аDominion War 4

0

CHAPTER

ааааааа 1

"BEN, COME IN. What've you got on the Argolis

problem?"

ааа The admiral's office was a mirror likeness of

Sisko's, with the exception of personal items that

implied a certain permanence. Sisko had deliber-

ately not put any such things in his office, not

wanting to give anybody the idea that maybe he

liked it here and wanted to stay.

ааа Despite his inclination to rush in early, he had

waited until 0800 before coming to Ross with a

battle plan he'd had ready for much longer, but that

would've given too much away. And he had to be

careful how he worded his plans to Ross.

ааа Admiral Ross already had a star chart of Argolis

Cluster raised on a wall monitor. After a polite

greeting, Sisko went straight to the monitor--he

didn't mind showing that he was proud of his work.

ааа The star chart was loaded with the positions of the

sensor array embedded into its program, which

proved to Sisko that Martok had funneled the infor-

mation through already and he could speak freely--

more or less. There was even a set of faint blinking

lights that indicated the fighter group of guard ships

planted there by the Jem'Hadar. Destroying the

array was one problem--those ships were another,

much bigger, problem.

ааа "All right, Ben, what's your plan?" the admiral

asked. "How do we get an assault squadron in close

enough to blast an array that can see them

coming?"

ааа Though Admiral Harold Ross was not a great

tactician, he was in fact known for keen self-

appraisal and surrounded himself with advisors

smarter than he was, whom he drove relentlessly. He

wasn't a very sharp or inspiring fellow, except that

he never beat around the bush and was scrupulously

forthright.

ааа "We'll have to draw the guard ships away from the

cluster, Admiral," Sisko began immediately. "My

suggestion is to use General Martok and a small task

force of ships, no more than five, to create a diver-

sion big enough to draw off at least half of the picket

ships. Then, while the Jem'Hadar think the activ-

ity's going on somewhere else, we send in a single

ship to exact the assault."

ааа "One ship to take down the whole sensor array?

Are you kidding?"

ааа "Not at all. The array can be neutralized with one

powerful and cleverly arranged assault--"

ааа "Gosh, I wonder which ship you have in mind,

Ben."

ааа Sisko turned to him and smiled. "You mean

there's more than one ship around?"

ааа "Okay, but you still haven't told me how you can

sneak up on a thing like that, even with just one

ship."

ааа "I'11 get to that right now, sir. According to

Intelligence, the array is capable of detaching

cloaked ships as far away as two thousand light-

years. By the time the Defiant got around the Argolis

Cluster, the Dominion would already know we were

coming."

ааа Ross nodded grimly. "You'd have more than a

dozen Jem'Hadar ships on you before you even got

close."

аааа Sisko returned the nod. "We need to have the

element of surprise on our side. It's the only way."

а "What are you suggesting?"

а"That I take the ship through the Argolis."

ааа "You can't take a ship through there! You'd be cut

to pieces."

ааа "That's exactly what the Dominion thinks," Sisko

told him proudly. "But if we came at them from the

Argolis, they wouldn't know what hit them."

ааа "What makes you think you can get through?" the

admiral asked again.

ааа "Dax says she can navigate around the gravimet-

ric distortions. She's studied protostar clusters and

she knows what to look for."

ааа Ross glowered at the star chart, then at Sisko, then

the chart again. He wanted to believe it could be

done. Even more, he wanted that array shut down.

ааа "It's a gamble," Sisko agreed to the silent protest.

"But it's one I'm willing to take."

ааа Troubled, Ross dealt with the fact that part of his

job as flag admiral in a war was to take just this kind

of risk, and also to trust the people he'd asked to give

him ideas. If he didn't take suggestions, no matter

how dangerous, eventually people would stop giving

him their best ideas. They'd start assuming he

wouldn't accept this or that, and they'd quit trying.

а A recipe for disaster.

ааа Stopping himself from pushing too hard, Sisko

held his breath and waited. The admiral had the

facts.

ааа "All right," Ross said, "let's give it a shot. When

can you leave?"

ааа Sisko cut short an anxious step forward. "As soon

as we've finished repairs on the Defiant."

ааа Ross shrugged with just his eyebrows. "Keep me

posted."

а "I will, sir."

ааа With a crisp about-face that really wasn't neces-

sary, Sisko bolted for the door and mastered himself

only enough to keep from running down the corri-

dor. In the turbolift, he tapped his combadge.

а "Sisko to Dax."

а "Dax here, Benjamin."

а "How are those repairs coming?"

ааа "O'Brien says we shouM be spaceworthy in twenty-

four hours or less. We're also being re-armed and

having our stabilizers--"

ааааа "Tell him to cut any corners he can. I want to be

ready in twelve hours."а "Why?"

ааааа "Because we have a--never mind. I'll give you the

details in person. We have aboutre"а "Ross to Sisko."

а "One minute, Dax. Sisko here, Admiral."

ааа "Come back to my office for a moment, would you?

Something else has come up."

ааа "Right away, sir. Sisko out. Dax, are you still

there?"

а 'Tm standing by, Benjamin."

ааа "I've just been ordered back to the admiral's

office. Keep up the repair process and muster all

hands for a crew meeting at ten hundred. Sisko out."

ааа The turbolift almost got a hemorrhage when he

made it reverse course all the way back through the

interior of the station on express setting, but in less

than three minutes he was back in the admiral's

office--and he didn't like that. The longer he spent

around Ross, the higher were his chances of blowing

the delicate balance he'd set up.

ааа The admiral had no secretary at the moment, so

Sisko strode through the outer office and chimed the

door, and was immediately admitted back into

Ross's presence.

а "You wanted to see me, Admiral?"

аHe avoided adding again?

ааа Ross turned from his personal monitor. "I just got

word. Captain Bennet's promotion came through.

At my recommendation, Starfleet's putting her in

charge of the Seventh Tactical Wing. She's one of the

best adjutants I've ever had... strong grasp of

strategy, and an ability to see the big picture."

а Uh-oh . . .

ааа Sisko knew he was sinking fast, but there was only

one response for this--

ааа "It doesn't sound like it's going to be easy to find

someone to take her place."

аDon't say it, please don't say it--

а"I already have," Ross told him. "You."

ааа Unable to keep his expression in check, Sisko tried

to appear astonished. "Sir?"

ааа Ross smiled--Damn, he thinks he's doing me a

kindness/

ааа 'Tve been very impressed with you these last few

weeks. I think we're going to make a good team."

а Sisko struggled not to groan. "Thank you, sir..."

а "Your assignment is effective immediately."

ааа Just before he managed a resigned nod, Sisko felt

his spine go stiff with interior assessment of what

Ross had just said. Starfleet lingo was like legal

lingo--now meant now.

ааа "Immediately, sir... what about the Argolis mis-

sion?"

а "Commander Dax will captain the Defiant."

ааа A cold pit opened in Sisko's stomach. A risky

mission was one thing when he was in charge--but

now, with the idea of sending his crew out without

him, things clicked into place and the full measure

of danger bloomed before him.

а "She is up to it, isn't she?" Ross asked.

ааа With an internal flinch, Sisko realized that Ross

might be misinterpreting his hesitation as some kind

of doubt in Dax's abilities. That's all they needed!

To have a whole new command team assigned!

ааа "Absolutely, sir," he pushed in quickly. "I'd

just... gotten used to the idea of commanding the

mission myself."

ааа But Ross wasn't moved. How many assignments

had he himself been forced to give up because he was

needed somewhere else? Sisko knew that was the

burden of an admiral, and a captain's attachment to

his crew and ship just couldn't play too deeply into

overreaching plans and needs. He also knew that

Ross understood the value of that attachment and

probably hadn't made this damned decision lightly.

ааа He'd blown it. He'd done his job just a little too

well. Impressed Ross with the plans for covert

assaults, and now his plan for the Argolis mission

had broken the fine structure he'd set up. The

balance had cracked, and now he was going to fall

into the fissure.

