Station Rage

by Diane Carey

  "He could've flushed the atmosphere out of these areas any time," Sisko said, tilting the subject in another direction. "But he didn't. Why didn't he?"

  Kira paused to think. "Because they want us alive for some reason. We're valuable. Maybe hostages?"

  "Maybe," Sisko said.

  They all looked to their collective right as sounds scratched in the open tube leading to the rest of the station. Odo's masklike face appeared, his skin like melting candlewax, blue eyes dull and exhausted as he peered through.

  How strange … Kira drew a sharp breath and found her stare drawn to him and she couldn't look away. He wasn't humanoid, this form was artificial, yet his fatigue was showing itself on the canvas of his mask as clearly as it would on her own face if she hadn't slept in a week. His features were less defined than usual, blurred at the edges, making him like a watercolor painting that had run in the heat. How many more hours could he go like this?

  He lowered his head briefly, both hands on the rim of the tube, then summoned the strength to pull himself out.

  "Odo," Bashir began. "I don't approve of your leaving the infirmary. You don't look good."

  "Thank you," Odo sputtered, not attempting to hide his bitterness. "There's nothing the infirmary, or you, or anyone can do for me."

  Silence fell and the words rang and rang. He was saying he would be dead soon, and had accepted that there was no help for him. In her periphery Kira saw Sisko glance for silent confirmation to Bashir, but thankfully no one said anything about getting him off the station. Their restraint was diplomatic, but no one, including Odo, was fooled.

  Kira found herself shamefully glad that she wouldn't be the one to give that order. Like the old days in Bajoran history and Earth history—sending a loved one to a leper colony to die without the comfort of family. Through Sisko's calm exterior she saw the bitter rage that comes from the death of a friend.

  Being crusty had helped her in her life, steeling herself and refusing to fall apart as others had, but she had changed. Being an adult was a lot different from being a teenager. Teenagers were indestructible, self-shielding, and took one day at a time. Over the years, her shielding had thinned, and she constantly gazed at the future.

  How much could she take?

  This was like being a fugitive in the Bajor's caves again. She didn't want to live that life again.

  Sisko moved out of her periphery and came around behind her. "Constable, how are you holding up?"

  The Security officer's weakness was palpable. He had to support himself on walls and consoles and chairs every step of the way to them. "Poorly," he admitted, his voice scratchy. "If I can concentrate on my job, I may be able to hold this form longer."

  "You have to hold it," Bashir said. "Either that," Sisko added, "or I have to put you off the station for the protection of everyone else."

  "I understand."

  "You were with the Cardassians for a while, so tell me—do you know anything about 'the High Gul' or something called the Crescent?"

  "Crescent?" Odo tilted his head in puzzlement. "There's no such thing."

  "But what about in the past? Seventy or eighty years."

  Shivering with strain, Odo pressed both hands to the back of an empty chair and stared into the floor. His fingers blurred into solid mittens, then separated again as he concentrated.

  "Crescent …" He sharply looked up. "The Crescent Order? You can't be talking about that!"

  "Yes, I am. What is it?"

  "It was the strongest order ever created in the Cardassian hierarchy! It was almost unanimous in its endorsement—the leaders were nearly deified in their own times. But it was almost a century ago! What's that got to do with us?"

  "That's who we're dealing with."

  Odo stared at him. "You're mistaken."

  "Not a bit. That's who those corpses were. Some special force or ultimate unit, led by this individual who calls himself the High Gul."

  "High Gul," Odo whispered, suddenly breathless.

  "High Gul! The High Gul? There's only one person with that title in Cardassian history!"

  "And he's like George Washington or Christopher Columbus for Terrans," Sisko ratified. "Hard to see through the haze of legend and reputation that's grown around him over the years. But he's eighty years behind the technological times. That's got to work in our favor."

  "I don't know," Kira interrupted. "He's learning pretty fast, to be able to take control of our computers that way."

  "But he didn't get complete control over them," Odo picked up, "or he would've had atmosphere control and would simply have killed us all."

  "Yes!" Kira blurted. "That makes sense! That's why he tried to trick us into leaving!" She looked at Sisko. "He didn't have all the control we thought he did!"

