“Opening hailing frequencies,” Viss replied through the translator in her aquatic-environment suit. “You have a channel, Captain.”
“Deep Space Nine to Oxis Dey,” Ro said. “This is Captain Ro Laren.”
A surge of interference rasped through the Hub, but then a male voice spoke clearly. “Deep Space Nine, this is Oxis Dey. I’m Tellion, master of this vessel.” Even through the universal translator, Slaine recognized the man’s accent as that of the Rynosh, a nonaligned species known to have dealings with the Tzenkethi.
“Master Tellion, your ship isn’t due at our starbase for another twenty-eight hours,” Ro said. Slaine noticed that the captain spoke with a level tone, simply stating a fact rather than issuing a challenge. “We’ve got a lot of traffic right now and only a few free docking bays, so we were wondering why you’ve arrived so far ahead of schedule.”
“We’ve experienced some good fortune for a change, Captain,” Tellion said. “We managed to get an expedited run through customs at Nivoch, and then we had favorable conditions all along the Badlands, which, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, doesn’t happen all that often.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ro agreed amiably. “Not even for Starfleet vessels.”
As Tellion responded with general sounds of agreement, Slaine detected an unusual disparity in one of the numbers that ran across her panel. She quickly isolated and confirmed it, then searched for similar occurrences in the data. She found two other abnormalities.
“Captain,” she said quietly.
“Stand by, Master Tellion,” Ro said, still conversational, “while we see if we can find a suitable docking bay for you.” She held up an open hand, then closed it into a fist.
“Channel on standby,” Viss said.
“What have you got, Zivan?” Ro asked.
“Almost everything about the Oxis Dey reads as expected,” Slaine said, “but my scans have detected three ‘dead’ zones on the hull, areas that the sensors can’t penetrate.”
“Do you have any suspicions?” Ro asked.
“Nothing specific, no,” Slaine said. “In fact, there’s probably a reasonable explanation, but . . .” She didn’t need to finish to make her point. Although Slaine could see the crew every day trying to move on from what had happened, she knew that the ghost of Nanietta Bacco would hang over them for some time.
“Let’s see what that explanation might be,” Ro said. Then, of the dockmaster, she asked, “Vendora, what do we know about the crew of the Oxis Dey?”
“There should be six aboard, including the master, all of them Rynosh,” deGrom said. “Tellion is the registered owner and pilot.”
“I do read six life signs,” Slaine said. “All Rynosh.”
Ro nodded. “Open the channel.”
“Channel open,” Viss said.
“Master Tellion, I’m sorry for the delay,” Ro said. “My tactical officer has noticed that there are three areas of your vessel that have been made impenetrable to our sensors. I hope you can understand why that would give me cause for concern.”
“I can assure you that there’s nothing mysterious about it, Captain,” Tellion said. “We’re delivering delicate foodstuffs that wouldn’t withstand the radiation along the Badlands without the additional shielding.”
“Understandable,” Ro said. “All right, stand by.” She signaled toward the communications console, and Viss once more paused the open channel. “Zivan, what do you think?”
“It sounds like a perfectly sensible explanation,” Slaine said. She hesitated, unsure if she should give voice to her nebulous concerns, and then decided to continue. “It also seems convenient. Maybe we should board the ship and inspect it before permitting it to dock.”
Ro seemed to consider this, then asked her first officer, “What do you think, Desca?”
“I think we need to protect the people aboard this starbase,” he said from the exec’s chair. “That means we need to be overly cautious when it’s warranted, but Deep Space Nine’s going to see a lot of traffic, far more than the old station ever did. We’re not going to be able to board and scrutinize every ship and its cargo before they dock here.”