ааа With a sympathetic glance, Ross motioned to

several padds stacked on his desk. "Look over these

tactical reports. I want your thoughts on the Bolian

operation. We'll meet here at 0600 tomorrow

morning."

ааа With numb hands, Sisko picked up one of the

padds and gazed at it.

ааа Ross sat down at the desk behind which he himself

was trapped. "Ben? Congratulations."

аааа Forcing a plaintive grin, Sisko nodded. Then he

turned and left. What else could he do? Argue?

а Locked in at Starfleet Command.

ааа What would he tell the crew? Go out and risk your

lives in the most dangerous mission so far in this

war... but go without me?

аAnd what would he tell Martok?

аHow would he ever get back to DS9?

0

CHAPTER

ааааааа 2

WORF HURRIED PAST braised panels with equipment

that sparked and snapped in his face and burned his

hands as he passed. Several Klingons, injured or

dead, lay crumpled on the deck. He ignored them

all. On the deck five corridor, he found himself and a

damage-control team stopped short at a locked

conduit hatch. Ch'Targh and the damage-control

team were clustered at the hatch panel, trying to

get in.

а"Report," Worf snapped to get their attention.

ааа Ch'Targh turned. "We sealed the impulse injector,

Commander."

а"Where is my son?"

ааа "Trapped in that corridor, sir. After we secured

the injector, I sent him in there to put away the tools,

and somehow he tripped the emergency lockdown.

We are trying to override it now."

ааа An uncharitable round of laughter rumbled

through the working Klingons. They had their backs

to him, so Worf's scolding glare had no effect.

ааа They were mocking him, yes, but not in private. In

its way, that was progress. He had never taken

chiding well. Other Klingons learned early to field

such social irritations, but Worfhad missed that. His

foster parents had protected him from it.

ааа A sudden stab of realization cut through his chest.

The Rozhenkos would have also protected Alexan-

der, without really meaning to debilitate him. Worf

had been attuned to his own floundering, without

considering that the boy might be floundering too,

not quite as sure of himself and his actions as he

tried so hard to appear.

ааа Was that possible? Had the boy locked himself

away by accident or by design? Was he merely a

confused youth, strangled for attention? Trying any

trick to get it?

ааа Would he try such a trick if he had been tranferred

to another ship? Where his father was not present as

an audience?

ааа No, Martok was right. Worf was the target of

Alexander's actions. Clumsy actions, perhaps, but

Worf knew he was as guilty of faltering, floundering,

taking comfort in inaction.

ааа Ch'Targh let out a victorious grunt, and the hatch

slid open, spewing a gout of smoke, some cinders,

and a small-boned Klingon teenager. Well, one-

quarter Klingon.

ааа Worf suddenly wanted to pay attention to the

other three-quarters of his son.

ааа Alexander faced him bravely and ignored the

chuckles from the other Klingons, so effectively in

fact that soon the chuckling died off and the others

waited silently to see what Worf would do and

whether Alexander would care.

а "You locked yourself in?" Worf asked.

а"Yes, sir."

ааа With some kind of understanding, Worf nodded

even though he didn't really understand, and put his

hand on his son's shoulder. "Come."

ааа Together they walked out of the company of

others, whose opinions no longer mattered.

ааа The others were silent this time. Something had

changed.

а "General. Thank you for coming."

ааа "I come because two of my crew require my help.

As far as friends are concerned, what a waste of

time."

ааа Martok chuckled out the last few words, and

Alexander smiled with some embarrassment. Sitting

opposite his son here in his own quarters, Worf

seemed to relax a little too.

ааа So, Martok sensed, the hard part was over. The

two had reached some kind of understanding that

they could not change each other and perhaps that

аwasn't the key after all. They had stopped trying and

аnow would make headway.

ааа "Please sit down, General," Worf invited. Since

he didn't stand to greet his superior, Martok took

that as a signal that Worf didn't want the advice of a

superior after all, but an elder. Yes, a friend. But

more--a family friend.

а That was well. And about time.

ааа Martok sat down and wished for war nog. Or

something hot. Later.

ааа "What can I do for you?" he asked, deliberately

looking at Worf instead of the boy.

ааааа "My son is a man," Worf said. "I have been seeing

him as a child. What other mistakes have I made?"

а "You really want to know?"

а "I would like your opinion."

ааа "I would love to give it," Martok grunted. Now he

looked at Alexander. "You want to hear also?"

ааа The boy--the young man--nodded. "I'm consid-

ering becoming a member of your house. My father

says it's my choice now. I'd like your opinion."

ааа This was the moment Martok had hoped for. He

had steered events and manipulated personalities in

order to be asked to speak. Therefore he was ready.

ааа "Then I will give you my thoughts by speaking

some truths and by asking questions of you and

requiring honest answers. Fair enough?"

ааа "Fair," Alexander said. Strange that the surly

youth had graduated to a young adult who wanted

the air cleared. This was a good thing.

а Worf only nodded once.

ааа Martok hitched to the edge of his chair and

positioned himself nearly between them, so neither

would imagine he was on the other one's side.

"Worf, you sent your son away many years ago."

а "To live with my parents, yes."

а "Humans."

а "Yes..."

ааа "Alexander, you lived with them and were con-

tent?"

ааа The boy's eyes flickered, uneasy about this line of

talk. "Yes, but..."

ааа "But you wondered where your father was and

why he failed to contact you."

ааа "I wondered very much. I heard stories, but never

from him."

ааа "So you concluded because he was silent that he

did not love you or care for you. Why did you think

that?"

ааа Alexander's expression turned harder. "Because

he didn't send me away until I told him I didn't want

to be a warrior." Now he looked at his father. "You

were ashamed of me."

а"I was never ashamed!"

ааа "Worf--" Martok held out his hand for peace.

"Alexander, did you prefer to be with your grand-

parents?"

ааа "Yes, I preferred them! My father wouldn't speak

to me once I decided not to be a warrior."

аMartok let a moment of quiet come between

them, and let Alexander's revelation ring a little, and

also waited for something more important--for

Alexander to make contact with his father. And he

did. Their eyes met. The shields dropped another

ten percent.

ааа Watching Worf, Martok digested the complete

shock in his first officer's face and the corresponding

realization there.

ааа "Alexander," Martok said, "the word 'father'

does not mean 'all-knowing.' Your father struggled

long to be a warrior. It came more naturally to him,

but it was still a struggle. He struggled so hard that

there is little left in him that is not warrior. He is not

always a Klingon warrior--sometimes he is a Star-

fleet warrior, and that is very different but he has the

courage to be different. Still, he is all warrior. When

you said you had no wish to be a warrior, I think

your father had no idea what to say to you. When

Worf does not know what to say..."

ааа The boy looked at Worf. "He says nothing? Was

that it? Because you didn't know what to say to me,

you became silent?"

ааа Worf stared at him, but in many ways was staring

back at himself. "I had no idea how to cope with

your choice... the choice, not you..."

ааа "What your father is saying, in his lavalike man-

ner, Alexander, is that he does not communicate

well." Martok leaned back in his chair and forced

himself to appear relaxed, signaling that progress

was being made. In fact, it was. "When one is a

child, everything your parents do seems intentional,

doesn't it?"

ааа Alexander twitched and blinked, hearing the un-

spoken answer.

ааа "Even when they do something hurtful," Martok

said, "or clumsy or stupid, you figure there must be a

reason and this must be something they're doing on

purpose. Not just because they fouled up!"

а "Fouled up," the boy murmured.

ааа "Of course!" Martok slapped his own knees. "You

never thought about this. Perhaps your father is just

terrible at being a father. Did you ever think of that?

No, never. You thought he was being a terrible father

on purpose! Because he enjoyed it! Parents can't be

doing something that seems bad simply because they

are incompetent, but on purpose!"

ааа Alexander both slumped and gawked. "You

mean... he..."

