Maintaining a patter of meaningless small talk, the team quickly gathered two dozen ears and secured them in Deanna’s makeshift sack. Data swung the heavy bundle easily onto his back.
“Let’s head for the road,” Vaughn ordered quietly. “We’ll seem less suspicious if we show ourselves to the patrol. Deanna, if they stop us, you do the talking. You’re more familiar with the planet than the rest of us. But everyone remain alert. If they give us trouble, we’ll have to take them out.”
Take them out?
The idea of hand-to-hand combat with the Jem’Hadar wiped Deanna’s mind suddenly blank, and she could recall nothing Vaughn had taught her. She could only hope that he’d drilled her so thoroughly, she would react immediately and instinctively if the time came.
The group made their way along one of the furrows, their boots gouging the earth and filling the air with the pungent scent of rich loam. In the peaceful natural setting, Deanna would have found the interstellar war raging in the heavens around them hard to believe if she hadn’t been a veteran of so many conflicts.
Searching the skies, she prayed she’d been wrong in suspecting the Defiant had come under attack. The Daronan atmosphere had revealed no evidence of a conflict—no massive explosions, no trails of smoking debris, but that meant nothing.
With Deanna in the lead, the away team stepped from the field onto the hard-surfaced road. None of them glanced toward the Jem’Hadar patrol fast approaching from the east. With luck, Deanna thought, her team could continue west toward Jarkana without drawing attention. A group of farmers, clustered around a wagon drawn by sturdy Daronan oxen, trudged ahead of her. If she and the rest of the team hurried, they could blend in with the crowd.
“Halt!” a harsh voice behind them ordered.
Deanna stopped and turned. Beverly paused on one side of her, Data and Vaughn on the other. Deanna caught sight of the commander and blinked in surprise. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn Vaughn was a changeling. The tall officer had shrunk inside his coat, seemingly losing inches in height, his posture suddenly projecting only feeble harmlessness.
She had little time to appreciate Vaughn’s metamorphosis before she found herself almost toe-to-toe with the Jem’Hadar leader. The members of his patrol, weapons drawn and aimed at the away team, waited a few feet away.
“What are you doing here?” the patrol leader demanded.
“Picking cavat.” At Deanna’s first up-close confrontation with a Jem’Hadar, she was struck foremost by the immensity of the soldier, and next by the fierceness of his appearance. His cobbled skin, pierced with protruding bones like rows of teeth, reminded her of pebbles on a rocky beach. With his ashen complexion, gray uniform, and huge size, she figured fighting a real Jem’Hadar would seem the equivalent of attacking a small mountain.
His emotions and those of his group bombarded her, and the soldiers made no attempt to hide them. She sensed dedication to the Founders, contempt for their foes, and an eagerness for combat. She hoped she could defuse the last.
“The cavat in this field is harvested by machines,” the Jem’Hadar leader said with suspicion. “You don’t belong here. Present your ID chips.”
Deanna’s mind whirled. If she couldn’t come up with a convincing explanation, her team would have to fight its way out. Vaughn might be able take down one of the soldiers, if he could reach one before being shot, and Data with his superhuman strength could probably handle two, but she wasn’t convinced she and Beverly together could disable the fourth without their weapons.
Estimating how long she would need to retrieve the phaser concealed under her coat, Deanna pointed to Vaughn, who was staring at his feet. “See my senile father there?” She shifted her attention to Data. “And my brainless brother? If we had brought our IDs with us, they would have lost theirs. My sister,” she nodded to Beverly, “and I do well just to keep up with these two simpletons, much less keep track of bureaucratic red tape. If you wish to follow us into the city, however, I’ll retrieve our credentials from our home.”
The patrol leader frowned but held his fire. Perhaps he saw no glory for the Founders in vaporizing two dullards and a couple of women, although Deanna sensed his willingness to kill them all where they stood.
“What’s in the bundle?” He pointed to Data’s back.
