The boy’s eyes fluttered open. He peered directly at the captain, his expression mixing confusion and hope. “What . . . what’s going on?” he asked in his native Andorian tongue. He rose to his elbows, and the dish-shaped appliances fell from his head. “Where’s my charan?” He referred to one of his two fathers, the one who served aboard Robinson.
“He’s aboard the ship,” Sisko told Corea. “You’ve been taken to an alien world, and we’ve come to bring you home.” He helped the boy to a sitting position. “Are you strong enough to walk?”
Corea blinked his eyes, once, twice, a third time, as though trying to clear the confusion from his thoughts. His antennae twisted slowly on his head, then tensed. He looked over to where the five Glant stood in the corner. “They . . . they brought us here,” he said, pointing. He spoke in Federation Standard.
“We know,” Sisko said. “But we’re getting you out of here. Can you walk?”
Corea hopped off the slab. “I’m ready to run, Captain.”
Sisko couldn’t help but offer an encouraging smile. “Good,” he said. “Then go assist Lieutenant Rogers and Ensign Grandal. Help the younger children.”
“Yes, sir,” Corea said. Fear seemed to drop away from the boy as he headed with a purpose across the chamber.
Sisko moved past a slab on which a vaguely crablike entity lay, seemingly unconscious, and over to the next machine and the next slab. By the time he’d freed the fifth child, Rogers and Grandal had released the other twenty-four. The two security officers each carried one of the younger children, as did Corea and several of the other teenagers. The captain raced over to the group. “How close are the approaching forces?” he asked, but he saw that, with a child in one arm and a phaser in his other hand, Rogers had holstered his tricorder. Sisko grabbed it from the lieutenant’s hip and scanned their surroundings. “We have a window, but we have to go now.” He bent down and addressed the children. He saw that they all wore the special comm units in their ears, which Rogers and Grandal had brought with them. “We have to walk out of here. I want all of you to stay together, and to stay close to Lieutenant Rogers and Ensign Grandal and me. Okay?”
Most of the children responded, though some—particularly the younger ones—just stared. Sisko could see fear in their eyes. His mind drifted to Rebecca, but he shut that thought down right away. “Phasers on max,” he told the security officers quietly. They would have no time to determine if the stun setting would stop all of the forces they encountered—especially with the children in tow. “Come on.”
As the captain led the way back to the doors and out into the corridor, he tapped at his combadge. “Sisko to Styx.”
“Styx here,” Weil replied at once. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“What’s your status?”
“We’re still on the bottom of the lake,” Weil said. “Either we’ve avoided detection or they have no way of getting to us—at least not yet.”
“Good,” Sisko said. “We’ve got the children and we’re on our way back to the transport point. Scan for us and beam us back as soon as you can establish a lock.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Sisko out.”
The captain retraced the away team’s steps back toward the main corridor. At the junction, he held up a hand to stop everybody and then peeked around the corner. He saw nobody in either direction, but then a piercing sound erupted behind them, and then another—not the auditory weapon that had been used to render the crew unconscious aboard Robinson, but something different. In front of Sisko, on the wall of the main corridor opposite the junction, two capsules of light struck the many-colored surface. Chunks of the wall crashed to the floor. The shots—some sort of hybrid energy and projectile ammunition—had come from behind them, down the secondary corridor.
“Go, go,” Sisko said, waving his arm. He looked to Rogers and Grandal. “Take the children. Now.” The two security officers didn’t question their orders, or what their captain intended to do, even as he stepped past them. Rogers and Grandal rushed the group forward and into the main corridor, out of the line of fire and on the way to the transport point.
Sisko dropped to a knee as he saw multiple muzzle flashes ahead of him. The wall next to him exploded in a hail of destroyed stone. He heard another projectile sizzle past his ear and strike out in the main corridor. He couldn’t tell how many entities approached him, but it seemed like a smaller group than earlier. Sisko squeezed the firing pad of his phaser. The blue beam missed his intended target, the being leading the charge, but it caught the one to the leader’s right. As the entity vaporized, the captain aimed his phaser again, adjusting for his initial miss. He fired—
Something hot blazed through Sisko’s left biceps. He was thrown backward and to the floor, sending his phaser blast tracing a line across the wall and ceiling. Hunks of stone rained down, striking the floor like thunderclaps. A cloud of dust filled the corridor.
More shots rang out, but the veil of stone particles served Sisko well. He heard the energy projectiles slam into the wall behind him, high, and he actually saw one as it streaked over him. The beings hadn’t altered their aim toward the floor.
When Sisko glanced to his side, he saw Rogers and Grandal guiding the children away. They had navigated past the beings the away team had earlier stunned or killed. Sisko saw that some of the children had turned around at the sound of the blasts, but the two security guards hurried them back into motion.
The captain realized that he’d been thrown back into the main corridor. He rolled to that side, then scrabbled back to his feet. Pain screamed in his wounded arm, which hung limply by his side, but his adrenaline allowed him to ignore it. He heard more shots striking the wall behind him, as well as the chaotic sound of footfalls nearing.
