Strange New Worlds VIII

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Riker stared at her, clearly evaluating his options. Time was running out.

  Dax interrupted them. “The Vexon is hailing us.”

  “Tom, give me back my ship.”

  He stood up and stepped away from the chair. “For now.”

  Kira took the seat. “Jadzia, set course to zero-seven-two mark seven. Tom, take tactical. Target weapons only.”

  They exchanged another hard look, then Riker crossed the bridge, taking the seat at tactical. “They’re powering weapons.”

  “Prepare to return fire.” She added, “On my command only.”

  Riker glared over his shoulder. “Aye . . . Captain.”

  Kira ignored him. Her attention was on the two mud brown ships facing them. Under Dax’s steady hand the Defiant slid smoothly to port. The Cardassian ships moved to track them.

  “They’re splitting up,” Dax said. “Moving to pin us down in a crossfire.”

  “The Vexon’s firing!”

  Its port wing phasers glowed. An amber beam knifed across the expanse of space. The Defiant shook from the impact, but the shields absorbed the blast.

  “Shields holding.”

  “Return fire!” Kira shouted. “Target their port phasers. Dax, full impulse, heading three-two-seven mark four.”

  The Defiant swept past the Vexon.

  Riker’s aim was true. Their phasers stitched the port wing. The Vexon’s shields flared green. The enemy ship dipped and slid offscreen.

  “Their port shields are down by thirty-two percent,” O’Brien called out.

  “Bring us around for another pass,” Kira ordered.

  Onscreen, both ships fell out of view. The stars whizzed past as Dax brought them hard around. The Vexon suddenly reappeared in front of them. “Tom, lock on to their port disruptors. Full phaser spread followed by two quantum torpedoes.”

  “Firing!”

  The starboard phasers sliced across the Vexon’s port wing. The shields glowed bright green, struggling to absorb the intense energy blasts. Then they collapsed.

  Riker cut the phasers and launched the number-one and number-four torpedoes.

  The unprotected wing exploded. The Vexon bucked. A series of explosions cascaded across the damaged wing, tearing it from the main body of the ship. The Vexon dived.

  “They’re out of the fight,” Riker said.

  His assessment proved to be premature. Before slipping out of range completely, the Vexon let loose a final torpedo volley.

  Dax tried but couldn’t avoid them. The torpedoes slammed into the Defiant, causing the ship to catapult up. The deck plating under the viewscreen erupted. The science-station console exploded.

  Kerrigan was flung from the seat, screaming. His face covered with first- and second-degree burns, he lay on the deck. Drake and the Bajoran woman rushed to him, knelt down by his side.

  “Starboard shields are down,” O’Brien called out. “We’ve got a hull fracture on deck two.”

  “All right,” Kira shouted over the alarms. “Enough of this. Chief, activate the cloak. Dax, prepare to take us to warp.”

  “Uh, Major.”

  She spun to face O’Brien.

  “The cloak is down.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe it. “I thought you were making that up.”

  “I was, but that last blast did damage the power relays. Now the cloak really is fried.”

  Dax turned around. “And I’ve got more bad news. The warp drive’s offline too.”

  Kira pounded the arm of the chair. “Damn.”

  Another alarm sounded. This one was a steady shrill piercing through the intermittent warble of the red-alert sirens. “Now what?”

  “Three more Cardassian ships approaching,” Dax told her. “Another Galor-class and two Hideki-class patrol ships.”

  “Well, Tom, you got what you wanted,” Kira said. “You get to die fighting the Cardassians in a useless, hopeless battle people will talk about for years to come.”

  “I told you, I’m not on some suicide mission, Major.” He got up and crossed over to the helm. Standing next to Dax, he entered something into the navigational system. “And I’m not about to give up yet.”

  Kira glanced at the coordinates lighting up on her own computer console. They meant nothing special to her. The location they designated was outside Cardassian space and close to the Badlands.