ааа "I mean he is as clumsy as a fish when it comes to

knowing how a father should behave. This has

nothing to do with his love for you or his devotion or

how he thinks of you, boy. When you told him you

didn't want to be a warrior, he simply had no idea

what to talk to you about. Not because of you, but

because of himselfl"

ааа With the insight of a young adult instead of a boy,

Alexander gazed at his father as if looking at artwork

for the thousandth time and only now seeing the

brushstrokes. Acrimony suddenly, visibly melted

and sheeted to the deck.

ааа "And you," Martok said, shielding his happiness

as he turned to Worf, "are guilty of clumsy silence, as

are many parents, but you also respond too much

as a warrior. Life is not war, my friend, even when

there is a war going on. Honor is not just fighting

with your hands, but with your heart and your mind.

Your son wants to be something other than a war-

rior, yet he is here. Why do you think he's here?"

ааа Obviously struggling, Worf showed great promise

by leaning forward and rubbing his hands as if to

clean them. "If he has other interests... why would

he come?"

а"Why, Alexander?" Martok relayed.

аThe boy instantly said, "To do my part."

а"Why now?"

а "Because now... there's a war."

ааа "Simple answer! Like millions before him," Mar-

tok said flatly, "he wants to do his part." He stood

up suddenly and clapped his hands to his thighs.

"Now you will speak as father and son, not as

warrior and not-a-warrior."

аWorf looked up in a panic. "You're leaving?"

ааа "That's right. Sink or swim, my friends. I think

you will swim."

ааа When Martok left, Worf expected to feel empty,

desperate, even frightened. But his son's gaze, like

that of an equal, like that of an adult, gave him quick

respite.

аSomehow, the lifeline thrown by Martok was still

here even after the general's sudden exit. Worf at

first hated Martok, then greatly respected him for

leaving just at this moment.

ааа He squirmed, then faced his son and settled down

to speak as equals.

ааа "I have been a poor father," he admitted. "You

were right to be angry with me, but you must believe

I always loved you. I always wanted security and

attention for you. I sent you to my parents because

they could give those to you. I never required you to

be a warrior, Alexanderw"

аааа "But Martok's right, isn't he?" Alexander asked.

"You don't know how to talk about anything else."

а "I am not a very... demonstrative man."

а "You're demonstrative enough to be getting mar-

а fled," the boy keenly noted, with a rumble in his

а throat that hinted at impending manhood.

ааа Worf felt his face flush. "With women, things are

different."

ааа Alexander rolled his eyes and sighed. "I sure hope

so. Father, I don't know if I will want to stay a

warrior after this is all over, if we win... but I want

to be a warrior now, so I can say to my own son that

I did my part when it was important. Do you

understand the difference?"

ааа Gazing in fresh respect, Worf murmured, "You

communicate very well. You speak freely... I

should learn to respect that."

аAlexander nodded. "I am demonstrative."

аSagging a little more, Worf pressed his elbows to

his knees and gazed at the deck. "I don't require you

to be a perfect warrior, Alexander... but if you're

going to be a warrior, you must be able to survive.

For good or worse," he said, looking up now, "you

joined the service and you must do a good job for

yourself and your shipmates. I will help you. In

return, I ask you to help me be a better father. Tell

me when I am lacking, and I will work on it. There

will be times when I respond as a warrior when I

should be responding as a father. To you I grant the

honor of... telling me."

ааа Alexander actually smiled. "And to you I grant the

honor of telling me when I'm a bad warrior."

ааа "I have to," Worf told him. "I'm also your first

officer."

ааа "My first officer, my father, and a member of the

same house," Alexander told him boldly. "General

Martok thinks I've judged you unfairly. If I've been

wrong about you, then I should correct the wrong. I

have a wedding gift for you, Father... to show my

respect and admit my mistake, I'll join the House of

Martok."

ааа Staring until his eyes burned, Worf absorbed the

phenomenal depth of this gesture, this commitment,

and quickly sifted the past few days to make sure he

had not made any pressures or hints--no, this was

all Alexander's idea, his own choice.

ааа Worflowered his head and shook it. "This will not

be easy..."

ааа "I don't care about easy," his son freely accepted.

"'Easy' isn't worth having."

ааа Greatly cheered, Worf suddenly straightened.

"That is a strong sentiment!"

ааа "I can be strong when I have to be," his son said

with a lilt that sustained them both.

ааа "Yes... you can. Alexander, I cannot change the

mistakes I have made, but I promise you from this

day forward I will stand with you."

ааа Unintimidated, Alexander said, "We'll see if you

mean that."

ааа As a bristle of resistance rose in his chest, Worf

realized his son was probably joking, but that he also

had a point. "Yes, we shall. What you are about to

do entails a grave obligation. Do not accept it

lightly."

а"I understand. And I accept."

ааа "Good. I will teach you what you need to be a

warrior... and you will teach me what I need to be

a father. Come."

ааа A wooden case, covered with gold stencils in the

ancient Klingon language, unchanged for nearly four

thousand years.

ааа Martok opened the box slowly, with ceremonial

deliberation. The ready room lights were severely

dimmed, making the candles on the table the pri-

mary source of illumination.

аReverently Martok removed the gray-and-black

crest of the House of Martok, first carved for the

family of his grandfather, whose name he bore and

had honored with his own service record. A rush of

personal pride briefly overwhelmed the general, then

he contained himself and concentrated upon the two

men for whom the crest now made its forty-third

appearance.

ааа He held the crest above a shallow golden bowl

which reflected the glow of the candles in its pol-

ished surface.

ааа "Badge of Martok..." he began. "Badge of cour-

age... badge of honor... badge of loyalty."

ааа Ah, the old words. Shallow in their sound, they

were deep in old meaning. He placed the emblem in

the bowl.

ааа Together with Worf, he chanted, "Badge of

Martok."

ааа Worf turned to his son. "Alexander, give him your

dagger."

ааа The boy flinched as if coming out of a trance, then

handed Martok his weapon solemnly.

ааа Martok waited through the hesitation, then took

the dagger and sliced his own palm. Closing his fist,

he squeezed blood onto the emblem. Forty-three...

How full of pride he was! Even though he had no

more children coming, his house was growing.

а "One blood," he murmured, "one house."

ааа He handed the blade to Worf, who cut himself in

the same manner. "One blood... one house."

аAnd now Alexander, who was not afraid. In fact,

he seemed eager to cut himself and shed his blood

onto the shield. "One blood, one house!"

ааа Satisfied, Martok picked up the jeweled decanter

beside the ceremonial bowl and poured blood wine

all over the insignia, until the blood from their three

hands blended to a single shade. This was eminently

enjoyable, this ceremony, this wallowing in tradi-

tion, despite his preaching to Worf that tradition

was only a shading of their identity. Martok did like

the ambience and the ties which this harkened from

his memory. He thought of his father and his

grandfather, and those were good thoughts for an old

man to enjoy. He felt young again.

ааа Taking one of the candles, he touched the flame to

the liquid. The alcohol ignited instantly and flame

rolled to the edges of the bowl, reflecting in the eyes

of Alexander and Worf as Martok looked at them

both.

ааа For a moment Alexander seemed to have forgot-

ten what to do, but when Martok turned to face him,

he remembered.

ааа "I will be faithful even beyond death!" the boy

vowed.

ааа The fire burned out--he had gotten the words out

in time, luckily, or they would have to begin again.

"Now!" Martok barked.

ааа Alexander's hand plunged into the bowl and he

winced at the hot liquid, but pulled the insignia out

and affixed it to his shoulder.

аBeaming at the young man as if he were his own

son, Martok was pleased that Worf moved to stand

beside Alexander as an equal, not before him as an

elder.

ааа The general drew a firm breath and felt young as

he made the announcement that tomorrow all would

know. The ship would know. The Empire would

know. He would tell them all.

ааа "Welcome to the House of Martok... Alexander,

Son of Worfi"

0

CHAPTER

ааааааа 3

QUARK'S BAR. The 'upper level. An illusion of

sanctum.

ааа Kira Nerys leaned on the metal railing and looked

down over the milling crowd on the first level.

Behind her, Rom v, dped a table, keeping true to his

role as first brother and busboy to the irascible

Quark, which allowed him to nurse his role as

Federation spy.