  "And now we're getting control back on the inside," Sisko said, "while on the outside we've got one ship coming in, but only one. I still don't understand what that means."

  Kira struggled for answers. "It could be they've launched a full-scale attack over a wide area and can only spare one ship for this station."

  "That's not how the Cardassians work, Major," Odo wheezed. His face was glazed with effort, and he held on to the console as he spoke. "They have their logistical quirks, but spreading their troops or their vessels too thin isn't one of them. They'll launch their entire fleet at a square inch of space rather than fight a battle on a wide front. It's why they concentrated so hard on Bajor for so long."

  "Benjamin," Dax quietly interrupted, "I'm getting a hail from the incoming vessel now."

  Sisko stepped past Bashir to her. "Put it through. Let's hear what they have to say."

  Dax nodded, tapped her panel, and said, "This is United Federation of Planets Station Deep Space Nine. Identify yourselves and state your intent."

  "This is the Cardassian Imperial Warship Rugg'l. Who speaks for the station?"

  Sisko blinked at Kira for a moment. He murmured, "What kind of name for a ship is 'Rugg'l'?"

  Behind them, Bashir shrugged. "A Cardassian one."

  "Sounds like a barn dance." He cleared his throat and spoke up. "This is Captain Benjamin Sisko. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

  "I am Gul Fransu of the Cardassian Central Command and I'm ordering you to surrender peacefully or be boarded by force."

  "You're in Federation space without authorization, announcement, or Starfleet escort. Please explain yourself. You have five seconds."

  "We have come to rescue our greatest battle lord, the High Gul of the Crescent Order, whom you have kidnapped and are holding hostage in your facility. We demand that you hand him and the soldiers of his Elite Guard over immediately or your station will be laid wreck."

  "I've had about enough of these people," Sisko said. "Major, fire up the Defiant's engines. Get her ready for launch. Odo, if you're well enough, track those Cardassian intruders. We know the station better than they do—that's got to work in our favor. See if you can trap them somewhere."

  The exhausted Security chief pressed his thin lips in determination, grumbled, "I'd be delighted," and struggled to the internal systems console.

  "Open frequency," Sisko said.

  Dax moved only one finger. "Frequency open."

  "This is Captain Sisko. I refuse to drop my shields for any beaming purposes. This is Starfleet jurisdiction and I'm not handing anyone over to you. Any crimes committed on this station will be dealt with by Federation statutes. Any persons occupying this station are entitled to Federation sanctuary."

  "Even if they are there to conquer the very sanctuary you offer?"

  "Yes, even then."

  "Perhaps I could lend you some soldiers who would be able to deal with the invaders on a Cardassian level."

  Sisko smiled, but not nicely. "Thanks, but no thanks."

  "Sir—" Kira interrupted.

  "Stand by," Sisko said and signaled for Dax to cut off the channel. Then he looked at Kira. "What?"

  She held out a beckoning hand. "Let's do it!
Let's just hand the Crescent and his people over to them? That would solve all our problems! Let the Cardassians deal with these parasites!"

  Sisko's black eyes hung on her as he contemplated the ups and downs of what she was saying. Could he see the eagerness in her face—how badly she wanted to get rid of the Cardassian scourge on their station? Sure he could. She wasn't hiding it.

  "No," he said after a time. "Whatever their game is, I refuse to play it. They've made me part of the equation and I am not cooperating with either side until I sort out what's really happening here. Or until Starfleet arrives, whichever comes first. Dax, put me through again." He waited until the channels were open, then said. "There will be no compromises to my authority here. Stand down your weapons, turn your ship around, and consider yourselves evicted from this sector."

  A long pause. The open channels buzzed faintly with effort, trying to override the damping effect.

  Ultimately the voice came again.

  "No."

  Sisko vocally shrugged. "I thought you might say that. All right, we do it the hard way. Close frequencies. Phasers three quarters. Open fire. Let them know I mean business."

  Kira bruised her hip as she slid hard into the chair beside Dax, once occupied by one of the officers she'd sent below to effect evacuation. The controls felt right under her hands as she adjusted the firing mechanisms, homed in on her target, took a fix, and struck the enable pad. It felt good, really good.

