Home Fires

by Dayton Ward

  Mogad was towering over him now, standing so close to him that Donovan imagined Aldo feeling the Cardassian’s breath on his face, nearly as hot as the palpable anger radiating from the gul’s muscled body.

  Shaking his head, Aldo replied, “No, of course not.”

  “Then your only hope for their safety is to be honest with me, here and now.” Mogad somehow managed to step even closer to the freighter captain, his voice now low and menacing. “I am being generous with you, Aldo, because of the measure of trust you’ve earned from me, but I will make this offer only once.”

  Donovan saw the no-win situation for what it was. No matter how Aldo answered, he was probably forfeiting his own life. Perhaps Mogad would show leniency toward the rest of the crew, but what about him and Ross and Ghrovlatrei? If their true identities were exposed, the Cardassian would waste no time taking them into custody. Would he even bother to have them transported to an appropriate military installation for trial, or would he simply carry out summary judgment and execute the three officers right here in this very room?

  No way.

  He kept the movement subtle, his hand sliding with excruciating slowness to the small pocket on his right thigh and the palm-sized phaser there. His fingertips brushed the smooth finish of the weapon as he grasped the diminutive, contoured device. By touch, he verified that the phaser was set to stun. He would only have one chance at this. Was Ross thinking along the same lines? Donovan had to believe that the seasoned Starfleet officer had already considered and discarded a dozen courses of action.

  “Mogad,” Aldo said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  With what Donovan interpreted as a sigh of resignation, Mogad regarded the freighter captain, pursing his lips as if in thought. After several seconds, he finally nodded, appearing to have reached a decision.

  His eyes never left Aldo’s as he said, “Kill them.”

  The other Cardassians stepped forward at Mogad’s command, their phase-disruptor rifles taking aim on the assembled group of cargo haulers. Donovan watched as one of the weapons swung in his direction, its muzzle tracking toward his chest. There was no way he would ever be able to bring his phaser up before the Cardassian fired.

  You’re going to die.

  The whine of a phaser echoed in the shuttlebay, interrupting the soldier’s movements as a bright orange beam of energy lanced out to strike the Cardassian in the chest. Another volley shot across the room, narrowly missing Mogad as he dove for cover.

  Donovan detected movement to his right and turned to see another of the Cardassians aiming a weapon in his direction. He aimed his phaser and fired as he dropped to a knee. The howl of a disruptor bolt screamed past his ear as his own phaser beam missed the shooter, striking the bulkhead just over the Cardassian’s left shoulder.

  Then the entire room erupted into chaos.

  Bodies scattered in all directions as the Hope’s crew scrambled for storage bins, cargo containers, or equipment lockers, anything that might provide protection. Two of the freight haulers teamed up to subdue another Cardassian, their combined weight and strength toppling the soldier to the deck. Donovan recognized one of the attackers as the ship’s pilot, Dillone, who retrieved the fallen alien’s weapon before scampering for cover.

  All this happened as the remaining Cardassians opened fire on anything that moved. Donovan could only stand helpless as one of the Hope’s crew members, he did not know the man’s name, fell victim to a barrage of disruptor energy. The weapon tore through his body, leaving a gaping smoking wound as the man collapsed in a lifeless heap.

  As he sought concealment of his own among the stacks of cargo modules, Donovan envisioned the interior of the shuttlebay in his mind. Most of the Hope’s crew had found refuge among the cargo containers arrayed around the room’s perimeter, while a few had been forced to resort to whatever protection they could find closer to the center of the room. The Cardassians who were still mobile had sought similar refuge.

  Donovan examined his surroundings. There appeared to be no way to escape from the shuttlebay without drawing enemy fire. A quick survey of the room showed him no alternative means of exit. The situation had devolved into a standoff, with the shooting now all but stopped. Holding his breath, Donovan listened for voices or signs of movement from any of the Cardassians while scanning the gaps between cargo containers for threats.

  Nothing.