ааа He had the best qualification to pull it off--he

seemed slow, dopey, and greedy, but wasn't any of

those. Thus, the perfect disguise. Any minute.

ааа Below, several Bajorans were uneasily reac-

quainting themselves with the station, their mood

subdued by the presence of so many Cardassians

and Jem'Hadar soldiers. The Cardassians were hav-

ing a good enough time at the bar and the dabo

tables; the Jem'Hadar were inexplicably standing

around watching, but never joining in. Kira saw

Quark and several Ferengi waiters ducking about,

serving customers.

ааAny minute now...

ааа "There he is," Kira murmured. She stiflened

slightly, then got control over it. "Damar's a crea-

ture of habit, all right."

ааа Almost directly below her, Glinn Damar strode in

the main bar entrance from the Promenade. He had

a particularly annoyed expression on his excuse for a

face today--good. That meant he was getting more

and more frustrated with Dukat's methods of run-

ning the station.

ааа Kira turned her face slightly, so that she could

only move her eyes to pretend to be looking in

another direction.

ааа "After a hard day's work," she narrated, "he

deserves his glass of kanar..."

ааа Damar barked an unintelligible order to Quark,

who moved behind the bar and got the oldest bottle

of kanar. While taking a seat at the bar, Damar

glared at the Jem'Hadar soldiers with unbridled

contempt.

ааа "Why are the Jem'Hadar always in here, he asks

himself," Kira mumbled on, as Rom listened from

behind her. "They don't eat, they don't drink, they

don't gamble... all they do is take up space. Ah--

Damar asks his bartender if he found a padd he was

working on the other day. He misplaced it, and he

wants it back..."

ааа "My brother tells the truth," Rom murmured

back, watching Quark pour the drink for Damar.

"He hasn't seen it."

ааа Appreciative of the scowl Quark got for his hon-

esty, Kira felt a little grin creep across her lips.

ааа "Damar doesn't like that," she uttered quietly.

"The padd contained a draft copy of a secret memo-

randum he was working on concerning the shortage

of white. Without the drug, the Jem'Hadar will run

amok, killing everyone and everything in their

paths... If the Cardassians can't bring down the

minefield and reopen the supply line from the Gam-

ma Quadrant, they're planning to poison the last

ration of white and eliminate the Jem'Hadar before

it's too late. Rom... how did you get hold of

Damar's padd, anyway?"

ааа "I'm good with my hands. Here we go... they've

seen him."

ааа "And the Jem'Hadar Third motions for the others

to follow him to the bar... they pause a few feet

behind Damar... Damar turns, realizing there's

going to be trouble. The Third barks again--and,

1o--he's got the missing padd. And Damar, true to

his nature, accuses them of stealing it."

ааа "The Jem'Hadar didn't like that," Rom said,

tense.

а"Why's he pointing at the table?"

ааа "Because that's where he found it. Right where I

left it."

ааа "Ah--the other Cardassians move to Damar's

side... I knew this was going to work. The Cardas-

sians and the Jem'Hadar may pretend to be allies,

but they hate each other--Quark, don't get in

between--oh!"

а "Ow!... I didn't know my brother could fly..."

ааа "There they go, Rom. Damar and that Jem'Hadar

tearing into each other--I see a knife!"

ааа "That Cardassian's pulling a disruptor rifle! He's

firing!"

а"One Jem'Hadar down!"

а"The others are returning fire! Oooh--"

а"This is bigger than I expected. They're rioting!"

а"Me too, Major! Duck!"

ааа Constable Odo and a handful of Bajoran deputies

had apparently needed nearly twenty minutes to

reestablish some sort of order in the bar, finally

separating the Cardassians and the Jem'Hadar phys-

ically-which was no little trick.

ааа Gul Dukat had listened in amazement at the

report that there was trouble in the bar, yet some-

how he wasn't really surprised.

ааа Dukat stormed into the bar in time to see Weyoun

dressing down the Jem'Hadar Third in the most

aggravated tone the Vorta had used to date. Dukat

had come to believe the Dominion's representative

couldn't actually raise his voice, but evidently he

could.

ааа The brawlers were bloodied and bruised. Several

Bajorans had been injured in the corona of hostility

and were being tended by Bajoran medics and a

nurse. Broken chairs, smashed tables--and scars of

phaser fire. Weapons discharged. Unforgivable.

ааа As he came in, Dukat almost tripped over an

unconscious Jem'soldier who at second glance

seemed to be dead. And over there was another. At

first he was satisfied, almost amused, but then the

crowd parted and Dukat saw two... three dead

Cardassians.

аDead Cardassians! And no battle!

ааа This fired a switch he had never felt click inside

his head before. Allies... now they had killed each

other. There was no treaty for this.

"Who started this! Damar! Give me a report!"

Still furious and yet somehow sheepish, Damar

stepped to him and straightened to attention. "They

stole my padd! There was critical information and

they have no right under our agreement with the

Jem'Hadar that they can look at classified Cardas-

sianm"

ааа "I don't care what they did!" Dukat exploded.

"You shouldn't have let the situation get out of

hand!"

ааа Damar parted his lips and his mouth hung open,

but there was nothing he could say to defend himself

against a "you shouldn't have."

ааа Just to avoid giving him the chance to think of

anything, Dukat whirled just as Weyoun gave his

final glare to the Jem'Hadar Third and said, "You're

reduced six ranks."

ааа Weyoun was upset--Dukat could see that. Of

course he was. The Cardassian/Dominion alliance

was jagged enough without incidental trouble. The

Vorta turned to Dukat and very carefully controlled

his tone as he came to stand near Dukat and made

sure no one else could hear them speaking.

ааа "How could Damar have been so stupid as to

leave such an inflammatory document lying around

for anyone to find?"

ааа Dukat gritted his teeth. "Your men stole it from

him."

а "The Jem'Hadar are not thieves."

а "And Damar is not a liar."

ааа "Keep your voice down," Weyoun warned. "Our

men need to see that we're still allies. Smile.

Dukat --"

а "I'm smiling."

ааа "Gentlemen." Constable Odo stepped toward

them, and suddenly Weyoun mellowed in a rather

horrible way at the nearness of a Founder. Dukat almost threw up.

ааа "I suggest," Odo began, "that we get everyone out

of here as soon as possible."

ааа "Odo's right," Weyoun--of course--said. "Tell

your men they're confined to quarters pending disci-

plinary hearings." When he saw Dukat bristle, he

threw in, "We'll do the same. And... keep...

smiling."

ааа Smiling. How noxious. What sense did that make?

Smile after an event like this. Mightn't it seem more

reasonable to be displeased? What good was there in

pretending?

ааа The war had been going well enough, but not as

well as Dukat had hoped. He was a haunted man,

unable to gain release from the ever-present face in

his mind. That face flickered in the beveling of his

morning mirror. It blew by in the glossy black

facings on the station's storefronts. A shadowy set of

eyes and a firm chin showed in the orb of the

baseball on his desk when he happened to turn just

right. He was being watched, eternally watched.

ааа And there was a voice, too. It came in every report

about activity on the Federation and Klingon fronts.

Significant wins were always dogged by hurtful

losses. Scissorlike raids dotted the star charts and

were impossible to predict or track... and in most

of those, there was a report of a familiar ship making

daring cuts into Cardassian and Dominion holdings.

ааа Always that face... laughing at him. Murmuring

predictions. Threats.

ааа Why was Odo looking at the upper deck? There's

nothing up there... oh, Rom, nervously finishing

cleaning tables. That retarded Ferengi stump, why

would Odo pay attention to him? Just checking the

vicinity, most likely. Certainly there was nothing

Rom had to offer. Was there someone else up there?

ааа Irritated, Dukat dispensed with concerns about

Odo and the upper deck, which couldn't possibly

mean anything on a day when his own men and the

Jem'Hadar had caused far more trouble than anyone

else on a station of hostiles. That was not the corner

from which he expected trouble to come.