“You’re right, of course,” Ro said, and she sighed heavily. “Well, at least the Oxis Dey is early and won’t fall behind its schedule if we slow it down a bit,” Ro said. “Desca, contact Wheeler and have him take the Defiant over. Let’s establish for everybody out there that, if they give us any reason for concern, they might have to stare down phaser-cannon emitters and quantum-torpedo launchers.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“He should be thorough,” Ro said, “but unless they give him a reason otherwise, I want him to treat Master Tellion and his crew with the utmost respect.” It seemed clear to Slaine that, in the wake of the assassination, the captain wanted to enact strong procedures for protecting the starbase and its residents from potential dangers, but that she was also mindful of keeping DS9 from gaining a reputation as a difficult or unfriendly place.
“Understood,” Cenn said, and he worked the panel in front of the exec’s chair.
“Kalanent, reopen the channel,” Ro said.
“Channel open,” Viss said.
“Master Tellion, please accept my regrets,” the captain said, “but I’m requesting that you allow an inspection of your vessel before docking.” The crew had no legal authority to board ships until they moored at DS9.
Tellion did not immediately reply, and his silence increased the tension Slaine felt. Finally, he said, “Is that absolutely necessary, Captain? We don’t often run ahead of schedule, and I’m keen to take advantage of the extra time we’ve gained for ourselves.”
“I understand,” Ro said, “but in the light of recent circumstances aboard this starbase, I’m going to have to insist. I pledge to you that my crew will proceed as quickly and respectfully as possible.” As she spoke, Ro climbed the steps out of the Well to Slaine’s right, until she stood once more by the tactical console.
Another few seconds of silence followed, but then the owner and pilot of Oxis Dey relented. “Very well, Captain,” he said. “I do urge you to be quick about it.”
“Thank you, Master Tellion,” Ro said. “I appreciate your cooperation. Please bring your vessel to a complete stop and hold your position. My second officer, Lieutenant Commander Stinson, will approach you shortly aboard the Defiant.”
“I just hope that the holosuites at Quark’s are as good as I’ve heard,” Tellion said. Considering that the starbase had only transitioned to full operational status six days prior, Slaine wondered what sort of marketing campaign Quark must have launched to reach the Rynosh crew of a freighter that usually worked the Galador Corridor.
“If you can make it past his dabo wheels and dom-jot tables, I’m sure you’ll find them worth a visit,” Ro said. “Deep Space Nine out.” Viss closed the channel with a touch.
Slaine watched her readouts, then told the captain, “They’re decelerating.”
“There’s probably nothing to this,” Ro said.
“No, probably not,” Slaine agreed.
Ro shook her head, then spoke quietly, so that only Slaine—and perhaps Lieutenant Bixx beside her—could hear. “I don’t enjoy this feeling of paranoia.”
“You’re just discharging your duty in a way befitting the situation,” Slaine said. She fully understood what the captain felt, because the same emotions roiled within the tactical officer. “I don’t think we need to worry,” she added. “Deep Space Nine is well secured.”
“I know,” Ro said. “But that’s what I thought a week ago.” Without waiting for a response, the captain walked back toward the command chair, leaving Slaine alone to deal with her own doubts.
5
Sisko waited for the image of the Starfleet commander in chief to appear on the companel set into the wall. The advent of procedures an
d technology that effectively allowed for real-time communications across great distances had proven a boon in times of crisis, but since the terrible events on Deep Space 9, Captain Benjamin Sisko had spoken directly with Admiral Akaar far more often than he had liked. Sisko held no particular animus for the admiral, despite his deserved reputation as a stern and unforgiving taskmaster. In the captain’s own dealings with the c-in-c, Akaar had been forceful but fair, demanding but supportive.
At that moment, though, Sisko simply didn’t want to hear what he felt certain the admiral would have to say, in one form or another. Prior to the murder of President Bacco, the Robinson crew had been scheduled to depart on an extended exploratory mission out beyond the Bajoran system. Afterward, that plan had been temporarily placed on hold. With the subsequent revelation that the Tzenkethi—and, by extension, the Typhon Pact—might have been party to the assassination, Sisko feared that Starfleet’s designs to return to the grand days of galactic exploration and the expansion of knowledge would be delayed indefinitely, or even scrapped entirely.