  The whine of Ross’s phaser nearly scared him out of his skin as the bright amber beam passed directly in front of him from left to right. He pivoted away from the shot and saw the intended target, a Cardassian who had been sneaking up on him. The blast struck the soldier and sent him collapsing to the deck.

  Donovan scrambled around the other side of his own module even as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked at the touch and looked up to see Ross. The commander’s eyes were not looking down at him but rather tracking along with the phaser in his hand. He fired again as he helped the ensign to his feet.

  “Move!” Ross hissed, pulling Donovan back the way he had come. The two men darted between cargo containers until they met up with Aldo Corsi and two of the freighter’s crew huddled together behind one of the larger storage modules.

  “Where’s everybody else?” he asked Aldo.

  Anger clouded the freighter captain’s face as he shook his head. “Scattered. Colv and Walters went down when the shooting started.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Ross. “This is your fault. You promised that nothing like this would happen.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Ross countered, though he never made eye contact with Aldo as he continued to search for threats. “If Mogad gets to his ships, we’re all dead.” Turning to Aldo, he said, “But we need to get your people to better cover. They’re sitting ducks out here.”

  He pointed to the Cardassian near the doorway, and Donovan saw that the soldier was partially concealed behind a single storage locker staged near the hatch, his muscular frame much larger than the bin itself. It was enough, however, to prevent anyone from getting a shot without being exposed to return fire.

  “Donovan and I will secure the door,” Ross said to Aldo, “and on my signal you run and you don’t stop running until you get behind those modules next to the hatch. Once we regroup, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  It was a risky plan, but Donovan understood it for what it was, an off-the-cuff attempt to capitalize on the meager advantage Ross had fashioned from the situation. Regardless of the risk, it was still better than staying where they were and waiting for Mogad’s men to beat them with their superior firepower.

  “Go!” Ross hissed as he pushed away from the cargo module, firing his phaser without truly aiming the weapon as he moved. Donovan mimicked the commander’s actions, firing at movement beside one of the storage lockers positioned along one nearby bulkhead. Cloaked in shadow there, the Cardassian fired in retaliation but it was a shot that went wide as Donovan fired again, sending the soldier into retreat.

  As he and Ross crossed the open area toward the door, firing as they went, the hatch itself opened without warning to reveal Hu’Ghrovlatrei. The Cardassian near the door swung in the direction of the new threat but he was too slow to stop Ghrovlatrei, who leveled a Cardassian disruptor at him and fired. Energy washed over the soldier’s body and he crashed unconscious to the deck.

  “Good timing,” Donovan said as Ghrovlatrei joined him behind a larger cargo container.

  The Efrosian nodded. “I though you might need some help.” She shifted to her left to make room for Ross as the commander situated himself behind the storage module. On his signal, the three Starfleet officers aimed their phasers back into the shuttlebay, their lines of sight crossing over one another to create overlapping fields of fire.

  “Let’s go, Aldo!” Ross called out, and Donovan saw the freighter captain and members of his crew begin to head in their direction.

  From his vantage point, Donovan saw Giancarlo Corsi hunkered down behi
nd a lone storage module near where he had been standing when the fighting broke out. He was watching his friends heading for cover, and Donovan could see from the look in Giancarlo’s eyes that he was sizing up the situation and the energy bolts flying around the room, watching for his own opportunity to dash to safety.

  “Come on, Gi!” Aldo yelled as he ran toward the door.

  Giancarlo shook his head. “Get everybody else!” he yelled back, keeping himself protected behind the cargo container.

  Using the disruptor he had recovered to protect his friend’s retreat, Dillone remained in the hiding place he had found for himself and laid down a ferocious blanket of covering fire. Ross and Donovan added their own weapons to the mix, and the chamber echoed with the fierce storm of the continuous energy discharges as, one by one, those members of the Hope’s crew who had not fallen during the firefight worked their way toward the rest of the group.