ааа In fact, the Bajorans had been annoyingly steady,

as had everyone else on the station, give or take that

little temper tantrum by Vedek Kassim which had

ultimately come to nothing but her own crushed

skull. A charming display of sacrifice, but ultimately

fruitless. What the Vedek had hoped to accomplish

was beyond Dukat's reasoning.

ааа Well, the latest tally... one dead Vedek, two

dead Jem'Hadar, three dead Cardassians. One em-

barrassed Weyoun. Acceptable.

ааа He turned and left the bar, followed by the phan-

tom face in the curved rim of a table that had been

sheared in half.

а"Odo, you wanted to see me?"

ааа Kira Nerys strolled into Odo's office, a little more

pleased with herself now that she had talked herself

into the idea that this was a real war and if the

enemy died, well... then they died.

ааа Odo was pacing behind his desk, and if his mask-

like face had given her any hints over the years she

had learned to recognize irritation when she saw it.

ааа "Well?" he asked. "Don't you have anything to say

to me?"

ааа Tilting her head a little, Kira fished about with,

"You mean what happened in Quark's?" When he

nodded, she decided to take credit. "It worked better

than I expected."

а "I knew you were behind it!"

ааааа "Of course you did," she told him. "We discussed

it at the last Resistance meeting."а "And I said it was a bad idea!"

ааа "Yes, you did." Annoyed at the memory of his

resisting the Resistance, Kira let her indignation

show. "And then you walked out of the room as if

there was nothing more to say. But Rom and Jake

stayed and we discussed it. And y'know what? I

decided it was a good idea!"

а"So you went ahead and did it behind my back?"

а"Why are you taking it so personally?"

ааа "How do you expect me to take it? I spend my

days sitting on the Council with Dukat and Weyoun,

doing what I can to make sure Bajor survives this

war intact. The last thing I need is to have you

running around causing mayhem. Do you have any

idea what would happen if Dukat found out you

were behind it? It would give him all the excuse he

needs to throw every Bajoran off this station."

ааа "The Federation is losing this war!" Kira chal-

lenged, seeing in him the same complacency she had

kicked aside in herself. "We can't just sit by and do

nothing!"

Odo drew a long breath and tried to calm down.

"There are limits to what we can do."

ааа Kira could see he was trying to sympathize, and

knew, unfortunately, that part of his motivation was

keeping her safe--not all of Bajor or all Bajorans or

the station, but just her. How could she be angry at

someone whom she knew had those unrequited

feelings?

ааа "I'm beginning," she let herself say, "to think you

shouldn't have agreed to sit on that council. It's as if

you've gotten so invested in making sure the station

runs smoothly, you've forgotten there's a war going

on."

ааа He appeared stung, and deeply insulted. "Are you

questioning my loyalties, Major?"

ааа Kira hesitated. She hadn't meant that, but as she

spoke she knew that was indeed how those words

sounded. "I need you, Odo," she said, rather than

waste time stating the obvious. "The Resistance

needs you."

ааа "Answer me," he snapped. "Are you questioning

my loyalties?"

"Of course not! That's not what this is about."

She drew a breath to say more, but the door

opened suddenly and she and Odo both turned,

surprised. There had been no chime, no request to

enter. As she turned, a lump of worry settled into

Kira's stomach--at least they had managed to keep

up the basic courtesies on the station so far. Had

something changed?

ааа Outside the door, flanking the entrance to Odo's

office, several Jem'Hadar soldiers formed two lines,

but did not come inside. Had Dukat gotten fancy?

Wanted an honor guard now? Or was this Weyoun,

staging an entrance?

ааа But the individual making an entrance scarcely

needed fanfare--or guards, for that matter.

ааа The masklike face and plain tan shift implied

simplicity, but this individual, clearly a female, yet

in no way a woman.

ааа "Hello, Odo," the creature said. "It's good to see

you again."

ааа Kira's skin crawled at the sight, at the sound, of

the female shapeshifter. These beings--all but

Odo--gave her the creeps. They were just too

strange, too illusionary. What she was seeing, she

knew, was not at all the truth. A shapeshifter, a

Founder. Weyoun's idea of a god. Kira's idea of

trouble.

ааа Had the mine field fallen? Why was this Founder

on this side of the barrier? Was she trapped?

ааа Odo... he was quite obviously rattled. In fact he

was shaken to the bones. Except that he didn't have

bones, but that was...

ааа So much history here, such agony and joy, then

more agony. This person could convince Odo, and

once had, that a shapeshifter was somehow damaged

by time spent among "solids." Were these the only

two Founders on this side of the wormhole?

ааа Kira almost spoke up, but the female shapeshifter

barely acknowledged that there was anyone but Odo

in the room. The female didn't look at Kira, but kept

her eyes focused on Odo's, as if they were in a

mutually supportive trance.

ааа "Leave us," the female said. "I wish to speak to

Odo."

ааа Elbowing herself forward a step, and quite unim-

pressed, Kira sneered. "Do you?"

ааа With her manner she communicated that she had

no intention of abandoning Odo here with someone

who could influence him so fundamentally.

ааа For the first time, the female turned toward her,

like a mannequin turning on a spit. The female

gazed with those icy eyes, framed by the bony orbits

of that expressionless, creaseless, featureless face.

And in the eyes, there was expression.

ааа "It's all right, Nerys," Odo said before anything

came of the cool glare. "I may as well hear what she

has to say."

ааа Kira quite dismissively turned to him as if to

make the female shapeshifter insignificant. "Are you

sure?"

ааа Hesitant yet somehow secure, Odo paused, then

nodded.

ааа A crawling awareness moved across Kira's shoul-

ders. She was no longer an equal--she was the

"solid" in the room.

ааа What could she do? Odo could make his own

choices.

ааа But could he, her key ally, her friend, her secret

admirer, her link to the Ruling Council... how

much influence, how much remembering, how much

sensation, how much intimacy... how much could

he resist?

ааа Pulled in two different directions, how much

could one person take?

ааа As Kira turned and stalked out of the quarters,

leaving Odo to the mysterious influence of the non-

woman, she knew that he was trapped as much as

she, and she was trapped as much as the female

shapeshifter. They were all trapped behind the lines.

а"You called her 'Nerys.'"

ааа Odo nodded at the female shapeshifter's loaded

statement and reflected that the Founders were not

so distant that they failed to note the difference

between a first name and a family name in a culture

so different from theirs.

ааа "What of it?" he asked her. Admittedly her pres-

ence here both annoyed and somehow insulted him.

ааа "You used to call her 'Major.' Using a solid's

name denotes intimacy."

ааа Oh--that was it. Odo had turned away from her,

but now he turned again to look at the face so like his

own, the plastic and formless humanoid echo, and

suddenly understood why he avoided mirrors.

"You're a long way from horne. Here to keep an eye

on the war effort?"

аааа "I'm content to leave the details of the war to the

аVorta," she told him.

"Then what brings you to Deep Space Nine?"

"You." She fixed her sunken eyes upon him. "I

was trapped here in the Alpha Quadrant when

Captain Sisko mined the entrance to the wormhole.

I've spent too much time among solids. I came

because I felt the need to be with one of my own."

ааа Tender, but all lies. Odo returned her gaze with a

cold glare. "That's ironic, considering what hap-

pened the last time we crossed paths."

ааа "You caused the death of a fellow Changeling,

Odo. Turning you into a solid was the only punish-

ment severe enough for your crime--"

ааааа "And now that I'm a Changeling again, you come

here as if nothing ever happened?"а "We've forgiven you."

ааа A lump of resentment filled Odo's inner being.

"Well, I haven't forgiven you."

ааа She apparently thought she was losing control

over the conversation, because she closed the dis-

tance Odo had managed to put between them. "It's

time to put the past behind us?"

ааа "What about the present?" Odo countered.

"You're waging a war against my home."

ааа "This isn't your home, Odo... you belong with

your own kind, as part of the Great Link."

ааа Her proximity was nerve-rending. He stepped

back a pace. After the Founders passed judgment on

him and cursed him to solid status for so long, he

had learned who he really was--an individual. Now

they held that alluring drug out to him again, now

that they needed his influence here in this quadrant.