With the back of her hand, Deanna whacked Data in the ribs and swallowed a grunt of pain at the impact of her hand against his bioplast sheeting. “Hey, idiot. Show this soldier our cavat.”
Falling easily into his simpleton role, Data set the bundle on the road and with irritating slowness, untied the scarf. With the knot free, cavat rolled in every direction.
“Now see what you’ve done,” Deanna yelled and cuffed Data on his ear. “You’ve bruised it, and it won’t be fit to eat.”
Another of the Jem’Hadar approached and poked at the cavat with his rifle. Apparently convinced the vegetable was what it appeared to be, he moved back into his position with the patrol.
“Where do you live in the city?” the leader demanded.
“Near the prison,” Deanna said. “My family and I work as domestics in Director Lanolan’s home and on the grounds.”
She held her breath, wondering if it would be her last or if their charade as a dysfunctional family had convinced the Jem’Hadar they were harmless.
“Next time you venture out,” the Jem’Hadar said with a snarl, “have your ID chips, or we won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
“Yes, sir,” Deanna said meekly. “Thank you, sir. May we go? We want to catch up with our friends.” She motioned to the farmers who had moved quickly ahead on the Jarkana road.
The patrol leader waved them forward. With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Data rebundled the cavat and slung it on his back. Beverly offered Vaughn the support of her arm, and the away team started toward Jarkana as fast as Vaughn’s limping old-man pace would allow. The Jem’Hadar patrol pivoted and headed in the opposite direction into the countryside.
“Nice work, Deanna,” Vaughn said.
“Thanks. I’m sorry, Data, that I had to hit you.”
“The blow was very convincing,” Data said, “but it did not hurt me. I am certain, however, the same cannot be said for you.”
Deanna gingerly massaged her bruised hand. “You give a whole new meaning to the term thick-skinned.”
Beverly flashed her a grin. “You’re quite an actor.”
Data nodded in agreement. “Once this war is ended, you must participate more often in our dramatic presentations. You would make a fine Kate in The Taming of the Shrew.”
Once this war is ended . . .
Deanna wondered how many of them would live to see that day—or if they would want to if the Jem’Hadar continued to hammer the Federation. She had just experienced a small but extremely unpleasant taste of what living under Dominion rule would be like.
Once the patrol had disappeared, Vaughn straightened and picked up his pace. Soon the away team caught up with the band of farmers headed for market and trailed in their wake. Even at a quick walk, Deanna had time to study the countryside. Much was as she remembered from seventeen years earlier, but here and there among Darona’s rolling fields and efficient farms were blackened swaths of scorched earth where a crop had been burned or a building destroyed, ugly reminders of the Dominion occupation.
If Darona, with only a small garrison of Jem’Hadar, was this scarred, she thought with a sinking heart, what had fifty thousand Jem’Hadar done to Betazed?
Emotions from the group of farmers drifted back to her, with fear the most prevalent, especially in the younger children who had not yet developed the capacity to shield their feelings. Although a few adults laughed and joked among themselves, Deanna sensed their efforts at making the best of a terrifying situation.
Upon nearing the city, both vehicle and foot traffic slowed, and the away team found itself detained at the end of a long line.
“Traffic jam?” Beverly asked.
Data rose on tiptoe to see over the crowd ahead of him. “It is a checkpoint. A Vorta is supervising a group of soldiers searching those entering the city.”
A sudden stillness descended on the crowd.
“No, please,” a man’s voice cried out. “It’s my fault. Don’t—”
Weapons fire flashed ahead of them. The crowd stifled a collective gasp, and the group’s horror and revulsion enveloped Deanna like a choking cloud.
“What happened?” Beverly asked.
Deanna couldn’t speak. She’d felt exactly what had transpired, and the horror of it threatened to overwhelm her.
Data, who had been studying the scene intently, reported, “They discovered a weapon on the farmer. The Jem’Hadar shot his entire family.”
“Deanna?” Vaughn said quietly. “Are you all right?”