  On the screen, red streaks of phaser fire broke from the station's weapons ports and chipped sparks out of the deflectors of the Galor-class vessel. Electrical results crackled bitterly around the vessel, then glanced off into space and dissipated into a salmon-colored fog.

  "Direct hit on their forward screens." Kira gazed at Sisko appreciatively.

  "That was pretty sudden, sir," the doctor commented, but didn't clarify what he meant.

  Sisko didn't look at him, but continued scoping the ship on the main screen. "I gave them a chance. They were lucky to get the one."

  "I'm all for that," Kira ratified.

  "I thought you would be, Major."

  "Damage is nominal," Dax said. "They've got their full screens up. They knew we'd fight. They're turning away now … coming to a new attack position."

  "They're firing!" Kira pressed her feet flat to the carpet and the heels of her hands against the edge of the console, but when the station shook with impact she still felt as if the world were falling apart around her. Planets, fine, ships, fine, but this station, hovering somewhere between land and vessel—she still wasn't used to fighting a battle from the free-floating halls of DS9.

  "They fired!" Kira blurted. "They actually fired with their own people on the station!"

  Sisko nodded. "That tells us they don't care as much as they're letting on about their Gul and his Crescent."

  Dax reported, "Hit on our starboard deflector shield generators."

  "Doctor," he said, "would you take the attitude control thruster position, please."

  "Oh—of course, sir."

  "Quark!"

  The Ferengi cast him a fishy stare. "What! I didn't do anything! I've just been standing here!"

  "Sit down over here and take these controls."

  "But I don't know how to spin this top!"

  "We'll tell you what to do."

  "I protest strongly!"

  "Go right ahead. Major, put the phasers on full power and fire at will."

  Fingers tingling, Kira bit her lip and fired away freely. The Cardassian ship on the viewer took the body punches well enough and returned every shot, but didn't dare turn its strong forward deflectors away from the station while being bombarded from the strong weapons sails. From her vantage point before the monitors, Kira saw the heavy-bodied Rugg'l taking strike after strike, hovering just out of full-impact range, and returning fire between the station's shots. A straightforward siege, hit and be hit, head-on.

  "Captain Sisko!"

  His face melting for an instant until he got control, Odo swung around in his chair and almost fell before catching himself.

  "The Defiant! That's where he's headed! He's figured out that we have a fully-armed warship docked here!"

  Sisko glowered at him, then thumped the console with a knotted fist, not very hard, but hard enough to give away how he felt. "Dammit."

  "How?" Kira pierced. "It doesn't show up on any schematics! It's not even logged in the station computer!"

  "Officially, it's not here at all," Dax muttered. "Yes, it is," Sisko said, "but it's a need-to-know property. It's pretty hard to hide a whole starship from incoming and outgoing traffic."

  Sitting as if waiting to have her fingernails done, Dax let her eyes twinkle at him. "Not if you arrange the approach and departure vectors just so. You'd be surprised how many ships have come and gone without ever seeing the Defiant."

  Returning the cagey look, Sisko rumbled, "Old man, you are a devil in disguise."

  "I know."

  "So how could someone lurking around the bowels of the station, using sketchy plans and logged schematics to find his way around, discover that we've got a starship docked here?"

  A few seconds went by before, then at the same time all five of them chimed, "Garak!"

  Leaning away from her console in fury, Kira thrust all her fingers into her hair and grabbed on hard. "That snake! I should've locked him up at the first sign of trouble! That double-crossing, ungrateful snake!"

  "Come now, Major, Garak's not all bad," Bashir protested. "He's been treated well here, he's got friends here, he's lived a decent life here—"

  "And he's in exile here!" Kira seized. "He'd do anything to change the balance of power in the Cardassian government!"

  "Kira," Sisko said sharply, "you come with me. Odo, you too. Let's get down to the Defiant before he does."

  As her blood began to race, Kira pushed out of her chair. "Aye, sir!"

