Star Trek - DS9 Relaunch 04 - Gateways - 4 of 7 - Demons Of Air And Darkness

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  "We need to be near an outer bulkhead. The inner sections of the ship are shielded against transporters."

  "Why not just go to the ship's transporter?"

  "Because then there'll be a record, and they'll know where we went."

  "Oh."

  Ro bent over and took the Orions' disruptors. She stuck one in the waistband of her slitted pants and handed the other to Quark.

  The Ferengi looked at it as if it were someone ask­ing for a handout. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

  "Take a guess."

  Reluctantly, Quark took it. Since it was of Klingon design, it didn't have a safety, so Quark handled it as if he feared the slightest touch would trigger it.

  While Quark weighed the risk of putting the weapon in his jacket against holding it and acciden­tally blasting a hole in the bulkhead, Ro took a mo­ment to admonish him. "Oh, and by the way, the reason it took me a minute to throw the flare is be­cause I frankly didn't expect you to cave in so easily."

  "What're you talking about? I was following the terms of Matte's oral agreement. Malic said to tell the truth or die, so I told the truth."

  Ro shot him a dubious look.

  Quark sighed. "Fifteenth Rule of Acquisition, Laren: 'Dead men close no deals.' It's not my fault that Malic changed the terms of the deal at the last minute and decided to kill me anyhow."

  They turned a corner. A turbolift door opened on an Orion male, escorting a scantily clad Orion fe­male. The female—who was a full head taller than the male—was practically draped all over him. She wore what appeared to be rags, but Quark recognized the custom tailoring at work. Obviously the male has a thing for women in dirty rags and she's dressing for the part.

  At the sight of Ro's disruptor, the male screamed, which surprised Quark—he'd expected the scream from the female.

  "Back inside," Ro snarled.

  The female quickly backed into the turbolift. The male just stood there, screaming. He was worse than the alarms.

  "Stop," Ro said, putting the disruptor to the Orion's head, "screaming."

  The male fell silent and went into the turbolift. He did blubber a bit, though.

  Once the doors closed, Ro said, 'Take us to deck seventy-one."

  Quark frowned, confused—then he remembered that the ship's computer would probably only accept commands from certain Orion males. No female, and no Ferengi—not even one working for the Orions— would have access.

  At first, the male didn't reply, busy as he was with his blubbering. Ro again put the disruptor to his head. "D-d-d-d-d-deck seventy-one," he finally said.

  The turbolift moved. As it did, Ro removed another of her tassels. There was a small button on it, which she pressed.

  "What's that do?" Quark asked.

  "Scattering field. It should block any attempts the Orions make to divert the turbolift."

  "Should?"

  Ro shrugged. "If this were an ordinary Vulcan ship, it would, but I don't know what kind of modifications they made."

  Soon, the question was academic. They arrived on deck seventy-one—the ship's lowermost deck—and the doors opened.

  Half a dozen Orions were waiting for them.

  Ro immediately put the disruptor to the female's neck. "Let us go or the slave gets it."

  "Are you insane?" Quark whispered. "She's just a female."

  Snarling, one of the Orions said, "Lower your weapons."

  Slowly, and to Quark's abject shock, the Orions did so.

  "Try anything," Ro said, "and I blow her pretty head off, understood?"

  "Just don't hurt her," the Orion said.

  Ro moved down the corridor, guiding the female in front of her with the disruptor, still at her neck, and pulling the male along behind her. Quark followed be­hind the male.

  As soon as they got close to the Orions—who parted to let them pass—Ro tossed the male in the di­rection of three of the Orions.

  One of them immediately punched Ro's former hostage in the gut. "Alhan, you idiot!" another one said. "How could you let Treir be captured like that?"

  Alhan was unable to reply, as he was too busy coughing up blood.

  Quark quickly followed Ro and Treir. Now he un­derstood Ro's logic—Treir was valuable merchandise. The Orions couldn't afford for her to be harmed. Alhan, on the other hand, was just another Orion male, and by allowing himself to be captured, his value to his fellows had plummeted to nothing. Once again, he ad­mired Ro's grasp of business matters. So rare to find a female who understands—especially a female Bajoran.