  “Dax, head for those coordinates.” To Kira, he said, “I had a lot of time to think about things you told me, about what it meant to be a terrorist, about inflicting maximum damage.”

  “What’s that got to do with this?” Kira looked over at Dax. “At full impulse can we reach those coordinates ahead of the Cardassians?”

  The tall Trill shrugged. “We might’ve caught a break. It looks like the Vexon had to eject their warp core. The others are moving in to establish rescue operations.”

  Kira faced Riker. “Before I agree, I want to know what’s waiting for us there.”

  “Help. Maquis help.”

  Kira took the time to consider this. Joining up with Maquis ships, even to defend themselves, would be interpreted by the Cardassians as collusion between the Maquis and Starfleet. She couldn’t allow that. Nor could she allow the Defiant to fall into Maquis hands. She would destroy it first.

  Yet to stay there and fight was out of the question. She made her decision. “Do it, Dax. Chief, I need all available power.”

  “I’ll give you what I’ve got, Major.”

  They went to work.

  Kira eyed Riker. “You had this set up the whole time.”

  “A contingency plan,” he admitted. “One of many. I had a lot of time to work them out.”

  “Who’s waiting for us?”

  “I told you, the Maquis.” He hesitated. “And the Klingons.”

  Kira sat bolt upright. “The Klingons!”

  “The Maquis have agreed to join their fight against the Cardassians. Our goals are the same.”

  Kira leaned back. “I’d say your ability to gather intelligence was a little better than you said.”

  Riker gave her a small but humorless grin. “A little.”

  “We’re coming up on the coordinates now,” Dax announced.

  Kira and Riker both looked to the screen.

  “Cardassians?” Kira strummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.

  “On their way. Closing fast,” said Dax.

  “Chief, start diverting power to the shields.” Kira glanced up at the screen. “I don’t see anyone. Dax, anything on long-range sensors?”

  She shook her head. “Just the Cardassians.”

  “Tom?”

  The lines around his eyes deepened; concern crossed his face. He took a step toward the viewscreen. “I don’t understand it. They were supposed to be—”

  “Major, a ship is decloaking off the port bow,” O’Brien called out. “Wait a bloody minute. Make that ships.”

  “All stop!” Kira shouted.

  The Defiant bucked under her. The inertial dampeners struggled to keep up with the sudden change. Riker grabbed the command chair. The others were forced forward in their own seats.

  By the time the dampeners caught up, everyone was staring at the viewscreen. The starscape in front of them rippled; then, as if they were looking through a pool of water, a half-dozen Klingon Vor’cha- and K’t’inga-class ships shimmered into view. Centered in the flotilla was a single Maquis raider.

  “Good God,” O’Brien breathed.

  “We’re being hailed, Major,” Dax said. “It’s the raider.”

  Kira recovered enough to come to her feet. “On screen.”

  The interior of the raider was dark. Only shadowy glimpses of people moving back and forth among the dimly lit consoles could be seen. The single figure of a Bajoran woman stepped forward, out of the shadows. She was clad in the standard nondescript attire of the Maquis resistance. She wore a hand phaser strapped to her right hip and a ceremonial Bajoran dagger on her left. Kira had never met the wo
man, but her reputation was well known, by both Starfleet and the Bajoran people.

  “Ro Laren.”

  “Thank you for speaking with me, Major Kira.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “Not much of one.” Ro glanced offscreen. “Our scans indicate your cloak is offline and your warp drive is down.”

  “Nothing we can’t fix. What do you want, Ro?”

  “What we’ve always wanted. What Tom Riker set out to take a year and a half ago. The Defiant.”

  Riker stepped up next to Kira. “Plan’s changed, Ro.”

  Ro furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”

  Riker looked at Ro. “Look at your sensors. There are four Cardassian ships heading this way; probably more right behind them. The way she is now, the Defiant’s useless to us.”

  “And I’ll die before I hand her over to you.” Kira turned to O’Brien. “Charge weapons. Target the raider.”

