O’Brien grunted in amusement. “Tell me about it.”
“Remind me,” Ro said, recalling that O’Brien had transferred from Enterprise to Deep Space 9 to become the station’s chief engineer. “How long did you stay on DS-Nine?”
“Seven years.”
Ro calculated backward on the calendar. “I guess you left just before I got there.”
“That would have been the end of twenty-three-seventy-five.”
“I arrived shortly after that,” Ro said, trying to remember that period. “Now that I think about it, I used to hear your name mentioned quite a lot back then—I think because you were such good friends with Doctor Bashir.”
“Depends which one of us you ask,” O’Brien said, but his smile confirmed Ro’s statement. “We’ve kept in touch, but it’s been a while since we’ve gotten together. It’ll be good to see him again.” Another blast of clamorous noise erupted. O’Brien looked over at all the uninstalled equipment scattered about and the work being done, then up at the new second story. “So, you still haven’t told me what this is,” he yelled.
“Let’s head to my office, where it’s a little quieter,” Ro yelled back. She led him over to the corner and allowed O’Brien to precede her inside. She closed the door behind her, mercifully cutting off the racket from the rest of the facility. When she looked past O’Brien, she saw that the room must’ve shrunk while she’d been out of it. “I said it would be quieter in here,” she told the chief, “not more comfortable.”
“I think you might need to add a few square meters just to get to ‘not more comfortable.’”
“Take the chair,” Ro told him. “I’ve been sitting all day.” O’Brien settled himself at the captain’s desk, which stood facing the wall, though the chair faced outward. Ro leaned against the replicator in the corner, to which she then pointed. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“Where are you coming from, Chief?” Ro asked. “Were you still on Cardassia?”
“Yeah, I’ve been based there for quite a while now,” O’Brien said. “Did a lot of work on reconstruction after the war. Lately, though, since the Union joined the Khitomer Accords, I’ve been helping the Cardassian Guard, upgrading ships’ systems, retrofitting spacedocks, things like that. I also get a fair amount of assignments with the SCE that take me offworld.”
“Sounds like they’ve kept you busy.”
O’Brien grunted his agreement for a second time. “I’m always busy,” he said. “And you haven’t even mentioned my fifteen-year-old daughter and my ten-year-old son.”
“Are they that old already?” Ro asked, surprised. “So you’re not just busy, but frantic.”
“That’s probably a better description,” O’Brien said. “Keiko says nobody in the family stops moving except to sleep.”
“How is Keiko?” Ro asked. “What’s she been doing?”
“She’s great,” O’Brien said. “She’s a botanist with the IAAC.”
“I’m not sure what that is.”
“Oh, it’s the Interstellar Agricultural Aid Commission,” O’Brien explained. “It’s a private organization, but they work closely with the Federation. We first went to Cardassia so that Keiko could be the project leader for the planet’s agricultural renewal efforts.”
“Wow,” Ro said. “Sounds impressive.”
“You know Keiko,” O’Brien said. “She’s definitely that.”
“How does she feel about leaving her position?” Ro asked.
“For right now, we’re just considering moving the family,” O’Brien said. “Most of the heavy lifting’s been done on Cardassia’s agricultural renewal, so Keiko’s going to see what else is available, both there and on Bajor. I mean, we know Bajor—Keiko once worked for six months here as the chief botanist on an agrobiology expedition—but Cardassia’s actually become home. It’s close to Bajor, though, so until we figure out exactly what we’re going to do, we’ll still get to see each other regularly.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it worked out,” Ro said. She stepped away from the replicator and placed her hand on the door. “So you asked about this place,” she said. “What we have out there is the new Deep Space Nine.”
“Pardon?”
“Since the loss of the station, Starfleet has assigned several starships to patrol the entrance to the wormhole,” Ro said. “But as you know, that’s only a portion of the duties that the crew of Deep Space Nine performed. We don’t have a space station anymore, obviously, but we’re going to try as best we can to mimic its functions from here.”