  From behind him, Quark heard one of the Orions' voices. "Malic, they've got Trek." A pause. "I know she's not to be harmed, but they're going to get away."

  They turned a corner, out of sight of the Orions. Quark could still hear the Orion talking to Malic.

  "All right," the Orion was saying as Ro stopped walking and—still holding the disruptor to Treir's neck—removed the last two tassels from her waist. She threw the first one back around the comer toward the Orions. The one speaking to Malic was suddenly cut off by a noise that sounded to Quark like five phasers firing at once.

  Then silence.

  "What was that?"

  "Concussive grenade. Should keep those six out for a while."

  "You couldn't do that before he told Malic we were here?"

  As she pressed a control on the final tassel, which caused its base to split open, Ro said, "You really can be a whiner, can't you? We had to get out of range."

  Ro removed a Bajoran communicator from inside the tassel and tapped it.

  As soon as she did, the corridor shimmered, faded, and re-formed into the flight deck of a small spacecraft

  of Bajoran design. About the size of a small Starfleet shuttlecraft, the ship seated two fore and two aft.

  A Bajoran woman in a red Militia uniform and with the rank insignia of a sergeant vacated the pilot's seat "Who's your friend, Lieutenant?"

  "She was a hostage," Ro said, removing the disrup­tor from the woman's neck. "Luckily, they didn't call my bluff when I said I'd blow her head off."

  Treir, for her part, had kept a remarkably calm ex­pression on her face from the moment she first saw Ro with the disruptor. Once she dropped out of the role of being Alhan's lover, her face had gone surpris­ingly neutral.

  Quark asked, "Where are we?"

  "A Bajoran Militia flitter," the sergeant said.

  "I know it's a Bajoran Militia flitter," Quark said impatiently. "I mean where?"

  "Farius Prime's innermost moon." Ro touched the flame gem on her necklace. Her hair returned to its natural black color. "Ychell Mafon, this is Quark— Quark, this is Sergeant Ychell. I had her hide out here as our escape route."

  "Nice of you to tell me ahead of time," Quark mut­tered.

  "Don't push it, Quark, or so help me—"

  Quark rolled his eyes and shut up.

  Turning to Treir, Ro said, "As for you—you're free to come with us. You can start over in the Federation or on Bajor. You don't have to be a slave anymore."

  Treir smiled. "Did it even occur to you that I liked being a slave?"

  Ro blinked. "Honestly? No, it didn't."

  "You're lucky, then, that I didn't. On the other

  hand, no one ever gave me a choice in the matter. Be­sides, Malic treated me very well."

  "Well, Malic doesn't own you anymore."

  Again, Treir smiled, this time a wry one. "Malic may have something to say about that."

  Ro settled into the pilot's seat. "He has to find us first." She indicated the two rear seats. "Get in the back. You too, Quark. We need to get back to DS9."

  "What's the point?" Quark asked, taking his seat. "I'm doomed anyhow. You may as well give me back to the Orions."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You heard Malic. All it takes is one command into his padd, and Garak will know all about my role in that land deal."

  Ro reached behind her back and took something out from under the rear part of
her waistband. She smiled broadly. "You mean this padd?"

  Quark saw fighting Aldebaran serpents and a nude Orion woman. His mouth fell open.

  So did Trek's, but unlike Quark, she was still able to formulate words. "That's Malic's padd! How did you—T

  "I grabbed it out of his pocket when I knocked him down in the meeting room. Not only are you safe from the Orions, Quark, but I'm betting there's enough information in this thing to bring Malic down—and maybe the whole syndicate."

  A huge sense of relief spread over Quark. "So Garak won't find out?"

  "Well, I never said that."

  Quark eyes went wide. But before he could pursue the matter, Ychell announced, "Lieutenant, the Orion

  ship has started a search pattern. They're going to find us soon. We need to get out of here. I've got a course set for that hole that your transport came through— the one that goes to the Claras system."

  "Let's do it," Ro said, getting into the pilot's seat. She touched a few controls, then turned back to Quark and smiled. "I wonder if Malic made a copy ..."

  Quark felt his lobes shrivel.

  14

  THE DELTA QUADRANT

  "they were diverting prey."