ааа "I'm quite content here, thank you," he told her

bluntly, and meant it.

ааа "You say that," she insisted, "becaue you don't

know what you're capable of becoming. Perhaps if

we spend a little time together... you'll begin to

understand."

ааа Tempting, tempting--he gazed into the past, into

the moments of fulfillment his form of life could

have, a spreading, drunken euphoria with the merg-

ing of a million minds and the comfort that came

from forgetting individuality.

ааа Individuality was a responsibility, a moral charge.

Who wouldn't take the chance to suspend such a

burden? To forget there was tomorrow and Tuesday

and Wednesday and things to be done? Challenges to

overcome? Being in a group assuaged those burdens

and suspended the pressures of being an individual.

He had come to think of that suspension as lazy and

lowering.

ааа But as the female stood here, holding the drug

before him...

а "'To become a thing is to know a thing'..."

ааа His own voice startled him. Was she making him

feel this way somehow?

ааа "'To assume its form,'" she continued, "'is to

begin to understand its existence.'"

ааааа Odo offered her a less malevolent gaze. "You tried

to teach me that when I visited our homeworld."

а "I remember."

ааа "I didn't understand what you meant by it at

first," he went on, caught up in reverie, "so when I

came back to the station I got rid of the furniture I

used to have in my quarters and replaced it with

other objects. I've assumed every shape in the

room... I suppose if it weren't for you, I would

never have known the simple pleasure one can take

in spending time existing as a stone or a branch..."

ааа He flinched slightly, knowing how silly that would

sound to any of his other friends.

ааа Then he flinched again--he had just accepted her

as some kind of friend. What was happening to him?

Why were his limbs tingling?

ааа She bowed her head slightly, accepting his words

as gratitude. Perhaps they were.

ааа "I'm glad you learned something from your visit."

She moved closer in their minds, without actually

taking a step. "Your arrival was a time of great joy

for the link... and your departure a time of great

sadness. If only you'd stayed with us, Odo--" "I couldn't."

а"You chose the solids."

а"And I haven't regretted it."

а"Not even a little?"

ааа Why couldn't he lie to her? His chest was cold now

too.

а"I do think about the link from time to time..."

а"It's there for you."

а"I can't..."

ааа "Why? Because of Kira? You still have feelings for

her, don't you?" Through his silence, she seemed to

deduce the rest. "She doesn't share them. I'm

sorry."

ааа Odo snapped a surprised glare toward her. He

hadn't thought she knew how he felt about anything

but the link. "Aren't you going to tell me that I

shouldn't waste my time with a solid?" "You love her."

ааа "I wish t didn't." He gripped his hands and tried

to feel humanoid, tried to sense the separation of his

fingers and the pressure of imitation muscles. "I'm

so vulnerable to her... all she has to do is smile

and I'm happy beyond reason. A minor disagree-

ment between us and I'm devastated. It's absurd!

Sometimes I wish I could reach inside myself and

tear out my feelings for her, but I can't."

The female managed a small smile. "Poor Odo."

"I don't want your pity," he quickly said, embar-

rassed at the adolescent nature of his feelings and his

inability to mature them.

ааа "I'm not offering pity," she said. "I have answers

for your many questions. Why don't you ask me

something? Ask me one of the many things you need

to know for your inner sanctity. Ask me while I have

a form and voice. Ask while we are separate."

ааа That implied there would be another time, with-

out separateness. Odo almost challenged her, almost

denied her the prediction, but something stopped

him.

Answers--to all the questions. Just a few answers.

He forced his voice up. "Have... have our peo-

ple always been shapeshifters? Or was there a time

when we were like the solids?"

ааа "Eons ago we were like them," she said. "Limited

to one form, but we evolved."

аHer tone said not just "evolved," but "superior."

аHe didn't like that.

ааа "On the Homeworld," he pressed, "are you always

in the link or do you sometimes take solid form?"

ааа "We prefer the link. But occasionally it can be

interesting to exist as something else. A tree perhaps

or a cloud in the sky."

ааа That didn't make sense. How could a shapeshifter

become a cloud? Clouds were not a single object, but

millions of single droplets. Could they do that? How

would it be physically possible to divide to such a

microscopic level? How could he ever pull himself

into a unit again? Could such division occur and still

be one being? Curiosity drove Odo to try imagining

such a frightening change. A cloud--he thought that

might be a shapeshifter's idea of death.

ааа "So many questions, Odo," she murmured,

amused.

ааа "I'm sorry," he said. "There's so much that isn't

clear to me."

а Was there death for them? Should he ask?

ааа "If you link with me," she offered, "everything

will be made clear."

ааа Promises pounded on Odo's mind at her offer. He

had promised Kira that he wouldn't. How could he

tell the shapeshifter that a verbal bond to a solid was

holding him back?

ааа "You have to understand," he attempted, "the

link is very overwhelming for me. Right now, it's

easier to talk."

а "But words are so clumsy, so imprecise--"

а "Even so."

а "As you wish."

ааа She paused then, waiting for him to continue his

line of questioning, to search himself for things he

wanted to know and ways to cram the bigness of his

thoughts into the littleness of words, the widely

inarticulate into the confines of linear sentences.

ааа So he decided to start more simply this time. A

place where solids had learned ages ago to begin any

relationship.

а"You've never told me your name."

ааа She looked at him with a peculiar whimsy. "What

use would I have for a name?"

а"To differentiate yourself from others."

аShe managed a perfectly human shrug. "I don't."

а"But... aren't you a separate being?"

а"In a sense."

ааа "When you return to the link, what'11 happen to

the entity I'm talking to right now?"

ааа Her flat lips elongated into a soft grin. "The drop

becomes the ocean."

ааа A glimmer of that vague answer occurred to Odo,

then almost instantly fled. For a moment he thought

he understood, but like grasping at that cloud, he

lost it.

а "And if you choose to take a solid form again?"

а "The ocean becomes the drop."

ааа She apparently knew what that meant, but for

Odo, clinging to the image was troubling.

ааа "Yes," he murmured, trying to convince himself.

"I think I'm beginning to understand."

ааа Without pursuing the bizarre idea that he was

talking to an ocean, he took a few moments to really

try to understand the elusive concepts.

ааа "Then can you answer your own question?" she

wondered. "How many of us are there?"

ааа With the force of a revelation, Odo said, "One and

many. It depends on how you look at it."

ааааа "Very good. You are beginning to understand. But

there's so much more you don't know."а "Tell me," he begged.

ааа "Words would be insufficient. Link with me

again... it's the only way I can give you the under-

standing that you seek."

а "I can't..."

а "Why not?"

аа"I promised Kira..."

аааа "She's a solid. This has nothing to do with her.

аThis is about you, Odo... what do you want?"

ааа Exasperated, torn, his mind blurring to confusion

and need, he intoned, "What I want is some peace."

ааа Her hand took his hand--he didn't stop her,

didn't draw back or flinch away.

ааа "What you need is clarity." Her voice was harp

music against the quiet of deep space. "I can give

you that..."

ааа As the spreading euphoria clouded Odo's mind,

the female closed her eyes and that was the last he

saw of her before his own eyes drifted closed. There

was not the usual darkness of decomposition, but

this time a warm glowing silver light.

а"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

ааа She knew the answer and he hated her for it.

Hated her, loved her, wanted the melting glory she

held out before him, that he so deeply craved and

was so tired of resisting day after day, minute after

minute.

ааа And there were no more minutes, and no more

days. They were energy, flowing like lava, peace,

clarity. Rolling--

аNerys . . .

ааа "What are you doing in here, Damar? Did Dukat

demote you to security detail?"

ааа This was Odo's office. So why wasn't Odo here?

Like he was every other morning? Behind his desk,

mulling over the situation and redistributing securi-

ty around the station?

ааа Instead, there was no Odo and Damar was here,

talking to some Cardassian nondescript.

ааа Damar turned to her. "What can I do for you,

Major?"