“From a ground-based facility?” O’Brien said. “That seems awfully ambitious. Bajor doesn’t even have any orbital facilities to speak of.”
“We plan on bringing in some tenders to lock in geosynchronous orbit,” Ro said. “We know it’s ambitious, but the alternative to trying to substitute for the functions of the station is to eliminate them until there’s a new station in place.”
“Is there going to be a new station?” O’Brien asked. “I’d heard that some councilors considered it too costly a use of resources at this point.”
“Some apparently do feel that way,” Ro said, “but fortunately, the full Council voted with Starfleet.”
“Good. I think it’s necessary.” O’Brien paused, then said, “It’d be pretty interesting to work on constructing a brand-new space station from the beginning.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Ro said, amused but not surprised that Starfleet Command hadn’t provided Chief O’Brien with all the details of his new billet. After all, they hadn’t even bothered to inform her of his name or arrival date. Ro pointed at the door of her office and said, “In addition to transforming a decades-old Bajoran transportation center—” Then she pointed skyward. “—you’re also going to be one of the engineers in charge of building the new station.”
“Really?” O’Brien said, a big smile forming on his face. “Now that’s a project.”
“I’m sure it is, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy working on it,” Ro said. “But don’t get any ideas. You’re not stepping foot off this planet until you help us remake this place.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Captain.”
“Welcome aboard,” Ro said. “Have you been assigned quarters yet?”
“Not yet,” O’Brien said. “I came directly here from the shuttle that brought me. I’ve got my duffel just outside.”
“We’ve taken over some old government housing in Aljuli, which is a town just south of here,” Ro said. “We won’t be living in luxury, but it’s also not a Cardassian ore-processing facility either.”
O’Brien chuckled at that. “Good point.”
Ro reached up and activated her combadge. “Ro to Cenn.”
“Cenn here, Captain.”
“Desca, where are you?” Ro said. “I’ve got our new chief engineer over here at the control center.”
“I’m in Aljuli,” Desca said. “I’m working on our living arrangements.”
“Perfect,” Ro said. “I’m going to send Chief O’Brien over so you can help him get settled. We need him well rested so he can get this place operational as soon as possible.”
“I’ll meet him at the local transporter.”
“Very good, Desca. Ro out.” She opened the door, then exited with O’Brien to the main floor of the control center. Fortunately, a wall of noise didn’t greet them. “Colonel Cenn Desca is my first officer,” Ro said.
“Colonel Cenn?” O’Brien said. “I thought that Starfleet absorbed the Bajoran Militia.”
“Only the branch not based on the planet,” Ro said. “Colonel Cenn almost never worked offworld—almost never even left Bajor—until I recommended him for the position of Bajoran liaison officer on the station. He agreed, on the condition that he remain attached to the Militia. That was under Captain Kira. When I took command of the station, he agreed to become my first officer.”
“Captain?” came a voice from beside Ro. Sh
e turned to see Lieutenant Commander Douglas. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did,” Ro said. “Wait for me in my office and I’ll be right in.”
“Yes, sir,” Douglas said. She headed into the captain’s office.
To O’Brien, Ro said, “So retrieve your duffel and contact the local transporter in Aljuli. They’ll beam you there, and Colonel Cenn will get you situated.”
“Yes, sir,” O’Brien said. “Thank you, Captain.”
Ro watched him for a moment as he headed toward the open gate, pleased that her new chief engineer had finally arrived. Then she started back toward her office. At the door, she stopped and took a deep breath. She didn’t expect that the next few minutes would be particularly easy.
Then she opened the door and went in to meet with Sarina Douglas.
12
It felt strange for Sisko to be back on Defiant. He had spent so much time on the compact powerhouse of a starship—and its predecessor—when he commanded Deep Space 9, but he had set foot on it on only a handful of occasions since his return from the Celestial Temple seven years earlier. As he peered from the command chair around the bridge, he saw not a single familiar face from his tenure on the station. Of course, he’d gotten accustomed to a new set of faces on a different starship anyway.
