Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Raise the Dawn (Star Trek, the Next Generation)

by George III, David R.

  Stinson tapped at his controls, which chirped in response. “We can obstruct a portion of the opening,” he said. “Maybe as much as half of it if we extend our shield envelope, but that would still leave enough space for another vessel to slip past us.”

  Damn! Sisko thought, understanding that, in order to fully protect against the Typhon Pact’s latest threat, the Defiant crew required immediate assistance. He stood back up straight and turned to the port side of the bridge. “Lieutenant Aleco,” he said, “I want you to take a shuttle back to Bajoran space. Contact Captain Picard and inform him of what we’ve discovered. Tell him to order the Venture to join the Defiant inside the wormhole, and that I want him to station the Enterprise in the Idran system at the—”

  “Captain,” Dalin Slaine interrupted from the tactical station, tension in her voice. “I’m detecting another ship inside the wormhole, approaching from the Gamma Quadrant.”

  “On-screen,” Sisko said.

  On the main viewer, he watched with a measure of relief as the terrible red blight afflicting the Bajoran wormhole vanished. At the same time, Sisko feared that what replaced it might prove even more of a danger. It did not surprise him when the image of a Romulan warbird appeared.

  “Captain,” said Slaine, “they’re running with weapons hot.”

  “Weapons?” Sisko said. “In the wormhole?” The idea horrified him. Even so long after his last contact with the Prophets, and even with the complex emotions he felt about them, the thought of a firefight within the Celestial Temple struck him as a profanity. More than that, though, such an incident would further endanger the beings who resided within the Bajoran wormhole.

  “Sir?” asked Aleco, who had made it halfway to the portside aft door. He’d apparently stopped there when Slaine had interrupted Sisko’s order to take a shuttle back to the Alpha Quadrant.

  “For now, back to your post,” Sisko said. He would not risk Aleco’s life by sending out a shuttle with a Romulan warbird in such close proximity. He would have to find another way to thwart the Typhon Pact. “Commander Stinson, back us into the opening. Increase the extent of our shield envelope as much as possible. Move the ship as you need to, but we need to prevent that warbird from getting past us.”

  “Aye, sir,” Stinson said, already working at his console to translate the captain’s orders into reality.

  As Defiant maneuvered into position, Sisko returned to the command chair and sat down. He had no idea how long he and his crew could prevent the Romulan vessel from entering the red wormhole, or, without firing their weapons, how they could permanently stop the warbird. He only knew that they had no choice but to make a stand.

  Captain Picard sat in the command chair on the Enterprise bridge, peering at the panoply of stars on the main viewscreen. Defiant had departed only a few minutes earlier, but still Picard waited for the impressive display of the Bajoran wormhole to reappear. He knew that, in some manner, Starfleet would have to determine an ongoing way of protecting the spectacular natural resource.

  Except that it’s not natural, is it? Picard reminded himself. He didn’t understand how or why Captain Sisko had lost his ability to communicate with the aliens who resided within the wormhole, but it seemed unfortunate that they could not be warned about the potential danger ahead.

  “Captain, we’re receiving a transmission,” said Lieutenant Choudhury from the tactical console. Picard anticipated a report on the status of the wormhole from Captain Sisko, but Enterprise’s security chief told him something different. “It’s from Bajoran Space Central,” she said. “It’s Captain Ro.”

  Picard exchanged a look of curiosity with his first officer, who sat to his right, then peered up at Choudhury. “Put her on-screen, Lieutenant.”

  Ro Laren appeared on the main viewer, situated within the confines of what appeared to be a very small office. “Captain Ro,” Picard said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure, Captain,” Ro said. “A short time ago, we had something very peculiar take place here at Bajoran Space Central.” She paused, clearly not comfortable with whatever information she needed to reveal. “You’re familiar with Kira Nerys?”

  “Yes, of course,” Picard said. “She was one of your predecessors aboard Deep Space Nine.” Picard hesitated over the name of the station, not wanting to evoke the terrible events of less than a month earlier. The Enterprise crew had actually recovered Kira from DS9’s wreckage, though Picard had not spoken with her. “She commanded for two years, I believe.”