Sisko had just returned to his family’s quarters after conducting an inspection that evening of main engineering—he endeavored to make good use of the ship’s downtime at DS9—and he hadn’t yet changed out of his uniform. The door barely closed behind him when Lieutenant Radickey contacted him from the bridge, informing him of an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command. With Kasidy nestled on the sofa in the living area with a novel and a glass of wine—Rebecca had already gone off to bed—Sisko withdrew to their bedroom.
Sitting at the companel set into the bulkhead, Sisko saw the Starfleet Command emblem wink off the screen, replaced an instant later by the wizened, white-haired, but still vital aspect of Leonard James Akaar. The admiral sat at the desk in his office, on the highest level of Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. Sisko could see the Golden Gate Bridge illuminated through the window behind him
“Captain, what is the current status of the Robinson?” In Sisko’s experience, the admiral seldom troubled himself with pleasantries.
“All systems are operational,” Sisko said. “The crew are anxious to begin our explorations.” The captain didn’t think that Akaar had asked about Robinson’s readiness so that Starfleet could send the ship on its way into unexplored space, but he chose for the moment to cling to that hope.
“I’m afraid that the Robinson’s assignment has changed,” Akaar said, immediately ending Sisko’s fantasy. “You’re needed as part of a show of force along the Federation border closest to the Tzenkethi Coalition.”
“Admiral . . .” Sisko began, but then he wondered what possible appeal he could make to compel Akaar to rescind his order. The captain knew that no such argument existed, but he still felt the need to speak his mind. “Admiral, I’m eager for the Robinson to begin the mission that’s been planned for it, but I have far greater concerns than that about what you’re ordering. It could be dangerous to send even one starship toward the Coalition’s border, let alone enough of them to constitute a ‘show of force.’ If the Tzenkethi did conspire to assassinate the president, then armed conflict with them is likely the next step, but if they didn’t, a sudden military buildup by the Federation could just as easily precipitate open hostilities. We could end up in a shooting war that has absolutely no justification.”
“The evidence strongly suggests that the Tzenkethi were involved,” Akaar said, but he delivered the words without much conviction—as though relaying somebody else’s opinion, rather than stating his own. That the admiral even deigned to address Sisko’s criticism seemed out of character.
“If the Tzenkethi were involved,” Sisko said, “there will be plenty of time to engage them in battle, but it’s crucial that we don’t do anything to trigger a war that doesn’t need to be fought.” As much as the idea horrified him, the captain understood that the Federation would have to prepare for another confrontation with the Coalition, at least until the Tzenkethi’s role in President Bacco’s death could be confirmed or refuted. “Starfleet can send matériel to the Helaspont Sector, but keep it away from the border. We have a starbase there that’s perfectly capable of monitoring the movements of the Tzenkethi.”
“I . . . I don’t disagree with you, Captain.” It might have been the first time that Sisko had ever seen the admiral hesitate. Akaar leaned back in his chair, as though trying to distance himself from the conversation—or perhaps from the order he’d given. He folded his muscular arms across his chest, his massive Capellan form still powerful even two decades past his hundredth birthday.
“If you don’t disagree, Admiral—” Sisko began, but Akaar wouldn’t let him finish.
“Whether I disagree or not is immaterial,” he said. “Starfleet is under a great deal of pressure to respond to what’s happened.”
“I can appreciate that, sir, but it has to be a measured response,” Sisko said. “If the Tzenkethi aren’t guilty, then escalating tensions with them until we go to war would not only be wrong, it would distract us from learning who actually perpetrated this horrible crime.”