Deanna fought back tears and nodded. “Just give me a second.” Breathe. Get past it. Now isn’t the time . . .
“Are they searching everyone?” Vaughn asked Data.
Data nodded. “It appears so.”
Vaughn turned back to Deanna. “Is there another way into the city?” Inside their coats, they each carried a phaser rifle. In addition, Data concealed a tricorder and Beverly her medical equipment.
Deanna swallowed and pointed to their left to a rough track winding uphill between tall bushes. “That footpath will take us to the director’s house. It circles the city to the prison on the other side.”
Vaughn nodded. “Then we’ll use the footpath. Lead the way, Commander.”
The team moved away from the crowd and started up the narrow track of hard-packed red clay that ran behind the extensive gardens of houses on the eastern edge of the city. They had traveled only a short distance when a familiar voice called out behind them.
“Halt!”
Deanna turned to see the Jem’Hadar patrol they had encountered earlier bearing down on them. Beside her, Vaughn shrank back into his old man guise. Beverly took Vaughn’s arm as if holding him upright, and Data set the bundle of cavat at his feet. Outwardly, her friends appeared both calm and puzzled at the Jem’Hadar approach, but Deanna sensed their coiled readiness to strike in an instant.
“Why are you avoiding the checkpoint?” the patrol leader demanded.
“We’re avoiding nothing,” Deanna said. “This path leads to Director Lanolan’s house and our home. Besides, my father’s mind is failing. The noises of the city frighten him, so we take this route instead of passing through all the hubbub and traffic.”
The Jem’Hadar leader motioned them onward. “We’ll follow you. When you reach the director’s house, we’ll determine if you are who you say.”
“Who else would we be?” Data, resuming his simpleton role with ease, asked in a puzzled and childish tone.
“Shut up, you idiot!” Deanna snapped. “Just pick up the cavat and get moving. We’re already late.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Data grabbed the bundle. Deanna shoved him ahead of her on the path, and Beverly, aiding Vaughn’s faltering steps, brought up the rear. The patrol followed, and Deanna could feel their eyes boring into her back, could read the suspicion in their thoughts. She hoped Lanolan or his wife would be at home to welcome them, or her team would end up battling the Jem’Hadar patrol.
She had forgotten how long, steep, and winding the footpath circling the city was, and their journey to Lanolan’s home seemed to take an eternity. Playing on his feigned infirmity, Vaughn stumbled several times, but not long enough to slow their progress. None of them wished to push the Jem’Hadar’s patience to the breaking point, because the narrow path offered no room for maneuvering if fighting broke out.
With relief, Deanna spotted the side track that split away from the main path and connected with the prison. She led the way down the steep slope toward the broad avenue and Lanolan’s house. Beverly and Vaughn tottered behind her, and Data placed himself at the rear of the group, a comforting shield between them and the Jem’Hadar.
A sweeping glance indicated the neighborhood and the prison on the hill behind the director’s house remained undamaged by Darona’s occupation force, but intact buildings didn’t guarantee their occupants had survived. For the first time, Deanna wondered whether the Jem’Hadar had killed the inmates and if Tevren was still alive. Executing the Betazoid prisoners would have freed the maximum security facility for any prisoners of war the invaders wished to retain. Tevren’s death would resolve her moral reservations about this mission, but without his help, what hope did the resistance have?
The Jem’Hadar remained hard on their heels when Deanna and her team turned onto the curving brick walk leading to Director Lanolan’s front door. They climbed the broad stairs to the porch, and Deanna signaled their arrival at the entryway. The Jem’Hadar, weapons at the ready, waited at the foot of the steps.
The wide paneled door swung open, and an unfamiliar scrawny woman with a topknot of gray curls confronted them, her fists planted firmly on her skinny hips, her expression belligerent. Deanna could sense the housekeeper’s fear. She saw the terror in the woman’s eyes when she’d spotted their Jem’Hadar escort.