  “That’s right,” Ro said, but then she looked away and shook her head. When she gazed forward again, Picard interpreted her expression as one that mixed concern and confusion. “Kira’s a vedek now,” Ro continued. “And if my chief engineer is to be believed, it appears that she just appropriated one of our runabouts.”

  “What?” Picard said. He glanced over at his first officer. The captain knew that Worf had served for some time with Kira. The Klingon could only look back with a nonplussed expression.

  Picard peered back at Ro. He did not appreciate having to address such a situation while in the midst of dealing with the far more serious issues at the wormhole. “Pardon me, Captain,” Picard said, not hiding his displeasure, “but how does something like that happen?”

  “It happens when you’ve got a ground-based facility masquerading as a space station,” Ro said, not without an edge, “and people who’ve known Kira Nerys for more than a decade not expecting her to hijack a spacecraft.”

  Picard thought about that for a moment. He had to admit to himself that if, say, Will Riker or Deanna Troi wanted to transport aboard the Enterprise and purloin a shuttle, they probably wouldn’t run into much opposition—not even from Picard himself. “All right,” he said, softening his tone. “Where is Kira now?”

  “Headed in your direction, Captain,” Ro said. “That’s why I’m contacting you.”

  “Do you have any idea why Kira would—”

  “Captain,” interrupted Choudhury, “we’re being hailed by a runabout. It’s the Rubicon. It’s Vedek Kira.”

  “Did you hear that, Captain?” Picard asked Ro.

  “I did,” Ro said.

  “We will retrieve your pilfered runabout and return it to you,” Picard said. “I’ll let you know what Vedek Kira has to say for herself.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Ro said.

  “Picard out.” As the stars replaced Ro on the viewer, the captain turned to Choudhury. “Put the vedek on-screen, Lieutenant.”

  Picard immediately recognized the face of the woman who appeared on the display. He’d met and dealt with Kira Nerys on several occasions in the course of his career. She did not wear a uniform—she’d resigned from Starfleet five or six years earlier, as best Picard could recall—or the traditional vestments of a vedek, but a casual, albeit flattering, outfit.

  “Captain Picard,” Kira said, a sense of urgency in her voice. “I need to speak with you at once.”

  “Vedek Kira,” Picard said, rising and moving to stand in the center of the bridge. “This is unexpected.”

  “Yes, Captain, I know,” Kira said. “I’m sure Ro’s contacted you by now to tell you that I borrowed one of her runabouts.”

  “I don’t believe that Captain Ro used the word borrowed,” Picard said.

  “Fine, I stole it,” Kira said. “I’ll gladly turn it over to you and surrender myself into your custody. But none of that matters right now. The important thing is that I need to speak with you about a critical issue.”

  “An issue critical to whom?” Picard asked.

  “I’d rather not reveal that on an open channel,” Kira said. “Will you give me an approach beacon so that I can land in your shuttlebay and we can talk in person?”

  At Kira’s question, Picard glanced over at Choudhury, who appeared concerned. “Stand by, Vedek,” he said, then motioned to the security chief, who interrupted the communication. “Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, she stole a Starflee
t runabout,” Choudhury said. “It’s unclear if we can trust her to land safely aboard.”

  Worf quickly rose from his chair and paced over to stand beside Picard. “Captain, I served with Kira on Deep Space Nine for four years,” he said. “She is an honorable woman. If she took a runabout, she must have a very good reason for it. And she is not absconding with the Rubicon, but flying it directly to a Starfleet vessel and requesting a meeting with you.”

  Picard considered Worf’s judgment, then looked back to Choudhury. “Lieutenant,” the captain asked, “do you think that the vedek has suddenly become a terrorist?”

  “I don’t think that she’s become a terrorist, sir,” Choudhury said. “She has always been a terrorist.”

  Until that moment, Picard had forgotten about Kira’s past under the Cardassian Occupation. Clearly his chief of security had not. The captain sighed, then said, “That was a long time ago, Lieutenant, and under very different circumstances. Since then, Kira has worn this uniform.” He motioned to his own tunic.

