This Gray Spirit

by Heather Jarman

  “Lock onto the Yrythny. Two to transport,” he heard someone say. Mikaela.

  The sound of the transporter beam filled the cabin again. Then hands pulled the hood off his head and yanked the gag out of his mouth. “You okay?” Leishman asked, performing a cursory check.

  “Could be worse,” Nog answered, managing a smile. “You couldn’t have just beamed me off first?”

  “’Fraid not,” she said, holding up two ripped armbands with little devices attached. Transporter scramblers, Nog guessed. She reached for the one on Nog’s arm and snapped it off as well. “You ready?” Nog nodded, and Mikaela tapped her combadge again. “Leishman to Chao. Lock onto Lieutenant Nog and beam him out.”

  He didn’t even get to say good-bye before he rematerialized in the transporter bay. Chief Chao informed the bridge that he was back aboard. Maybe he was imagining things, but Nog thought he might have heard applause.

  Suddenly Dr. Bashir was there, hauling him off the transporter pad and sitting beside him. He unfastened Nog’s restraints and checked him over to make sure he wasn’t bleeding, broken, or too badly bruised.

  “You had us worried,” Bashir said, examining his wrists and ankles. “Welcome home, Lieutenant. I wish I could let you retire to your quarters, but we’re a little shorthanded in engineering, and we still have to get out of here.”

  “What about Mikaela?” Nog cried.

  Ensign Leishman dropped into the pilot’s chair and made a cursory inspection of the controls before activating the shuttle’s sensors and computer systems. The hours she’d spent with the Avaril’ s engineering staff finally paid off. Okay little David, we’re going to make the bad guys think you’re Goliath. She took out the makeshift device Permenter had given her and plugged it into a port on the shuttle’s main console. True to Bryanne’s promise, it fit perfectly into the Yrythny system, and instantly initiated an information upload. As the “noisemaker” programming poured into the shuttle’s computer, Leishman reconfigured the navigational system, integrating a datachip that allowed the shuttle to be remote piloted from the Defiant. The download completed, she reinitialized the computer matrix. Then she thumbed the switch on the transmitter, hailing the Avaril.“Shuttle to Avaril. This is Ensign Mikaela Leishman of the U.S.S. Defiant. Do you read?”

  After a pause that was likely only seconds—but felt like minutes—the Avaril answered. “We read you.”

  “Power down primary systems, Avaril. Repeat, power down primary systems.”

  “Ensign, if you’d clarify—”

  “Scan the shuttle, Avaril. Tell me what you see.”

  Another long pause. “Powering down primary power. Thank you, Ensign.”

  She touched her combadge. “Defiant, what do you read?”

  “Nice work, Mikaela,” said Bowers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there were two Avarils out there.”

  The Cheka ought to be seriously confused by the decoy, providing the real Avaril a chance to restore their defensive capabilities. If Ston’yan decided to attack, at least the odds of the Avaril surviving had improved, though she doubted Vaughn would let it get that far. He’d draw the Ston’yan’ s fire before he allowed innocents to die.

  “Leishman to Chao. Beam me out.” She closed her eyes…

  …and opened them when she was back home. Leishman stepped off the transporter pad, nodding to Chao, who reported Leishman’s safe return to the bridge.

  She once again heard Bowers’s cool, steady voice. “Ston’yan targeting weapons.”

  “Ensign Tenmei, prepare to engage Ston’yan. Evasive maneuvers,” Vaughn barked.

  “Sir!” Bowers said. “It’s the Sagan!”

  “Shall I open a channel to Defiant—?” Shar said.

  “No!” Jeshoh touched the emitter tip of his weapon to Shar’s neck. “Proceed toward the Cheka vessel.”

  “Jeshoh, don’t do this!” Keren begged.

  “That’s odd,” Shar said, assessing the sensor data. “I’m picking up two Avarils.”

  “Why would there be two—?” Recognition dawned on Ezri. “Oh, that’s clever—Vaughn’s created a noisemaker.” She smiled, admiring the commander’s tactics.

  “Sir?” Shar said.

  “Trick the enemy’s sensors into believing that there are two ships out there. The enemy has to guess which one to hit first. The confusion buys time.”

  “Giving the Avaril time to escape,” Shar reasoned.