  The Cardassians in the room were answering the heavy weapons fire with their own. Energy bolts slammed into the bulkhead near the door, and Ross and Donovan both ducked down to present as small a target as possible.

  Aldo was the last of the crew to get across the danger area, turning back to his brother once he had reached the protection of the cargo modules. “Gi!”

  Seeing that his friends were safe, Giancarlo turned to run toward them. Weapons fire exploded from two different points in the room, and Ross and Donovan renewed their efforts to provide cover as he dashed across the dangerous open area separating him from the rest of the group. One disruptor bolt hit the deck near Giancarlo’s left foot and he dodged to the right to avoid it. The move sent him off balance and he stumbled into another cargo module.

  He hesitated only an instant before starting to run again, but even that was too long. The first disruptor blast caught Giancarlo in the side, driving him into another of the storage containers. His forward movement now completely arrested, he was an easy target as a second shot hit him in the back.

  “No!” Aldo shouted above the din, but it was too late.

  The others could only stand and watch as multiple weapon strikes trapped Giancarlo Corsi in a vicious crossfire, and Donovan felt his jaw go slack in horror as the man fell lifeless to the floor of the shuttlebay.

  Chapter

  8

  “Gi!”

  Donovan grabbed Aldo Corsi by the arm to keep the freighter captain from plunging headlong to where Giancarlo had fallen. It would have been a laughable attempt, except that Aldo was forced to stop as a new hell storm of disruptor fire tore through the air around him. Powerless to help his brother, Aldo instead retreated to the protection of the cargo module, sagging to the deck as he buried his head in his hands.

  His features clouded with sympathy, Ross regarded the man for several seconds before directing his attention back to the situation at hand.

  Ghrovlatrei’s own features were clouded by anguish as she glanced toward Aldo. “I must accept responsibility for all that has happened, Commander.” She held up the pair of disruptor rifles she had captured. “The two Cardassians sent to inspect the lower cargo decks were about to discover our equipment. I felt that I had no choice but to disable them.”

  “You had no choice?” Aldo asked, the question laced with anger and pain. “My brother is dead! Your choice killed him. His death is on your hands!”

  Ghrovlatrei’s mouth fell open in muted shock at the verbal assault, and Donovan even took a step backward in response to the man’s raw emotion.

  “Mr. Corsi,” Ross said while somehow maintaining his own composure, “no one is more upset than I am for the loss of your brother and the other people, but right now we have to think about the rest of your crew. Mogad was going to kill all of us, and if he gets off this ship, he’ll blow us all to hell. Our only chance is to keep him here, at least until we can figure out what to do next.”

  Aldo drew several deep breaths in an attempt to bring himself under control. Though the man’s grief and fury were still palpable, Donovan could see that the commander’s words were having an effect on him.

  He watched as Aldo turned and regarded the faces of the four other Hope crew members who had survived the firefight. Huddling behind a row of cargo modules stacked two meters high, none of them said anything, the stress of the past few minutes almost certainly still weighing on them. Just like their captain, they too were hurting over the loss of Giancarlo and the others, but Donovan thought he recognized anger and perhaps even determination in their eyes.

  Finally, Aldo returned his gaze to Ross. “What do you have in mind?”

  By way of reply, Ross looked to Ghrovlatrei. “What’s our status?”

  “I was able to use the sensor equipment to jam their communications,” the Efrosian replied. “Ours are affected as well, however. We cannot signal for assistance so long as the jamming field is activated.”

  As he absorbed Ghrovlatrei’s report Ross said, “Pass out those disruptors.” To Aldo he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve got any other weapons in here somewhere?”

  “No,” Aldo replied, shaking his head. “We never needed them before today.”

  One of the Hope crew members, a human whose name Donovan did not know, stepped forward. “We’ll use clubs if we have to. Those bastards killed our friends, and they’re not getting past us without a fight.” The man’s words invoked a chorus of fierce agreement from the rest of the crew.