  “Vedek Kira is no longer in Starfleet,” Choudhury said. “But even if she were, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not point out that people wearing the uniform have betrayed their allegiance before.” Picard didn’t know if his security chief specifically intended to make reference to Ro Laren, but the captain understood her point.

  “How far away is the Rubicon?” Picard wanted to know.

  “At its current speed,” Choudhury said, checking her panel, “less than two minutes.”

  “And have you scanned the runabout?” the captain asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Choudhury said. “There’s no indication of explosives or other weaponry other than what’s standard for a runabout. The vessel does not appear to have been altered in any way, and it contains no passengers other than Vedek Kira.”

  “So no unusual readings?” Picard said. “No details that would alert our chief of security?”

  “Other than the fact of the runabout’s theft, no,” Choudhury said.

  Picard nodded. “In that case,” he said, “I think we can give Vedek Kira the benefit of the doubt for now. But to respect your concerns, Lieutenant, we’ll tractor her in.”

  “Aye, sir,” Choudhury said.

  Picard gestured toward the main screen, and the security chief reopened the channel to Rubicon. “Vedek Kira,” Picard said, “we are transmitting an approach beacon for you, and we’ll bring the Rubicon in using our tractor beam.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Kira said. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you shortly,” Picard said. “Enterprise out.”

  Kira’s image winked off the screen, replaced again by a view of the stars. Picard looked to Choudhury. “Make the necessary arrangements, Lieutenant.”

  “Sending out an approach beacon,” Choudhury said, operating the controls of her console. But then she added, “Captain, I know that you and Commander Worf know Kira personally, but—”

  “I understand, Lieutenant,” Picard said. “If you feel it’s necessary, send a security team to greet Vedek Kira and escort her to my ready room.”

  “I’ll go,” Worf said.

  “Very good, Number One,” Picard said. Then, looking to Choudhury, he said, “You have the bridge, Lieutenant.” The captain started toward his ready room, but before he reached it, the security chief spoke up.

  “Captain, the Rubicon has deviated from the approach beacon,” she said.

  “What about the tractor beam?” Worf asked.

  “I was just about to deploy it when the runabout began taking evasive maneuvers,” she said. “It’s headed—” Choudhury stopped and peered over at the main viewscreen, where the Bajoran wormhole erupted in a rolling surge of luminous blue.

  “Warn her off,” Picard ordered, but too late.

  Kira Nerys flew the Rubicon into the wormhole.

  Morad stared at the main viewer on the Vetruvis bridge. On the screen, a Federation starship stood sentry between the Romulan warbird and the fulfillment of the mission. “What are they waiting for?” he asked, frustrated at what seemed like the final impediment to his success.

  “I don’t know,” said Kozik. Once the crew had detected the presence of the Starfleet vessel in the entrance to the Tzenkethi wormhole, the commander had ordered Vetruvis to a halt. The Federation ship made no aggressive moves, but without its cloak, the Romulan warbird could not hide. “Is there room for us to fly past them?” Kozik asked.

  At the sensor board, Reval worked her controls. “The Starfleet vessel is projecting its shields out around it,” she said, “but they can only obstruct about half the entry.”

  Kozik nodded, but he said nothing more. Morad could not stand the inaction. “What are you waiting for?” he demanded of the commander.

  Kozik slowly turned his head to peer at Morad. “Would you have us attempt to rush past the ship out there,” he asked, “so that its crew can use its shields to force the Vetruvis into the wall of the wormhole?”

  Morad said nothing. In his mind, though, he visualized the confrontation of which the commander spoke.

  “Do you know what would happen in such a case?” Kozik asked.

  “No,” Morad responded meekly, though he imagined a catastrophic end.

  “Neither do I,” Kozik said. “Neither do any of us. Any more than we know what will happen if we fire energy weapons inside a wormhole.”

  From the weapons and defense console, Subcommander Analest said, “Commander, what about a tractor beam? If we sweep in as if to attack, perhaps we can surprise the Starfleet crew and capture their ship.”