  CHAPTER 15

  THE SOUND OF choking is as old as time and as heartless. Pain, surprise, a graze of humiliation, of shock that the posturing has finally cracked open into violence—all are pieces of the body of battle.

  Smoke boiled across the Rugg'l's bridge. Gul Fransu waved pointlessly at the gushing black stuff as if to slap it away, but there was more coming in. "Get the ventilators working! And where is our bridge help!"

  "Both killed in a corridor during the second hit." Renzo's throat was raw with smoke. "I've ordered two more, plus a weapons specialist. Ballistics are inhibited, warp power down one-fifth, sublight compromised one-quarter."

  "Adjust forward and beam thrusters to push us back. Gain some ground. Put our strongest shields to the station, then all stop. All we have to do is keep hitting them. Can you see?"

  "I can manage my way."

  Hearing Renzo move off to his left, Fransu shuffled across the bridge, still blinded by smoke, and burned his fingers twice on fused panels before he found the engineering console and tapped instructions to the lower decks, assuming they were still alive to take his orders.

  Renzo stumbled to the middle of the bridge, cradling a wounded arm as he gazed at the calcimine claw of Terok Nor hanging in space before them on the crackling screen. "It's bigger than I thought it would be."

  "It's a change-faced lodging," Fransu added, joining him at the command chair. "It looks Cardassian, but looks lie. If the High Gul has found out how long he lay there in dark cold, then he's a shocked man."

  "Shock can twist a person," Renzo considered, by way of agreement.

  Fransu only nodded. "Concentrate all our power to deflectors and weapons. We're a fighting ship, they are a station. We can take more than they can. Their shields will collapse before ours, and a station cannot run away. It will be just exposed metal to be cut to pieces by whatever we have left. And connect with the nearest communications drone and make it stop blocking this area. I want to hearthe High Gul's voice one more time before I destroy him."

  Renzo looked at him, paused, then thoughtfully said, "I sh
ouldn't let you."

  Fransu glanced at him knowingly, shifted his shoulders, and gazed again at the huge station slowly rotating, its dull rim spackled by white lights.

  "But you will."

  He gazed with satisfaction on the giant station that in a short time would be a relic. The only thing darkening his mood was the inevitable killing of his own crew when this was all over, and the abandoning of his ship. He and Renzo would survive in a life pod and make up a story to cover their acts of these hours. Anything could be said to have happened except what actually was happening.

  It wasn't the end he had imagined for himself and the High Gul and the Elite Guard all those years ago when he had hatched the plan to depose the High Gul's power and turn the course of events as they were being laid out, but things had changed. And he was older now. He would have a chance to—

  "Renzo!" Fransu jolted out of his chair. "What … what is that? What is that!"

  "Where?"

  "On the lower docking pylon!"

  Below the station, just coming into view as the great structure slowly rotated, hanging like a spider on the glittering web, lay ablunt-cut vessel, dark against the fabric of space. Built low, round, and flat, it had blunt side-mounted propulsion units and a scoop-shaped snout protruding out the front—weapons or sensors? The clubhead ship would present very little target hull to the enemy on approach or vector. Painted in matte ink blues and grays, it bore no usual pride and smiles of Federation ships, but only the muscular essence of dirty purpose.

  "That's the Defiant." Fransu browsed the forward screen. "I heard reports about it. It was made to fight the Borg."

  "If that ship is meant to fight the Borg, and we have to fight it—"

  Moving hand over hand around the helm, Fransu stalked the screen, his eyes scanning again and again the blunt vessel that had changed everything.

  "Why hasn't it launched? What's it doing, just sitting there at dock?"

  "Maybe it's here for maintenance." Renzo was clearly working to hide his agitation at the sight before them. "Maybe they have no crew for it. Maybe the warp core is out of it—maybe—"

  "It doesn't matter," Fransu rasped. "Everything is different now! If that ship is spaceworthy, we must act before they have the chance to cast off! I don't want to have to deal with that blockbuster—quickly, Renzo, more quickly than you have ever done anything, double our fighting power and sacrifice wherever we must. Close in on the station and gear up for heavier bombardment. We can no longer afford a simple siege. We have to storm the walls! We have to finish the station before that thing launches!"