Sisko sprinted after Rogers and Grandal and their charges. As the captain skipped his way through the fallen beings, he heard a familiar hum from up ahead. When he looked up, he saw the thin white bands of the transporter fading, taking the security guards and the children with them.
The sharp report of an alien weapon sounded behind Sisko. As he darted to one side, a bright projectile sailed past him. He heard another shot, and another, and then a volley. He juked left and right, but expected to feel the hot agony of a weapon strike in his back.
More shots flew past Sisko, and more rang out behind him. He darted to one side in an evasive movement and lost his footing. He stumbled forward, regaining his balance by reaching out and steadying himself against the wall. As he pushed away, he glanced back and saw a flurry of glowing projectiles heading for him. In the instant before they would strike, he thought of his daughter and hoped that one of the other away teams had rescued her.
But then a whine grew in the corridor and Sisko’s vision began to fade. He recognized and welcomed the effects of a Federation transporter. He just hoped that his crew would not end up beaming back their captain’s corpse.
• • •
Sisko dropped to his knees on the transporter platform and looked down at his chest. He expected to see holes singed into his tunic, as well as his own blood. Instead, he saw only his intact uniform. He reflexively clutched a hand to his torso, relieved to find his body whole.
“Captain,” said a voice, and Sisko looked up to see Robinson’s chief medical officer approaching him from the rear of the runabout. Beyond him, Rogers and Grandal tended to the children that they had just rescued. “You’re hurt,” Kosciuszko said. He set down an open medkit as he squatted before Sisko. The doctor already had a medical tricorder in his hand. He activated the device as he waved it over the captain’s left arm.
“It’s nothing,” Sisko said, although the wound had begun to throb angrily. But the captain had more important matters on his mind. He and his away team had recovered a third of the missing children, but that left the others still at risk.
“It’s not nothing,” Kosciuszko said. He set down the tricorder, then dug into his medkit and pulled out a hypospray. “Your biceps muscl
e has been damaged. It’ll require a surgical procedure to repair it.” He fished an ampoule from the medkit and inserted it into the hypo, which he then pressed against the side of Sisko’s shoulder. Over its reassuring hiss, Kosciuszko said, “This will protect against infection and also mask your pain.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Sisko said. He tried to climb to his feet, but had difficulty with only one functioning arm. Kosciuszko helped him up.
“You really should rest, Captain.”
Sisko ignored the doctor and made his way forward from the transporter platform to the runabout’s cockpit. Ensign Weil sat at the main console, while Crewwoman Spingeld remained at her position at the transporter controls. The captain did not see Ensign Bevelaqua, who had joined two officers from Acheron to form one of the away teams. “Status report,” Sisko said.
“The second away team transported back to the Acheron just before you beamed up,” Weil said. She replied to the captain without taking her eyes from her console. A silver comm receiver jutted from her ear, doubtless so that she could monitor the situation on the second runabout. “They reported that they couldn’t get near the chamber holding the children. They faced multiple security forces and sustained two casualties: Lieutenant Stannis and Ensign Bevelaqua both took weapons fire. The ensign is expected to recover, but the lieutenant’s condition is critical; Doctor Mensara has him in stasis.”
The account of injuries to members of his crew troubled Sisko, but his primary attention remained on the recovery of Robinson’s missing children. “What about the third away team?”
“There’s no word yet.” The main console emitted a series of chirps. Weil studied a readout, then worked her controls. “Sensors show alien ships have entered the lake and are heading in this direction.”
“Estimated time to intercept?” Sisko asked.
“Calculating,” Weil said, working the console. “At their current speed, the first ships will reach us in twenty-three minutes.” The ensign’s hand moved up to the receiver in her hear. “Captain, the third away team is transporting to the Acheron now.” She listened for a few seconds, then said, “I’ll put you on with Lieutenant Scalin.” She reached forward and toggled a switch on the main console.
Sisko walked forward and sat down heavily beside Weil. “Lieutenant Scalin,” he said. “Report.”
“The last away team just beamed up, sir,” Scalin said. He spoke with the slightly barbed intonations of individuals native to Terah’la, one of Bajor’s smaller continents. “They brought back all thirty-one children from their location. Doctor Mensara is checking them now, but her preliminary report is that they all appear uninjured and in good health.”
“Acknowledged,” Sisko said, fighting the urge to ask if his daughter had been among those recovered. He had to focus on the remaining missing children, regardless of their identities. “Stand by.” Weil closed the channel.
Sisko rose from his chair and moved to stand beside Spingeld. “Scan the area around the location where the children are being held,” he said. “Search for an alternate place to beam us down, and a different route to reach the children.”
Spingeld shook her head. “It’s difficult to know with certainty because of the inconsistent life signs,” she said, “but the aliens appear to have fortified the area with additional forces. There is no obvious way to reach the children without encountering considerable resistance.”
“Then determine the best of the bad choices,” Sisko said. “I’m going back out there.”
“Yes, sir,” Spingeld said.
“Captain.” Ensign Weil spoke quietly, from directly behind Sisko. He turned to face her where she stood. “Sir, I can’t allow you to transport back to the surface.”