  The giant indicated the fallen aliens with one gauntleted hand. Kira looked once again at the three butchered corpses she shared the floor with. Diverting wasn't the first word that came to mind. It was possi­ble, of course, that these aliens were tougher than they looked, but Kira couldn't imagine they were so vi­cious that it was necessary to slaughter mem.

  "But only just," the being amended. "It was then-ship that was the true enemy. I had hoped that a vessel capable of withstanding an attack such as mine and causing my own vessel's destruction would be crewed by the worthiest prey."

  That explains the debris, Kira thought.

  He started to pace around the bridge. "Instead, I found them to be soft and weak. Not worthy of a hunt." The creature pounded a fist on a nearby con­sole, denting the metal. "My ship was destroyed. My trophies, my weapons, my life—all of it wiped away by these insignificant creatures."

  "They were fighting for their lives, what do you ex­pect?" Kira found herself saying.

  As if she hadn't spoke, the alien went on. "After I killed them all, I waited. I knew this ship would not stay unmolested for long—not with such volatile cargo. So I awaited fresh prey." He once again looked down at Kira. "Then you came."

  "You tie up all your prey before you 'hunt' them?" Kira mocked, testing her bonds. "Some predator."

  The insult slid right past the alien. "No, you are bait. Just as this ship sat idle as a lure, so will you."

  "A lure for what?" Kira asked angrily, already knowing the answer.

  "The other one. I beamed two over from your ship, but only one is here. The other one is somewhere on the ship. Eventually it will show itself."

  Taran'atar, Kira thought. He must've shrouded when we were beamed off the Euphrates. Jem'Hadar were born with the ability to cloak themselves, rendering them invisible both to the naked eye and most scans. The ability required most of their concentration, which meant they couldn't actually fight while shrouded. Kira hoped Taran'atar was scouting the ship, then wait­ing for the right moment to attack. "You're wasting your time," she said. "He's probably long gone."

  "He's near," the hunter said with certainty. "I can feel it in the— Ooof!"

  That last word was spoken as he was tackled from behind by Taran'atar, who solidified half a second be­fore striking.

  While both aliens crashed against the deck and began struggling for the upper hand, Kira managed to roll over to a nearby console. Bracing her back against it, she pushed herself upward to get into a crouching position, and then stood upright, quickly taking stock of her surroundings.

  The room, which she assumed was the tanker's bridge, had two entrances—one, a closed door on the far side, the other, an open hallway right behind her.

  A very large handheld weapon, easily twice the size of a Starfleet phaser rifle, was lying on the deck be­yond the combatants, out of her reach. Not that I could use it with my hands tied behind my back, but...

  The alien had gained the advantage, pinning Taran'atar to the deck. Kira saw an opportunity and sprang forward, pivoting on her left leg, spinning and landing a kick to the alien's helmeted head.

  Her teeth clenched. It was like kicking a stone wall, and she suspected only her boot's padding kept her from breaking her foot.

  It did, however, surprise the alien enough so that Taran'atar could fling him off. The alien crashed against a instrument panel, sending sparks flying. The Jem'Hadar leapt and stood in front of Kira, deliber­ately placing himself between her and their foe.

  The alien slowly rose and faced them. Now that they were all standing up, Kira saw that the self-styled hunter was indeed tall, but not quite the giant she had thought him to be—Kira estimated he was a bit more than two meters in height.

  The alien smiled in a manner that reminded Kira far too much of Dukat. "At last," he rumbled. "Worthy prey."

  To Kira's annoyance, Taran'atar had thrown the alien closer to where his rifle lay. If he grabbed it while they were in the room, they were dead.

  "Move!" she barked, leading Taran'atar to the open hallway behind them.

  Without a instant's hesitation, Taran'atar followed.

  "I had the chance to explore this deck before I at­tacked the Hirogen," the Jem'Hadar said as they ran side by side down the corridor.

  So that's what he's called. "Fine, take point."

  He led them through a maze of corridors. Every­where they went, Kira found more bodies like the three on the bridge: gold-skinned, wearing the bulky uniform, and bleeding from dozens of wounds each.

  Taran'atar led them into what appeared to be a maintenance tunnel. He shut the hatch and locked it, showing an impressive aptitude for equipment he'd never seen before today.