а"I'm looking for Odo."

а"He's not here."

а"Do you know where he is?"

а"Yes."

аRrrrrrr.

ааа "That's good," she popped back. "It's always good

to know where your boss is."

ааа Just the slightest inflection on the word "boss"

and Damar bristled at the reminder of his position.

Satisfied, Kira turned away to leave.

ааа "He's in his quarters," Damar said. This time the

inflection was his to wield. "With the other shape-

shifter... jealous, Major?"

ааа Annoyed that she had let him see her reaction to

this, Kira fixed him with a glare. "Try to stay out of

trouble, Damar. You don't want to end up on

sanitation duty."

ааа She left him before he could construct a winning

quip and walked straight to Odo's quarters and

chimed the door. Her arms and legs twitched with

instinct. None of this was good. None of it.а No answer. She chimed again.

а From inside, a muttered response. Good enough.

ааа She walked in, knowing that Odo might as easily

have said get away as come in. "Odo?"

а He stood near the window, gazing out, as if not

registering her presence. He seemed serene, but

somehow that was artificial. Was he drugged? Hyp-

notized?

а Influenced--

а "Nerys," he acknowledged, finally turning.

ааа "I dropped by your office. Damar told me you

were here. With her."

а"She was here. But she's gone now."

а"Are you all right? What did she want?"

а"She didn't want anything..."

а"Then what was she doing here?"

ааа It was almost as if only one voice were actually

speaking. Kira heard her own voice, but Odo's was

like a whispering wind.

ааа "I know how you feel about her, Major, but

there's no reason to be concerned."

ааа She stepped closer. "You don't know how much I

wish I could believe that. You didn't link with her,

did you?"

ааа A frustrated breath came on the wind. "Actu-

ally... I did."

а"You did? What were you thinking!"

ааа A change came over Odo. He seemed to leave the

dream behind long enough to be annoyed. "She

didn't find out about the Resistance, if that's why

you're worried."

ааа "It's not," Kira lied. She dared not get into that

one--just how could he possibly know the female

shapeshifter hadn't sifted his mind while they were

enmeshed in that liquid union they did?

ааа Odo apparently didn't believe her. "The link isn't

about exchanging information... it's about merg-

ing thought and form... idea and sensation."

ааа "Sounds like a perfect way to manipulate

someone."

а"She's not manipulating me."

ааа "Ever since the day you crossed paths, she's been

lying to you," Kira pressed, "tricked you, sat in

judgment of you--I don't trust her. And I don't

understand how you can trust her."

ааа "I linked with her. If she had some hidden motive,

I would've sensed it. She's... just trying to teach

me about myself... about what I'm capable of

becoming."

ааа "An intergalactic warlord, maybe?" Kira blasted

before this turned into a therapy session. "Because

that's what she is!"

ааа Odo didn't even seem inclined to deny that or, at

least, that Kira was justified to think that. "Who

knows? By linking with her, I might be able to make

her understand that the Federation doesn't pose a

threat to her people."

ааа Amazing! Could he really believe that the Domin-

ion was waging a war against a power they thought

might come and hurt them someday? Kira shud-

dered with frustration. How could she explain the

nature of overbearance, tyranny, control, imperi-

alism... he wasn't grasping those right now. He

was lost in something else.

ааа Kira lowered her voice, trying to find his plateau

of common sense. "Do you really believe you can

convince her to call off the war?"

ааа Troubled, Odo paused. "If you could experience

the link, you'd understand the effect it has on my

people. You'd realize that anything is possible...

I'm only beginning to understand it myself. Now

that she's here, I finally have a chance to get some

answers."

ааа "Odo, this isn't the time for you to go off on some

personal quest! There's too much at stake. After the

war's over, do whatever you need to do. If you want

to leave and join the Great Link, I won't try to stop

you. But right now, I need you here. Focused."

Encouraged by a glimmer of guilt, of responsibility,

in Odo's eyes, she surged on. "Promise me you

won't link with her again, Odo... not until this is

over."

ааа He turned away from her, thinking carefully, torn

between his great need and his great commitment.

ааа "All right," he said, very hesitantly. "I won't. Now

if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work. I'll see you

at the Resistance meeting."

ааа He left her then, moving in a controlled but

hurried manner. He wanted to get away from her.

She knew the signals.

ааа Kira didn't turn to watch him leave. He was in

trouble and she knew it, and she also knew she

couldn't do anything about it. What did she have to

offer him that would stand up against physical and

mental merging with the ultimate of wondrous ful-

fillment?

аNothing. He would have to find his own way.

а"See you at the next meeting."

ааа "Maybe," she murmured to the empty room. "But

things are different now... and I'll have to be

careful around you."

Up Guards and at them again!

аааааа The Duke of Wellington

0

CHAPTER

аааааа 4

"ARE YOU TWO ever going to finish?"

"Just a few more minutes, Commander."

"That's 'Captain.' It's an old naval tradition.

Whoever's in command of a ship, regardless of rank,

is referred to as 'Captain.'"

ааа "You mean if I had to take command, I'd be called

'Captain' too?"

ааа "Cadet, by the time you took command, there

wouldn't be anyone left to call you anything."

ааа The banter between Dax, Nog, and O'Brien was

usually a nerve-settler, but today as Ben Sisko stepped

onto the bridge of the Defiant, he was reminded by

the sound of the crew's voices that he would not be

here anymore to hear them or enjoy them, to share

their troubles or agonize in their losses or revel

in their victories. He had been relieved of command,

so that he could take more pressing responsibilities

at Starfleet Command without distraction.

ааа This was his last few minutes on the ship, and they

were about to embark on the mission that had been

his whole reason for wheedling an inside position at

Command. This was his mission, and he would not

be going. The mission was phenomenally dangerous,

chance of success thin, and he wouldn't be there to

share the razor-edged event. Did they understand?

ааа It would be unseemly, unofficerlike, to explain too

much to them or to stand before them and wish

them well while also trying to explain that he really

wanted to go, that he didn't feel right that they were

going without him, and that he was worried.

ааа Negative thoughts wouldn't serve anything but his

own guilts and fears, neither of which had any

constructive bearing on what they were about to do.

A former captain's duty was as important, at mo-

ments like this, as a captain's duty--to be sure the

crew had ultimate confidence in the ship's unit as it

existed, not as it had previously existed. To imply

they needed him would have been an unconsciona-

ble breach.

ааа "Come to take a last look around?" Dax sidled up

next to him, offering that quirky grin which re-

minded him so much of his old friend Curzon Dax,

back in the days when Jadzia... oh, never mind.

Too many lingering thoughts, too much reverie. It

could only hurt.

ааа "Not a last look, I hope," Sisko responded, then

counted on her to understand that he was hoping

they would survive the mission, not hoping he would

be backmeven though he was. "How are the repairs

coming?"

ааа Dax shot a glare at O'Brien and Nog. "Almost

done."

O'Brien smirked and plunged back into his work.

"I wouldn't get too used to that command chair,

old man," Sisko muttered. "When this war's over,

I'm going to want my ship back."

а аа"Fine," she said. "When this war's over, I'm going

on a honeymoon."

ааа "All done here, Captain," O'Brien called as he

stood up from the auxiliary trunks.

ааа "Very good," Sisko said, unfortunately at the

same moment as Dax responded, "All right."

ааа The moment was instantly gone, but all had

heard. None would forget. The embarrassment was

all Sisko's, though Dax, through her smile and shrug,

tried to share it. He nodded to Dax and therewith

gave her the tacit approval to give her own com-

mands.

ааа "Plot a course to the Argolis Cluster," she told her

crew, "and prepare to depart."

ааа Every bell in Sisko's head went off--get out of the

command arena. Hand over the torch. Give her the

ship she commanded. Give the crew their captain.

ааа "Good luck," he simply said, trying to keep from

giving a farewell speech that could just as easily be

taken for a pre-eulogy.

He tried to go to the exit, but Dax followed him.

"I wish you were coming with us, Benjamin."