  Ezri nodded.

  “Approach the Cheka ship, Lieutenant,” Jeshoh ordered.

  Looking over her shoulder, Ezri recognized panic spreading over Jeshoh’s face. Should I say something…no. All his options need to be gone before he’ll budge. She nodded to Shar, who tapped in the commands to ease the Sagan toward the Cheka warship.

  “Hail them,” Vaughn ordered. What the hell does Dax think she’s doing out here?

  “They’re not answering our hails, sir,” Bowers reported.

  “Who’s on board?” Vaughn asked. He stood behind Rahim, assimilating the data as it came up on screen.

  “One Trill, one Andorian, and two Yrythny.”

  “Are all their systems operational?”

  “Yes, sir,” Bowers said. “Full shields, weapons, communications, and life support. They’ve set a course for the Ston’yan.”

  What could Dax be up to? Without knowing why the Sagan was joining them, and because the Sagan wasn’t answering their hails, he had to assume that this might not be a friendly visit. But he had to trust his senior officers to wrangle with the problem.

  “Ensign Tenmei, proceed on course zero-nine-zero mark three,” Vaughn said. “Sam, get ready to throw a punch at the Ston’yan. Just hard enough to get their attention.”

  “Aye, sir,” Sam grinned. “Preparing full spread of quantum torpedoes.”

  Rahim said, “The Cheka have fired polaron cannons on one of the Avarils, sir.”

  “They took the bait.” Vaughn expected they would. Having failed to receive their cargo from the Yrythny, they would attack. He was certain the Cheka had planned on taking out the Avaril from the onset. Many who double-cross find themselves double crossed at the end of the road. “On screen.”

  Yellow and blue light erupted as an engine core breached. The brilliant flare dissipated, providing a full frontal view of the Ston’yan.

  “Attack pattern beta, Ensign Tenmei!”

  “The Cheka have destroyed an Avaril,” Shar announced, his listeners all watching him as they awaited the verdict: “The false one.”

  Ezri wondered how much longer they could hover on the perimeter of the standoff. To this point, the Sagan didn’t pose a threat to any of the parties and was easy to ignore. With one of the pieces off the board, Ezri bet that the Cheka would come after them next—either tractor them in or blow them up. Neither option pleased her.

  “Jeshoh, what’s to say the Cheka won’t turn on you?” Keren said, reaching for him.

  He jerked away. “Because I have something they want.”

  “And Keren? If the Cheka turn on you, they turn on her,” Ezri said calmly. “You don’t want that, Jeshoh. You know you don’t. Let me open a channel to the Defiant. You and Keren can take asylum with the crew until we can negotiate with your govern—”

  “The way you negotiated the colonizing compromise?” Jeshoh snorted.

  Ezri winced inwardly. I’ve failed the Yrythny spectacularly. All the more reason I have to figure out how to make it right.

  She pressed on toward the Ston’yan.

  On approach to the warship, Ensign Prynn Tenmei decided she didn’t like the look of it. Not because she found the Cheka to be foul creatures (though she did), or because the Ston’yan appeared terribly menacing. No, Prynn felt the Cheka starship lacked panache.

  During the Dominion War, she had flown against (and admired) Jem’Hadar attack ships, Galor-class Cardassian cruisers; she’d flown in formation with Romulan warbirds and gone into battle alongside Klingon Birds-of-Prey. She might not like the Ca
rdassians’ way of doing business—or the Romulans’ and Klingons’ for that matter—but at least their empires had developed spacecraft worthy of engagement. The Ston’yan, by contrast, was a clumsy predator, more like a blind shark battering its prey with its head before moving in for the kill. No style whatsoever.

  “Ston’yan twenty-five thousand kilometers and closing,” she said.

  “Acknowledged, Ensign. Maintain course,” Vaughn said.

  Prynn hit the touchpad for navigational reference and considered the territory ahead. A wild-goose chase through one of this system’s asteroid belts might be fun. Close to the sun, maybe, or toward that gas giant…Hello? She broke into a smile when she saw the last piece of navigational data. Now that’s a nice surprise, she thought. Oh to be on the Ston’yan’s bridge when I sock this one to them. She tapped her combadge. “Conn to engineering. What’s the status on the femtobots?”