  The chief jumped to the secondary tactical station, next to his engineering console.

  Ro watched through narrowed eyes. “You’re bluffing. You won’t sacrifice your crew, your ship—”

  “Try me.”

  “Weapons charged and locked,” O’Brien called out.

  Ro dropped back into her seat. “Shields!”

  “Nerys! Ro! Wait!” Riker looked from Kira to Ro and back again. “It’s not worth it. Not worth the lives of forty Starfleet personnel, sixty-seven civilians.”

  “Then stop it, Tom. Here! Now!”

  Kira glanced at her console readouts. The Klingon ships had their shields raised too. They were powering weapons. On the navigational board she saw the approaching Cardassian ships. They would be within weapons range in less than ninety seconds. All hell was about to break loose.

  “Make a decision, Tom.”

  He looked around the bridge. Bulkheads were scorched from the recent fighting. Kerrigan sat with a makeshift bandage over his burned face and hands. The air was thick; it was like breathing fire.

  “What about all this?”

  Kira followed his gaze. “You’ll have to answer charges. Face a Federation trial for both attempts to steal the Defiant.”

  “The others—they’re not responsible for this.” He grabbed Kira’s shoulder. “They’ve already paid a terrible price at the hands of the Cardassians.”

  “I think,” she hesitated. “I think some things could be overlooked.”

  “All right. It’s over.”

  “No!” Ro was on her feet. “We worked too hard for this, Riker. With the Klingons’ help we’ve got the Cardassians on the run.”

  “All the more reason we don’t need the Defiant anymore. It’s done, Ro.”

  He crossed over to Kerrigan and the other prisoners. One by one he collected their weapons. Coming back to Kira, he said, “No charges against any of the others. Your word?”

  She nodded. “My word.”

  “I know I can count on that.” When he was within arm’s reach, he grabbed her and spun her around, placing a phaser to her head. It was set to kill.

  O’Brien and Dax jumped to their feet.

  Riker backed toward the access door. “I’ll do it.”

  They stopped.

  “I can’t go back,” he whispered in Kira’s ear. “I can’t go to prison again. Not even a Federation one.”

  “I’ll—”

  “No! O’Brien, drop the shields.”

  “Don’t do it, Miles,” Kira said.

  “Do it or she’s dead.” Riker sounded desperate enough to do it.

  O’Brien turned, his fingers danced over the touchscreen. “They’re down.”

  “Ro, prepare to beam me over. Only me. Is that understood?”

  She nodded, then nodded again to someone offscreen.

  “Nerys, I really am sorry.” Riker shoved her away. “Ro! Now!”

  Kira stumbled, turned. She rushed back at him but was too late. His form shimmered brightly, faded, and was gone. She spun on O’Brien. “Get him back!”

  “Too late. They’ve already raised shields.”

  On the viewscreen she saw Riker materialize. Ro stepped out of his way. He approached the viewscreen until his features filled it.

  “You were good to your word, Major. Much more than I’ve been. For that, I’m sorry.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “I can’t tell you how much I wish things could have turned out differently for us, Nerys. During all of my time down there I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I couldn’t think of anything but you. I . . . I just thought you should know. I’m sorry, Nerys.”

  She said nothing. What could she say?

  “The Cardassians are within weapons range,” Dax called out, looking from the screen to Kira.

  Riker’s eyes flashed to something that was offscreen. Then he returned his gaze to Kira. For her, everything else faded out of existence at that moment. “We’ve got enough firepower to keep the Cardies busy until you’re out of harm’s way. I’ll make sure they know Starfleet and the Federation had nothing to do with this. That’s a promise . . . for what it’s worth. Good-bye, Nerys.”

  He cut the transmission.

  Returned to the viewscreen was the Klingon flotilla. The ships started to move off, preparing to engage the enemy in what was sure to be a glorious battle. The raider banked to starboard.

  Kira lowered herself into the command chair. Would today be a good day to die? she wondered.