“For many people, Captain, there is no question that the Tzenkethi are guilty.” The admiral sounded resigned to accepting that there were those who would draw such a conclusion without sufficient justification, and that revealed to Sisko the source of the greatest pressure on Akaar and Starfleet. The possibility of Tzenkethi involvement in the assassination had not yet been released to the public, and so neither the Federation citizenry nor the press could be compelling the admiral to send starships to the Helaspont Sector. If the Federation Council was attempting to strong-arm Akaar, he simply would not allow their judgment in matters of ship deployment to be substituted for that of Starfleet Command, and the same was true of the cabinet. That left only one possibility, only one place that could be leaning on the admiral: the office of the president pro tem, Ishan Anjar.
Although Ishan hailed from Bajor, Sisko had never met the man. The captain had heard rumors about him, though, including that Ishan had maneuvered his predecessor, Krim Aldos, out of his position on the Federation Council so that he could succeed him. If true, then it seemed reasonable to Sisko that such an individual, so invested in the acquisition of power, might want to demonstrate his strength and resolve as soon as he took office—especially if he sought to hold on to his new position beyond sixty days, when a special election would see the next president elected. A display of force against the perpetually belligerent Tzenkethi, and even war with them—regardless of their culpability in the assassination—could go a long way in establishing Ishan’s bona fides as a leader.
“Respectfully, Admiral, shouldn’t we wait for the investigation to be completed before setting the Federation at the cusp of war?” Sisko asked. The single piece of evidence pointing to the Coalition—Tzenkethi cellular material found on a technological device implanted in Enkar Sirsy—had been processed through the judge advocate general’s office on Deep Space 9 and dispatched to a secure Starfleet scientific facility for further examination.
“We should wait for the investigation to conclude,” Akaar said, “but we’re not going to.” He tapped at a control on his desk. “I’ve just transmitted to the Robinson a set of coordinates and a navigational plot. Take your ship to the specified destination at once, and begin your patrol route along the far border in the Helaspont Sector. Make reports to Captain French, the commanding officer of Helaspont Station, twice daily, or more often, as circumstances dictate.”
“Yes, sir.” Sisko knew he could say nothing more. He expected Akaar to end the transmission, but instead, the admiral looked away from the monitor, as though considering the situation.
At last, Akaar looked back and said, “Captain, my official orders to you are to patrol a specific section of the Federation border in the Helaspont Sector. I also urge you to proceed as cautiously as possible under the circumstances, and to take no action against any Coalition forces unless absolutely ne
cessary.” He paused again, then leaned in toward the monitor and lowered his voice. “The evidence presently appears to implicate the Tzenkethi, Captain, but something about that doesn’t feel quite right to me.”
Sisko concurred. He had his own dark history with the Tzenkethi, going all the way back to the Federation’s last war with the Coalition. Sisko did not trust them any further than he could throw a planet, but their alleged involvement in the assassination depended on their being sloppy, and that did not sound like the Tzenkethi. Sisko believed that, had the Coalition chosen to murder President Bacco and incriminate Enkar Sirsy for the crime, Enkar would still be in jail, awaiting her trial, conviction, and sentencing.
“Sir—” Sisko said, intending to voice his agreement with the admiral and articulate his own thoughts about the Tzenkethi, but Akaar again cut him short.
“Have you anything more to report about the situation at Deep Space Nine, Captain?”
Sisko thought to mention that approximately six of the starbase’s ten thousand new residents had arrived that day, but that information fell under the purview of Captain Ro. “No, sir.”
“Good,” the admiral said. “You have your orders. Akaar out.” The Starfleet Command logo appeared briefly, and then the companel screen went blank.
That quickly, the Robinson crew’s mission profile had transformed from exploration to defense. Although he had anticipated the change, it did not sit well with Sisko. With no choice in the matter, he contacted Captain Ro aboard DS9 to inform her of his ship’s imminent departure. He then spoke with the duty officer on the bridge, Lieutenant Scalin Resk, and ordered him to prepare Robinson for its journey.
Once he’d completed those tasks, Sisko headed out into the living area. Kasidy still sat on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her as she read the novel on her personal access display device. She looked comfortable—and more than a little sexy—in a silk lavender chemise. She glanced up with anticipation when he entered, but her expectant expression fell almost at once.
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