  “Untested, but ready to go,” Nog said. “We need a 30-second window to activate the system and tactical will have to power down weapons.”

  “Captain, I have an idea—but it’s risky,” Prynn said, wanting to give her father and Bowers a heads-up as to what she had in mind. “Transmitting navigational data and proposed target to your stations now. I’ll easily outfly the Ston’yan, but can we survive without weapons for half a minute?”

  “I’m game,” Bowers piped up.

  Vaughn looked up from reviewing her data. “Proceed, Ensign.”

  “Thank you sir,” Prynn said, speedily tapping the commands into the flight control panel. “Ston’yan within firing range.”

  “Fire when ready, Lieutenant,” Vaughn said.

  When Bowers let fly his spread of torpedoes, Prynn initiated evasive maneuvers. She’d covered twenty thousand kilometers before the Ston’yan caught up with the Defiant. Steady rounds firing from Cheka polaron cannons forced Prynn into a pendulum like flight pattern.

  “Avaril has regained impulse engines,” Rahim said.

  “Good. What about the Sagan?” Vaughn asked.

  The entire crew—including Prynn—hung on Rahim’s answer. The shuttle still hadn’t responded to their hails.

  “The Sagan is behind the Ston’yan. Not quite sure who they’re trying to catch up with, though, us or them.”

  * * *

  This may be a case of the inmates running the asylum, Ezri thought, plotting the Sagan’s course behind the Cheka. Far in the lead, the Defiant led the Ston’yan on a merry chase at dizzying speeds. Prynn must be in her glory.

  Incredulous, Keren asked, “What are we doing?”

  “We need to keep up with the Cheka. We still have what they want. And they have what we want.”

  “Listen to yourself, Jeshoh!” Keren protested.

  He turned away, unmoved by her pleas.

  To Ezri’s side, Shar blanched pale blue. “The Cheka are releasing a wake of mines. Boosting shields.”

  “Taking evasive maneuvers,” Ezri barked. Sagan veered to port, avoiding a mine aimed for starboard only to fly straight toward another. An explosion rocked the shuttle.

  Ezri heard the dull crunch of flesh against metal; Keren cried out.

  “Jeshoh!” Ezri shouted. “Help her, dammit!” She fought the instinct to abandon the conn and rush back to tend to the wounded Yrythny.

  “Shields at seventy percent,” Shar said, his antennae rigid with tension. “The Defiant appears to be going in close to this system’s star. Sagan isn’t designed to withstand—”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ezri saw Keren slumped on the floor; she groaned, twisting her head from side to side as delirium overtook her.

  “Shar, check on Keren.”

  “But the shields—”

  “That’s an order, Ensign.”

  Shar jumped up from his station, went for a medical kit, and started passing a tricorder over Keren. Jeshoh, still clutching his weapon, stood statue still, shell-shocked and pale.

  “Change your mind, Jeshoh,” Ezri said calmly. Don’t let him see your fear.“It’s not too late.”

  “No!” he despaired. His eyes dropped to the floor where Keren had fallen into unconsciousness.

  “Ensign Tenmei, move into the final phase,” Vaughn ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” For her plan to work, Prynn needed to keep the Ston’yan off its guard long enough that they wouldn’t have time to back out of her trap. Considering what she had to work with, she decided on playing chicken with the Cheka around the star. Let’s see what your ship is made of, Prynn thought.

  “Ston’yan closing,” Rahim said.

  Plunging toward the sun’s corona, she faked to port, before peeling out abruptly to starboard. In following the Defiant’ s port-side fake, the Ston’yan cooked its underbelly. Prynn eluded their fire for a few more minutes, buying her the time she needed to set up the last leg of the chase.

  “Ston’yan still in pursuit with weapons off-line,” Bowers said. “Correction, Ston’yan weapons are back on-line and attempting to lock onto us.”

  “Target destination in fifty seconds,” Permenter said. “Twenty seconds until femtobot shield augmentation activated.”

  The Defiant shuddered.

  “Direct hit. Shields at sixty-five percent,” Bowers reported.

  Permenter looked at Tenmei. “The femtobot augmentation can be activated all the way down to fifty percent, but I strongly suggest we try not to put that to the test.”

  “Course locked in,” Prynn said. “Here we go.”

