gotten from Zek—was safe in a despository. All I need to do is live to get off this ship, and everything will be fine. I’ll live without the rest of Kam’s fee. I won’t live if I stay here any longer.
He turned a corner to see a male Orion who looked like he’d been worked over by a particularly cranky Klingon standing there.
Regarding him with two eyes that were halfswollen shut, the Orion asked through his split lip, “What’re you doing here?”
“Trying to find the escape pods. Didn’t you hear the order to abandon ship?” The first sentence was truthful, the second somewhat less so.
“Abandon ship?” The Orion started to quiver. Gaila supposed his eyes might have widened in shock if they weren’t so swollen. “No, I didn’t hear that!
Follow me, the escape pods are this way.”
Gaila smiled. That’s more like it.
As they moved as one toward a turbolift, a voice from behind Gaila cried, “There he is! Good work, Alhan.”
It sounded like one of Malic’s bodyguards. Damn, Gaila thought. Almost made it.
He turned around and saw that it was indeed one of Malic’s two mountains. He was aiming his disruptor right at Gaila’s head.
So this is it, he thought. I’m going to die.
Then, suddenly, Gaila found himself looking down at the bodyguard from what felt like inside the ceiling.
That rather bizarre sensation only lasted an instant. Then the world dissolved into a confused mess before coalescing into the very face Gaila had imagined himself punching repeatedly only moments before.
“Quark.”
“Good to see you too, Gaila.”
He looked around to see that he and Quark, along with a Bajoran sergeant, an Orion slave girl, and Quark’s dabo girl—who was a brunette now—were crammed into the flight deck of a Bajoran Militia flitter. “Where are we?”
“A Bajoran Militia flitter,” Quark said.
“I know it’s a Bajoran Militia flitter,” Gaila said impatiently. “I mean where?”
“On our way to the Clarus system, and then to DS9. Oh and Gaila?”
“What?”
“You’re welcome.”
Gaila’s stomach hadn’t felt this unsettled since the last time he had to eat cooked food in order to suck up to a potential client. He looked past Quark’s selfsatisfied smile to the viewscreen to see that they were indeed heading to the gateway in this system—which would take them to Clarus.
The Bajoran sergeant spoke up. “The Orion ship’s shields just went down. The Petraw are firing again.”
Then she touched a control and the image on the viewscreen changed to an aft view, showing the small ship commanded by Kam doing as the sergeant had indicated.
“Petraw?” Gaila asked.
Quark’s oh-so-smug smile widened. “You mean you didn’t know that you weren’t working for the Iconians? Well, I’m surprised, Gaila. These Petraw were running such a weak scam that I thought for sure you’d be involved.”
“Very funny, Quark. Their latinum was good enough regardless of—”
Gaila was interrupted by the rather impressive sight of Malic’s ship exploding in a fiery conflagration.
“Well, if Malic did have a backup of that padd, it’s gone now.”
“Any sign of the Petraw ship?” the erstwhile dabo girl asked the sergeant.
“Negative. They could’ve warped out under cover of the explosion.�
�� The sergeant then looked up. “ Entering the gateway now.”
As usual, there was no real sensation of travel. Unlike wormholes or transporters or warp drive or any other method of getting somewhere fast, the Iconians had built their portals with a minimum of bells and whistles. One moment they were in the Farius system, the next they were in the Clarus system. No disorientation, no disruption of the very air, just a simple movement from one place to the next.
“Set course for DS9,” the dabo girl said, holding up a padd. “I want to get to work on cracking this thing.” Gaila realized after a moment that it was Malic’s padd, thus explaining Quark’s comment about a backup.
He then looked at his most hated cousin, who still hadn’t lost the smug smile. “You saved my life.”
“Looks like I did, yeah.” Quark put his hand on Gaila’s shoulder. Gaila looked at it with all the disdain he could muster—which right now was considerable— but Quark did not remove it. “Don’t worry, Gaila. I promise not to ask for too much to settle the debt.”
“And you have Malic’s padd.”
“Mhm. All in all, it’s been a good day for me.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Gaila said, taking a seat next to the Orion slave woman—who had been watching the exchanges between Gaila and his cousin with a level of amusement that Gaila found inappropriate in a female—“you can drop me off at Clarus IX. I have no interest in accompanying you to that wretched station.”
The dabo girl turned and smiled in a way that Gaila hated even more than he hated Quark’s. “This isn’t a ferry service, Gaila. We’re heading to DS9, so that’s where you’re heading. If you have a problem with that, we can always send you back where we found you.”
“Look—” Gaila started, but Quark interrupted him.
“I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced. Gaila, this is DS9’s new security chief, Lieutenant Ro Laren.”
Gaila shot Quark a look. “Security chief?”
Quark nodded.
Sighing, Gaila leaned back. I suppose it won’t be so bad. I don’t have any outstanding warrants or bad business contacts on Bajor. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll arrange transport on DS9.”
Demons of Air and Darkness Page 21