  Kozik looked from Analest to the viewscreen, and then back again. “That is one of their Defiant-class starships,” he said. “It has powerful engines.”

  “As does the Vetruvis,” Analest said. “But velocity is limited within the wormhole, anyway, and so an equal force for both ships. But our vessel has a greater mass than theirs, so we should be able to move them aside. We’d only need a matter of moments to clear them from the mouth of our wormhole.”

  Morad looked at the commander and studied his reaction. The Cardassian hoped that Analest’s proposal made practical sense. Morad understood that the longer Vetruvis remained within the Bajoran wormhole, the more likely that Starfleet reinforcements would arrive and foil the delivery of the slipstream-enabling technology.

  Kozik peered at the viewer once more, and then, quietly, said, “Yes.” Then, louder, “Yes.” Morad felt a rush of excitement as the commander stood up and made his way to the center of the bridge. “Lieutenant Natrel,” Kozik said, “calculate a crossing run designed for an attack, but bring us in just close enough to engage our tractor beam.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Natrel said.

  “Analest,” Kozik said, “when we’re close enough, use the tractor to capture the Starfleet vessel and haul it out of the entrance to the Tzenkethi wormhole. Maneuver the ship out of our path and release it. Natrel, the instant we drop the tractor beam, take the Vetruvis inside.”

  Both the executive officer and the pilot acknowledged their orders. Morad waited anxiously while they made their preparations. Finally, Natrel said, “Course laid in, Commander.”

  “Tractor beam at the ready,” said Analest.

  Kozik returned to the command chair and sat down. “Execute,” he said.

  As Vetruvis leaped forward, Morad saw the Federation starship grow on the viewscreen. He expected phasers to erupt from the enemy vessel at any moment, but the ship only moved to alter its position relative to the warbird. On the cusp of attempting to dash past the Federation starship, Vetruvis suddenly slammed to a halt.

  On the viewer, Morad saw hazy white rays shoot from the warbird, like the grasping tendrils of some deep-sea creature searching for its next meal. The Federation vessel lurched backward, farther into the Tzenkethi wormhole, but then Vetruvis’s tractor beam reached it and held it fast.

  “Now,” Kozik called out. “Full reverse.”

  But Morad heard that the sound
of the engines had already changed. A great whine suffused the bridge as the warbird’s engines strained to overcome those of the enemy vessel. For long moments, the two ships faced each other, connected by the white glow of Vetruvis’s tractor beam.

  And then Morad saw the Federation starship begin to move. He watched eagerly as Vetruvis retreated from the entrance to the Tzenkethi wormhole, pulling the Starfleet vessel away from where it blocked the path back home.

  The lighting panels on the bridge of the Jem’Hadar fighter had failed, leaving only the illumination provided by a number of active control stations and a sporadic series of sparks near where part of the overhead had collapsed. Odo hurried from one member of the crew to another, checking on their condition. Two of the Jem’Hadar had died in the attack, and several others had suffered serious injuries, but the Changeling knew that if the Romulan warbird hadn’t broken off its assault, the destruction and death would have been total.

  While Odo detested losing any of the crew, particularly as they carried out his orders, it pleased him to find that both Weyoun and Rotan’talag had survived the attack. The Jem’Hadar had already risen and moved over to work at one of the control consoles, where he followed the Changeling’s order to attempt the restoration of communications.

  Although Odo still felt obligated to complete the task he’d set himself, he wanted nothing more at that moment than to return to the Dominion. Since he had chosen to reside there after the war, the place had truly become his home, and even after the Founders had fled, it had remained so. Odo wished only to turn around and head back to the Dominion, where he could continue his efforts to elevate all its members, in preparation for the day that the rest of the Founders would return and re-form the Great Link.

  But all of that will have to wait, he thought.

  Odo crossed the compact bridge to where Weyoun spoke with the Jem’Hadar seventh, Vorgan’lorat. Odo listened as the Vorta issued orders. It pleased him to hear Weyoun focus on seeing that the crew received the medical attention they needed.