Before the woman could say anything that would blow their cover, Troi said, “Sorry we’re late.” And at the same time, she sent a quick thought into the woman’s mind: My name’s Deanna Troi. Please, I need to see Director Lanolan.
The woman still looked terrified, but defiant. “You must have the wrong house.”
Before Deanna could utter a reply, the door slammed in her face, leaving the away team stranded on the porch with the Jem’Hadar blocking their retreat.
Chapter Nine
“BATTLE STATIONS.” Picard leaned forward in the center seat, his face set in concentration. The Enterprise, accompanied by the starships Tulwar, Katana, and Scimitar, sped through space toward the Betazed system at maximum warp to confront the superior Dominion force guarding Betazed and Sentok Nor.
“Picking up six Cardassian Galor-class cruisers and four Jem’Hadar attack ships,” said Hernandez, the young ensign who had replaced Data at ops.
“Any sign of Dominion battle cruisers?” Picard asked.
“Two on long-range sensors, Captain.”
“Damn,” Picard muttered. He had hoped to pierce the station’s defenses and leave the area before the battle cruisers arrived. The Enterprise’s mission, to drop shields in the middle of a battle in order to insert Riker’s team and then retrieve them from the space station, would be difficult enough without having to contend with additional enemy ships.
“Slow to warp six,” Picard ordered.
The sensors of the enemy fleet and Sentok Nor would pick up the Starfleet warp signatures, but he was counting on the Dominion not to expect the tiny contingent to drop out of warp right on top of the larger enemy force. The captain intended to preserve their element of surprise, but he also wanted to give navigation the best chance to leave warp in a superior tactical position.
“A ship is lifting off Betazed on course for Sentok Nor,” Lieutenant Daniels at tactical announced.
“Identify,” Picard ordered.
“It’s a Cardassian freighter.”
Picard relaxed. With minimum armament, one freighter would cause no problem.
“Our escorts?” Picard asked.
“In attack formation, sir.”
The Saber-class vessels usually served as fast perimeter-defense ships in border regions. Presently guarding the Enterprise’s flanks, the light cruisers had already proved their worth in extensive action on several fronts. Their captains and crews would take full advantage of their agile vessels’ maneuverability, which had repeatedly allowed them to hold their own against much larger opponents in hostile frontier regions.
The compact ships, with their crews of forty, saved weight and space through their internal nacelle configurations. The design feature made the vessels faster but also more vulnerable to full armor penetration and core breaches. Like a boxer who dances to avoid punches, the light cruisers had
to keep moving to prevent a total knockout.
“Away team standing by to transport,” Riker’s voice reported from Transporter Room 2.
“Understood, Number One. Good luck.” Picard turned to tactical. “Arm and target quantum torpedoes.” He had waited until the last instant, not wanting the enemy to sense the Enterprise was powering up weapons until too late for them to react.
“Targeting,” Daniels announced.
The captain tugged at his uniform, and the familiar gesture steadied him. “Helm?”
“Seven seconds to Betazed.”
“Prepare to drop out of warp on my mark.” Picard directed his order simultaneously to the Saber-class ships. “Two, one, mark.”
The Enterprise entered normal space at full impulse. In the distance floated the massive hulk of Sentok Nor, its arching pylons and central cylinder dominating the sky over the planet. Two alert Galor-class attack cruisers raised shields. Seven others had yet to react.
“Fire quantum torpedoes.”
“Torpedoes away, sir.”
“Raise shields.”
The Saber-class ships opened fire at the same time. Picard held his breath, praying their surprise tactic would work. On the viewscreen, streaks of light tracked the weapons to their targets.
At such proximity, the first barrage took only seconds to impact, and the lead Cardassian ship collapsed inward, wheeled into her sister ship, then exploded in an incendiary burst that lit the jet-black sky and destroyed the second ship along with it. A Jem’Hadar attack ship sustained hull damage but returned fire before the Katana finished her off.
The Enterprise shook from the impact of a Cardassian spiral wave disruptor.
“Shields at eighty percent.”
The Battle of Betazed Page 10