  Once the door closed, Kira turned around. "Can you do something about these bonds?"

  Taking Kira's wrists in his scaly hands, Taran'atar said, "I believe so. This may hurt."

  "Just do it."

  Taran'atar grabbed the bonds, the sides of his hands pressing up against Kira's wrists. He pulled for sev­eral seconds. She gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her shoulders as the bonds finally gave in to the Jem'Hadar's strength, and her arms were suddenly wrenched apart.

  She flexed her shoulders. "Thanks. Now then, you obviously know who this guy is."

  "I know of the species from an encounter a Jem'Hadar unit had with a Hirogen ship several hun­dred years ago. Back then, they were nomadic hunters with an impressive level of technology."

  "Judging from what I've seen and heard, I'd say they still are," Kira said. "I take it from the way you shut the door so easily that you had a chance to exam­ine some of the snip's systems?"

  "Those that still function, yes. It did not take long, as very few of the systems are functioning at all. Propul­sion, weapons, and tractor beams are inoperative."

  "So we can't try to draw the waste back into the cargo hold?"

  "No, Colonel."

  Kira pounded the bulkhead with a fist. "Dammit!" She reached for her phaser—and found that it wasn't there. "I don't remember him taking my weapon."

  "He didn't. My rifle didn't materialize with me when we were taken to this ship. Our energy weapons are either still on the Euphrates or dispersed."

  Kira tapped her badge. "Kira to Euphrates. Com­puter, two to transport to the runabout."

  The computer's voice was barely audible through a burst of static. "Unable to comply due to theta radia­tion interference."

  Kira muttered an Old High Bajoran curse that her brother Reon had taught her when they were kids. "Computer, scan this vessel. Is there anywhere aboard we can go where the interference is weak enough so transporters can penetrate?"

  "Negative"

  She thought a moment. Obviously the transporters on this ship could penetrate the theta radia
tion, other­wise the Hirogen could never have beamed them over. Besides, these people had reason to make their trans­porters more resistant to radiation interference than Starfleet ever did, if they lived with this toxicity every day. "Can you locate the transporters here?"

  "Affirmative."

  Kira looked around. There were no working termi­nals, and she didn't have a tricorder. "Locate the near­est one to these coordinates."

  "The nearest transporter to your location is in the fore section of deck twelve."

  "And where are we right now?" Kira asked impa­tiently.

  "In the middle section of deck two."

  "Can you read any life-forms aboard this vessel?"

  "Life-sign scan inconclusive. Two life-forms are as­sumed based on combadge signals of Colonel Kira Nerys and Toran "atar."

  Kira repeated the curse, and cut off the transmis­sion. Then she looked at Taran'atar. "Do you still have your kar'takin?"

  "Yes." Taran'atar reached behind his back and un­sheathed the thin-bladed weapon that Jem'Hadar gen­erally carried as backups in case their energy weapons failed or were sabotaged.

  "Good. We don't have any way to track the Hi­rogen—and he's a trained hunter. Do you know any way to go down ten decks from here?"

  "No," Taran'atar said, "but I believe it should not be difficult to find one. With respect, Colonel, I should take the point."

  Kira was unaccustomed to letting others put them­selves in danger on her behalf. Unfortunately, in this particular instance, Taran'atar was the only one who was armed. "After you."

  Taran'atar led them down the corridor, his kar'takin held in a defensive position. Kira followed close be­hind, feeling naked without a weapon. No rifle, no hand phaser, not even a blade. Hell, at this point, I'd take a club.

  Finding access to the lower levels proved easier than she expected; they discovered a narrow, vertical shaft that was propped open by the corpse of one of the tanker crew.

  "Were you able to find any working terminals?" Kira asked as she and Taran'atar moved the body out of their way and onto the deck. "Find out who these people are?"

  "No."

  Shaking her head as she peered into the shaft, she said, "It's ironic. When we first arrived, I wanted to kill these people. Now that they're dead—I actually feel sorry for them." A ladder on the far wall of the shaft went up one level to deck one, and went down farther than Kira's eyes could see. The shaft was illu­minated only with the same dim green lights that the rest of this deck was bathed in.