“Captain, long-range scanners are reading two more Jem’Hadar fighters,” reported Lieutenant Commander Wheeler Stinson from his station on the port side of the bridge. The dim, red-tinged lighting confirmed the continued operation of Defiant’s cloak. “Traveling at warp five. On our present course, they’ll pass within seventy-five thousand kilometers of us.” The young officer did not sound concerned about an encounter with a pair of Jem’Hadar heavies, but resigned, even bored.
“Dalin Slaine, go to red alert,” Sisko ordered.
“Yes, sir,” said Slaine. She crewed the tactical station off to starboard. Around the bridge, lighting bars began to pulse red.
“Lieutenant Tenmei, drop us out of warp,” Sisko said.
“Slowing to sublight speed,” replied Tenmei from in front of Sisko, where she sat at the arced console that combined the ship’s conn and ops functions. The thrum of the main engines faded. “We have dropped out of warp.”
“Very good,” Sisko said. “Commander Stinson, cut main power.”
Stinson let out a rush of breath, a quick sigh that unmistakably conveyed his frustration with a procedure Sisko had ordered several times since Defiant had entered Dominion space. For the moment, the captain ignored the inappropriate response. “Cutting main power,” Stinson said.
Again, the sounds of the ship changed, the usual background drone growing fainter. Secondary power kept the bridge consoles, life support, and the ship’s cloak operational, but Sisko knew that Defiant’s power signature, extremely high for a vessel of its relatively small size, had been cut by half. The two measures—reducing the ship’s velocity and slashing its power output—would prevent the Jem’Hadar from locating Defiant.
Or at least it would keep them from finding it easily.
Tense moments passed.
“They’re nearing their closest approach to us,” said Stinson. “Like the others, they’re actively sweeping surrounding space with antiproton beams.”
“On-screen,” Sisko said. On the main viewer, two Jem’Hadar fighters appeared, their warp nacelles glowing a purplish white, the undersides of their beetlelike hulls a deeper purple.
Sisko knew that antiproton scans could, under certain circumstances, aid the Jem’Hadar in detecting cloaked vessels. The captain therefore avoided those circumstances. But it had also been a long time since anybody in Starfleet had needed to evade the Jem’Hadar, and Sisko didn’t know what sort of advances they’d made in their cloak-penetrating technology.
Sisko waited. Around him, the Defiant crew did too. Most of them appeared anxious, though not scared. The captain imagined that their successful avoidance of the Jem’Hadar to this point had eased their fears of a confrontation.
Stinson, though, did not look anxious. He glanced around the bridge and shifted in his chair, as though time couldn’t pass quickly enough for him. More than anything, he appeared impatient.
“They’re passing us,” Stinson said. “No change in their heading.”
Sisko waited a few seconds to ensure their safety, then stood up. “Well done, everybody,” he said. “Lieutenant Tenmei, resume course and speed to the Omarion Nebula.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Viewer ahead,” Sisko said. “Mister Stinson, I’d like you to join me in the ready room.” He started toward the portside aft exit.
“Sir?” Stinson said from his station.
Sisko didn’t bother to look around, but continued on toward the door. “You heard me,” the captain said, and for the first time, he hardened his voice.
Without checking to see if Stinson followed—though he assumed he did—Sisko exited the bridge into one of the side halls behind it. He crossed the main port corridor and entered the ship’s ready room. He went to the desk, swung around it, and sat down. When he did, he saw Lieutenant Commander Stinson stepping inside.
Sisko waited for the door to close. Stinson approached the desk and took a seat in one of the chairs before it. He wore a harried expression. Sisko said nothing at first, allowing the young man’s emotions time to marinate.
“Sir?” Stinson finally asked, the look on his face changing to one of annoyance.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, Mister Stinson,” Sisko said, his tone cold. “And I don’t recall asking you to have a seat.”
Stinson stared at the captain, nonplussed. “Sir?” he said again.
“On your feet, Commander,” Sisko barked.