  Ross looked to Ghrovlatrei and pointed to the tricorder sticking from the top pocket of her coveralls. “Lieutenant, can you tell me where Mogad is?”

  Consulting the device, Ghrovlatrei shook her head. “There are three Cardassians scattered throughout this room that are still conscious. One of them is maintaining his position among the cargo containers near the closest of the patrol ships, but the other two are moving, perhaps to join their companion. I cannot determine which one is Mogad.”

  From his vantage point, Donovan could see the quartet of patrol ships, their cockpit hatches visible along the top edges of their wedge-shaped hulls. There was no way the Cardassians would be able to approach the ships without being seen.

  Small favors, he mused.

  With a grunt of frustration, Ross shook his head at the report before looking to Ghrovlatrei again. “Cover this hatch. Make sure none of the Cardassians get past you. Donovan, you come with me.”

  Her brow creasing in uncertainty, Ghrovlatrei asked, “What do you have in mind, Commander?”

  * * *

  Ghrovlatrei was right, Donovan chided himself. This assignment was better when it was boring.

  Moving in a crouch, Donovan scurried between the stacks of cargo containers, his ears straining to detect any signs of the three Cardassians who were still hiding somewhere in the shuttlebay. For the third time in as many minutes, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He cursed himself for not having the presence of mind to have carried a tricorder of his own. The device would have proven invaluable to him right about now.

  Of course, you had no idea Commander Ross was going to suggest something this crazy, did you?

  Their time and options fading, Ross had decided on a bold course of action. With Ghrovlatrei and Dillone providing covering fire if needed, the two Starfleet officers had set out in search of Mogad. Donovan was circling along the perimeter of the room to the left of their defensive position near the exit hatch, while Ross searched somewhere among the cargo modules to the right. With no tricorders to scan for the locations of the Cardassians, both humans were forced to rely on their own senses to discern any telltale clues of their enemy’s presence. So far, Donovan had seen and heard nothing to indicate he was not alone here, despite what his pounding heart and rapid breathing told him.

  His thoughts were broken as a voice called out across the shuttlebay. “Mogad!” Donovan froze in place, even holding his breath as the voice, Aldo Corsi’s and full of anger, echoed in the room. “Mogad,” he repeated, “we have to talk. We have to put a stop to this before it gets complet
ely out of control.”

  What was he doing? Why was he drawing attention to himself? Surely, Mogad or one of his subordinates would try to home in on his voice. He was placing himself and his crew in danger.

  “Mogad, we can’t allow this to go any further. Too many people have died or been hurt already, even though you could have prevented it. Are you ready to sacrifice more lives by failing to act?”

  Or was he?

  Of course.

  Donovan smiled to himself, nodding in appreciation for Aldo’s savvy. He was trying to get the Cardassian to speak and reveal his location. After years of dealing with Mogad, the freighter captain probably knew the gul as well as anyone outside his own family. But would he know enough to be able to provoke the Cardassian? It was a simple ploy, attacking Mogad’s ego and pride.

  Simple, yet effective.

  “Let us not forget that it was you who chose to engage in espionage, Corsi,” Mogad said, his voice crisp as always, though Donovan was more concerned with the fact that it was also close. Very close.

  Somewhere to the right, he decided, though the voice was muted somewhat by the cargo containers blocking much of his view of the shuttlebay. He took a tentative step forward, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up.

  “You have my sympathies for the loss of your brother,” Mogad continued, “but his death could have been avoided if you had been honest with me from the beginning.”

  “You bastard! I’ll—”

  Donovan heard the words choke off, and his stomach heaved at the Cardassian’s unmitigated gall. That, and the fact that he, along with Ross, was more than likely responsible for the death of Giancarlo Corsi as well as the other Hope crew members.

  Assuming they survived, the official reports submitted by the three Starfleet officers at the conclusion of this mission would likely exonerate them from blame with regards to the tragedy that had already unfolded here. Such thoughts did not make it any easier for Donovan to cope with what had happened, however.