  To Dax, she said, “Get us the hell out of here.”

  Her voice barely above a whisper, not meant to be heard by anyone, she said, “Good-bye, Tom Riker.”

  Always a Price

  Muri McCage

  “Hold it right there, Colonel!”

  Kira really thought she’d made it. Three steps more and she could have entered the holosuite without incident. Who am I kidding? Of course he’d hear me . . . with those ears.

  Turning, one hand on the stair rail, she looked down at her tormentor. “What do you want, Quark? I’m in a hurry.”

  “Quite a gift you’ve got there, for sneaking and hurrying at the same time.” The snaggletoothed Ferengi smirked at her, with his face and his voice. “How about giving lessons? I’m sure we could work out an arrangement.”

  “Arrangement?” Kira laughed in his face. “I assume you mean I do all the work, get paid nicely for it, and you take most of said pay in commissions.”

  “Of course. Business is business, Colonel.” He boldly thrust out an open palm. “Speaking of which, pay or leave.”

  “Give it a rest, Quark. I’m just going to speak with Vic for a second.”

  The large knobbly Ferengi head shook decisively. “Not a chance. How do you think I can stay in business, if I don’t charge for holosuite time?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, frankly.”

  That shut him up for about five seconds.

  “Be that as it may, I have a living to make. Holosuite time is part of that business. You should know better than most, Colonel; there’s always a price. Ferengi Rule of Acquisition Number 43.”

  An exasperated sigh huffed out of her. “All right, then. Put it on my account.”

  “No credit. Things are too uncertain these days.”

  “You—” She interrupted herself in order to try to get a grip on her rising anger. “What do you expect me to do? Pay you in blood?”

  “How about a barter?”

  “Ferengi barter?”

  “Sure, if the exchange is good enough.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Oh, nothing much . . . ”

  “Quark . . . ” she started in a warning tone.

  “Let’s just say you’ll owe me one.”

  “One what?”

  “You’ll know when I know.” He was positively oozing smirk by this point.

  “If I agree, will you shut up, get off these stairs, and leave me alone? All day?”

  “Ferengi’s honor.”

  If he crossed his heart, or saluted, or anything at all,
she’d march down there and step on his head. Kira was almost disappointed when the annoying little thorn in her side scampered away. Then she was confused when she caught the words that drifted out in his wake.

  “Tell him he owes me one, too.”

  * * *

  Vic’s place was an oasis of calm after the disturbing little interlude she’d just escaped. Kira drifted inside, looking around at the familiar furnishings and taking in the ambience that brought her so many bittersweet memories. She was letting her fingertips wander over the piano keys, enjoying the distracting tinkle of sounding and fading notes, and did not notice Vic standing at her side.

  “Hello, dollface.”

  She jumped, and automatically scolded him, just as she would any of her other friends. “Don’t sneak up on a person like that.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t scare that easily. You really should program in some pattering footsteps or something, though.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” The charming hologram smiled, obviously enjoying their banter. “So you got my message.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He looked her up and down approvingly. “You certainly are!”

  “You’re incorrigible, Vic.” There was always that moment she experienced, when the reality of the nature of his existence clashed with his irrefutable sentience. A little shiver cascaded down Kira’s spine, but she shook it off and got back to the business at hand. “You said it was urgent.”

  “It is.”

  He handed her a padd.

  Taking the small device, she glanced at the screen, scrolled down a bit, then looked up to meet his mischievous gaze. “What’s this?”

  “Coordinates.”

  “Yes, I gathered that much. I may be overworked these days, but I can still recognize coordinates to a wilderness area on Bajor when necessary.”

  “Glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want you going soft.”

  She decided to ignore his gentle teasing. “So what am I supposed to do with them?”

  “Go there.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “Care to tell me why?”

  “Sure. I’d love to.”

  A longish silence tried her patience, almost as badly as Quark’s attitude had tested her anger threshold. “Well?”