  Though still hot on the Cheka’s tail, Ezri eavesdropped on Shar’s medical explanations to Jeshoh, discovering she had a new problem.

  “According to my scans,” Shar said, “she has a subdural hemotoma. A blood bruise on the brain. I could attempt to treat her, but my paramedic training is limited, and I fear I don’t know enough about Yrythny blood chemistry.” His tone wasn’t hopeful.

  His calm evaporating, Jeshoh slammed a fist into a compartment.

  “We can help her, Jeshoh,” Ezri said. “Dr. Bashir on the Defiant is one of the finest medical practitioners you could ask for, and he has a fully equipped medical bay. He’ll stabilize her until we can get her to your people.”

  “No!” he shouted, breathing ragged. “We’ll never be together if we go back now.”

  Ezri said simply, “If we don’t go back, she’ll die.”

  “You don’t know that! Shar, treat her now,” Jeshoh snapped, pacing the small compartment like a caged animal.

  This has gone on as long as I can allow, Ezri thought.

  “Help Keren,” she whispered gruffly. Her body was perilously close to caving in to stress; her shoulders ached from sitting, tightly wound, for so long. Fatigue and hunger would soon blur her ability to focus and if her calculations were right, in less than a minute, all the rules of this fight would change again. She dared to glance away from the flight controls to meet Jeshoh’s eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Do this for her. I’ve watched you stand against your leaders, your culture—all because you believed in doing the right thing. You know what you have to do, Jeshoh. Do it now.”

  “Thirty seconds. Activating shield augmentation,” Permenter said.

  “Ston’yan one thousand kilometers and closing,” Bowers reported. “Weapons charging.”

  Trusting that her crewmates would back her up, Prynn drifted into a mental place where the conn became an extension of her fingers, responding instantaneously to her thoughts. Just a little closer…. The bridge crew snapped reports back and forth. Prynn ignored them. Almost there…we should be crossing the threshold…. NOW.

  A blinding, brilliant flash consumed the darkness. Prynn pulled all the power she could from the engines, determined to fly through the descending web weapon’s net. The tactical readout confirmed that the Ston’yan had been caught in the weapon’s perimeter. For one terrifying moment, she wondered if the Cheka had friend-or-foe technology that would allow them to escape, but she had to hope that overconfidence would be their downfall.

  �
�It’s working,” Bowers said. “The femtobots are preventing the nanobots from penetrating the ship!”

  “We aren’t out of the woods, yet,” Vaughn cautioned. “Keep it together, Ensign Tenmei.”

  Because the Ston’yan remained tight on the Defiant’s heels, Prynn wasn’t sure the web weapon had caught their pursuer. In one last evasive tactic, Prynn piloted the Defiant into a sharp seventy-five degree pull-up, banking in front of the Cheka ship, flipping over and flying back the direction they’d come, over the top of the Ston’yan.

  “The web got them!” Bowers shouted. “Ston’yan is no longer in pursuit.”

  “Status of the femtobots?” Vaughn asked.

  “It worked,” Permenter confirmed. “Nanobots were all neutralized.”

  Prynn’s elation enhanced the adrenaline coursing through her veins. What a rush.

  “Sir,” said Bowers “the Sagan is hailing us. Audio only.”

  “Put them through.”

  “Defiant, this is Lieutenant Dax. Permission to bring in the Sagan.”

  “By all means, Lieutenant. Bring her home.”

  Julian raced into the shuttlebay, eager to be the first to greet the Sagan. Impatience wasn’t his usual style, but he needed to know that Ezri was all right.

  The shuttle doors hissed open with Shar jumping out first, standing aside while two Yrythny exited; the tall, handsomely dressed male cradled an unconscious female in his arms. All three passengers trudged toward him as if heavily burdened.

  “Doctor,” Shar called. “We have a medical emergency.”

  Thoughts of Ezri temporarily forgotten, Julian pulled out his medical tricorder and scanned the wounded Yrythny. “We’ll need to operate. It may take me a few minutes to synthesize her blood, but she should be fine,” he said to the Yrythny he now recognized as Jeshoh. “Shar, take our guests to sickbay. I’ll be right behind you.” Tapping his combadge he said, “Bashir to Richter. Prep for surgery. We have a Yrythny with a subdural hemotoma. I’ll be there presently.”