“You can’t—?” Sisko began, but then he stopped, dumbstruck. In the two years she had served aboard Robinson, Anissa Weil had performed her duties well, collecting solid, if not flashy, reviews from her superiors. Nothing in her record suggested a capacity for willful insubordination. “I must not have heard you correctly, Ensign.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her tone low and contained, “but after you, I am the senior command officer aboard the Styx. That makes me your de jure first officer. That means that your safety is my responsibility.”
“Ensign,” Sisko said, emphasizing Weil’s rank in preparation to dress her down, but then he stopped. She was right, he realized, at least in terms of her responsibilities. “Ensign, we don’t have a choice,” he told her. “There are children in danger. We need to bring them home.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Weil said, “you are injured and in no condition to go into battle.” She gestured to his left arm, which hung down flaccidly. “And it will be a battle, Captain. We have lost the element of surprise, and the aliens have strengthened security around the last set of children. We’ve already suffered three casualties among the nine members of the away teams. Sending more of our people into harm’s way right now is unlikely to result in the recovery of the children, but it could easily result in more injuries—or worse—to our crew.”
Sisko wanted to argue, or even simply to order the ensign to stand down, but he knew she was right. Additionally, the Glant had apparently located Acheron and Styx, so remaining on the Dyson section would put not only the crews of the two runabouts at risk, but also the children they had already recovered. Reluctantly, the captain moved back to the main console and took his chair again. “Sisko to Acheron.”
“Acheron here,” Scalin said.
“Lieutenant, set a return course back the way we came,” Sisko said. “Best possible speed. The Styx will follow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sisko out.” He looked up at Weil. “With my injury, I can’t pilot the ship.”
“Aye, sir,” Weil said. She took her position beside Sisko at the main console.
“Take us home, Ensign.”
As the runabout’s engines came to life, Sisko leaned back in his chair. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally. In short order, Acheron and Styx reached the tube that ran between the inner and outer surfaces of the Glant world. The runabouts had traversed half its length when Lieutenant Scalin transmitted a list of the recovered children aboard Acheron.
Rebecca was not among them.
Bajor, 2380
Jasmine Tey walked with purpose through the spring night. B’hava’el had set an hour earlier, taking with it the lengthening daylight on the march toward summer. Tey appreciated the warm evening breeze wafting through the city streets, especially since the summer had departed early on the other side of Bajor, at least in Ashalla.
Tey had followed one of the city’s main pedestrian thoroughfares after transporting from the capital, but she’d quickly left its bright illumination for narrower, darker avenues. She clung to the shadows as best she could, a departure from her tenure protecting Asarem Wadeen. During her time as part of the minister’s security detail, her duties required her constant visibility, a reminder to all of the unceasing guard around the Bajoran leader.
Tey had spent most of the day in Ashalla. She began by visiting Militia headquarters. Seeking an understanding of the debacle on Endalla the previous month, she consulted detailed reports of the incident. Benjamin Sisko and Captain Vaughn had provided their own accounts, and the Militia had taken eyewitness statements from all of the surviving Ohalavaru. Tey read through the official narrative that collated all of the information. Afterward, she worked her way through various analyses, most of which focused on the central player in the confrontation, Rejias Norvan.
Once she’d completed her education about the events on Endalla, Tey skimmed through the material provided by the Ohalavaru participants. More than a few of the testimonies revealed a bitterness for different aspects of Bajoran life: Kai Pralon and the mainstream faithful, First Minister Asarem and the government, the Federation and Starfleet. Tey sorted out those that troubled her the most, the individuals who exhibited enough anger and aggression in their statements to be
ar further investigation. More than a third of the 173 made it to her list.
Hoping to narrow down her pool of suspects, Tey had then crossed Ashalla to the Ministry of Transportation. There, she requested a roster of all transporter operators and technicians stationed across Bajor over the prior five years, reasoning that the method of Rebecca Sisko’s abduction required a degree of expertise not common in the general population. Despite her security clearance, it required the authorization of both Minister Asarem and Overgeneral Manos, as well as a judicial warrant, to acquire the data she wanted.
When Tey eventually received the list, it had contained several thousand names. She cross-referenced it with the sixty-plus Ohalavaru she’d singled out for additional follow-up. Eight names appeared on both lists. Tey found among them two single, middle-aged males, one of whom lived in Johcat, and the other who operated a public transporter there.
Tey had visited the town of Laksie first, and the home of a man named Derwell Kant. She introduced herself as a Militia investigator, telling him that she wanted to ask him just a few supplemental questions about what had taken place on Endalla. He balked, accusing Tey of religious intolerance and governmental intimidation. She agreed wholeheartedly, not about her own motives—after all, she just followed orders—but about those of her superior, who’d ordered her to speak with Derwell.
After Tey had successfully cultivated a sympathetic response, Derwell had agreed to answer her questions. He invited her into his home. She spied nothing out of the ordinary inside. They spoke in the living area, but when she asked to use the refresher, she took a moment to glance into the lone bedroom. In the entire flat, she spotted only two items related to the Ohalavaru: a hardbound volume of The Book of Ohalu and a framed print of the famous icon painting, City of B’hala.
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