For just a moment, Sisko thought that Stinson wouldn’t comply. Considering the substantial risks of entering Dominion space, the captain had no interest in wasting his time and attention on having to discipline his own crew. But then it’s not my crew, is it? He knew that it didn’t matter. The men and women aboard Defiant had a job to perform, and Sisko would see that it got done, even if it meant locking up his first officer in the brig.
Stinson appeared to realize that the captain truly meant for him to stand, and so he did. He did not mask his irritation.
Neither did Sisko.
“Am I bothering you, Commander?” Sisko said.
Stinson raised his chin and said nothing.
Sisko rose and came out from behind the desk to stand beside the man serving as his exec. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”
“Sir?”
“Stop saying ‘sir,’” Sisko said loudly. “Am . . . I . . . bothering you?”
Stinson turned his head toward the captain. “Permission to speak freely,” he said.
“No, you do not have permission to speak freely,” Sisko told him. “You have permission only to answer the questions I put to you. Now: am I bothering you?”
“Sir . . . Captain, I—”
“That’s a yes-or-no question.”
Sisko expected Stinson to say no, but the lieutenant commander surprised him: “Yes.”
The answer also impressed Sisko. Stinson had the courage and confidence of his youthful inexperience. During their journey through the Gamma Quadrant, as the captain had registered the young man’s displeasure with some orders, Sisko had checked his background. Stinson graduated third in his class at the Academy, where he excelled across Starfleet’s disciplines. As a cadet, he showed a penchant for piloting, and in his first spaceborne assignments, aboard Victoria Falls and then Viriya Parami, he spent time working in both engineering and the sciences, and even briefly in security. His aspirations, though, had always been in command, and he’d found a supporter in Ro Laren when Starfleet had assigned him to Deep Space 9. But then, Sisko suspected that Stinson had never displayed insolence toward Captain Ro.
“Commander, I happen not to care whether I’m bothering you,” Sisko said. “Because the fulfillment of your emotional state is not t
he reason we’re in the Gamma Quadrant. We have a job to do. The Typhon Pact had contact with the Founders, and we need to know why. Because it’s entirely possible that if the two have formed an alliance, the Federation and its allies might be facing a war that would all but obliterate each and every world in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.”
Sisko paced around Stinson, behind his back, until he faced him from the other side. Stinson turned his head to look at the captain. “Eyes front, mister,” Sisko snapped. “You’re at attention.” Stinson obeyed, and for the first time since they’d entered the ready room, the emotion had gone out of his face.
“I understand that, with Captain Ro busy on Bajor and Starfleet assigning the Defiant to this mission, you probably think that you should have been given the chance to command—because, after all, during the normal course of your duties, when Captain Ro is unavailable, you do command the Defiant. Why, you might wonder, did Starfleet send this old man to take this opportunity from you?
“But this isn’t an opportunity,” Sisko continued, building up a head of steam. “It’s a mission that could be critical to the lives of literally trillions of people. I graduated Starfleet Academy twenty-nine years ago. I served during the last Federation-Tzenkethi War, the Dominion War, and the Borg invasion. I’m an honest-to-goodness war hero and a religious icon. I’ve logged more hours in the Gamma Quadrant than anybody in Federation history, and I had a Changeling serve under my command for seven years.”
Once more, Sisko circled behind Stinson. No trace of the lieutenant commander’s annoyance remained visible. “I also happen to know that a cloaked starship radiates a minor subspace variance when traveling at warp, that the Defiant has an outsized power signature, and that the Jem’Hadar are capable of detecting both those things.”
Sisko stepped away from Stinson and moved back behind the desk, where he sat down again. “While my calls to bring the ship out of warp and to reduce its power output might irritate you in your quest to log star-hours, they might also have saved this crew so that we can accomplish what we set out to do. So tell me . . . Lieutenant . . . Commander . . . Stinson . . . which one of us do you think is better equipped to be leading this mission?”
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Raise the Dawn (Star Trek, the Next Generation) Page 21