Generous, because they both knew that and she

didn't have to say it outright.

ааа Sisko broke his stride, but his throat was closing

up. He choked out a quick, "You'll do fine," and

continued into the turbolift, leaving Dax behind

with her gaze drilling into his spine.

ааа He tapped his combadge. "Sisko, zero bravo, K

one."

аThere was no response.

ааа He closed his eyes and listened to the hum of the

turbolift, carrying him first off the Defiant, then back

through the docking area and into the officer-only

access.

ааа When the lift doors opened, General Martok

stood there, waiting for him.

ааа "Zero bravo," Martok quipped. "I am sum-

moned, and I am here."

ааа Not particularly comforted, Sisko stepped out of

the lift. "Unfortunately, so am I."

ааа "Yes... I heard your ship is going without you.

Most disturbing. What do you want me to do?"

ааа "We're going to follow through on the tactical

plan--distract those guard ships with as much trou-

ble and mayhem as you can. Get as many of them as

possible to abandon the Argolis sensor array."

ааа "I will," the general said. "But they will not all

come away."

ааа "I know that. That's why I'm taking another ship

and going in there to help you pull them off."

ааа Martok sat back and blinked. "The admiral's new

adjutant is leaving his desk? With or against or-

ders?"

ааа "Well... a little of both. The admiral already

took me off command of Defiant and he can't undo

that arbitrarily, but I can get leaves of absence at key

points, and this is a key point."

ааа "How did you convince Admiral Ross of such an

arrangement?"

ааа "Oh, somehow he got the idea that somebody

would be ringing his emergency alarm every hour on

the hour until he let me go."

ааа "I... would never blame him for such circum-

spection."

а"So I'm going."

а"On what ship?"

а"Centaur."

а"Captain Reynolds."

а"Yes."

ааа "And does the captain understand the level of our

involvement?"

ааа "Not a bit. What I need from you is the identifica-

tion numbers off those guard ships at the array. We

have to be absolutely certain that any ships we draw

to the area of distraction are in fact the very ships

that would be shooting at Defiant if we weren't

causing trouble nearby. As long as Dax has the

element of surprise, she'll handle the sensor array."

ааа Sisko drew a deep breath after all those hopeful

sentences and steadied his cold nerves. Somehow all

this seemed too simple, too easy, and none of it

would be either of those. The bedamned complica-

tion of being Ross's full adjutant required him to

juggle too many glass balls. Despite his attraction to

Dax's mission, other things couldn't be ignored. The

last few days had been a scramble to reassign or

retire problems and duties so he could be ready to go

out with Charlie Reynolds on the Centaur and do

what he had to do.

ааа Martok had been silent for the past few seconds,

but Sisko constantly felt the canny gaze of the

Klingon general, who missed very little on the subtle

plane. Unlike most Klingons, Martok was aware of

underlying worries, motives, desires, and he had

patience to see how those faculties evolved.

ааа So he was looking at Sisko, and waiting. Sisko

knew the questions Martok wanted to ask, would

have to ask in order to pursue the mission effec-

tively.

ааа "You'll need a target for your distraction maneu-

ver," Sisko offered without having to be asked. "We

destroyed the main ketracel-white facility the Do-

minion had on this side of the wormhole, and that

crippled them badly. They're staying crippled as

long as the wormhole stays mined. That makes any

repository of ketracel white very valuable to them."

"You have found another facility?" Martok asked.

"Not a manufacturing plant, but a storage barge.

It's close enough to the Argolis Cluster that the ships

guarding the sensor array might be drawn off if we

stage an attack on the barge."

ааа Suddenly eager, Martok leaned forward and

glared at him. "This is remarkable news! How have

they hidden this barge?"

ааа "It's not a Dominion or Jem'Hadar barge. It's an

old Federation barge they confiscated." A little em-

barrassed, Sisko shrugged. "We just didn't bother

checking out our own ship configuration. They've

never done that before."

аAgreeing with a nod, Martok remained silent.

ааа "I can't give you any more information," Sisko

went on, "until we're closer to the source. The barge

is heavily guarded by planetary salvos from the

planet it's orbiting."

а "Can we destroy the barge?"

ааа "We can certainly try, but I doubt we'll succeed.

That's not going to be my goal. I want the ID

numbers off any ships that come in. Then we'll have

to line them up and fight until we attract at least half

of the guard ships from the array."

"Very well, my friend. This is a strange day."

"Yes, it is." Unwilling to talk about this anymore

until the mission was under way, Sisko shifted gears

and asked, "How are things on Rotarran, General? I

understand you got a whole rank of new recruits."

"Fine young Klingons," Martok said. "Including

one you may know. Alexander Roshenko."

ааа Sisko snapped him a look. "Worfs son? He signed

up?"

ааа "He did. There were jagged moments, but we may

have a warrior someday. He has shed too little blood

in his life."

ааа Those simple sentences, Sisko knew, implied

much more stress than Martok would ever say.

There was some poetry in the phrase "too little

blood," commenting about the fact that Alexander

had been protected through much of his life from the

harshness of life as a Klingon in Klingon society. He

was a part human, part Klingon boy who now,

apparently, wanted to live in the Klingon sphere, but

like his father had been raised somewhere else and

now had a great struggle ahead.

ааа Worf had embraced Klingon ways too much, then

had to pull back and find the place in his mind and

soul where he was no particular cultural possession,

but an individual. He was still fighting with that,

Sisko knew, and also knew that Dax enjoyed teasing

him about it with regard to their impending mar-

riage ceremony. Worf wanted all the trappings of

Klingon tradition, as if he were desperate to show

his willingness to do the surface things if only he

could reserve individuality for the times that really

counted.

аSisko inwardly flinched. He was involving himself

again in the lives of the crew who were no longer his

to command. Worf was on Martok's ship now.

O'Brien and Nog and Bashir and the others--they

were on Dax's ship now. If they died on this mission,

he wouldn't know it until long after.

ааа If they even turned up missing in space, he'd have

to send somebody else on the search mission. He

couldn't justify abandoning his responsibilities as

Ross's adjutant to run the search himself--and the

reason would be that the Defiant had gone out on a

high-risk mission in hostile space and was probably

destroyed. They weren't just going on a picnic and

getting lost in the woods. He would be forced by

convention to assign the search to a border cutter.

He couldn't justify going himself. Some strings were

just too taut to pull.

ааа "If we're not killed at the barge," Sisko said,

turning to his friend and comrade in silence, 'Tll

have to come back here immediately. I won't be able

to stay out there and keep an eye on the Defiant.

We're going to lose contact with them when they ram

through the cluster. I won't be able to stay and

search for them. I'm asking you to monitor all the

signals as long as you can, General. Do everything

you can for them. They're more than just my friends

and my crew. They're the alliance's best hope. So far

we've been holding on, but we can't win a war that

way. Holding on costs too much and we're slipping.

We've got to start making real progress. We've got to

start hurting the enemy. We've got to start reclaim-

ing what's ours. We've got to go out there, General.

We've got to find that barge and fight a losing battle

as long as it takes. We've got to distract as we have

never distracted before."

ааа Glancing up from the crate of new glassware he

was unpacking, Quark surveyed his realm. A quiet

day at the bar. The place wasn't completely put back

together, but at least all the new tables were finally

being delivered and most of the blood had been

scrubbed off the floor. Most of it.

ааа A few patrons muddled about among the waiters

who were rearranging the tables. So far, so good,

except that he was beginning to prefer the place

empty than crowded with the people who had been

around here lately. Now, there was a dumb thought.

Prefer the place empty. He was slipping, no doubt

about it.

аUch--here came Damar.

ааа What did he want? Why was he in here so much

lately? Start another fight?

ааа "Pardon our appearance," Quark said with un-

shielded sarcasm. "We're renovating."

ааа Damar slung his leg over a barstool. "Kanar--not

that one. The twenty-seven."

ааа "The twenty-seven?" Quark waited for a confirm-

ing nod, then fished to the back of the shelf for the

gilded decanter with the fluted neck. "Expensive."

а"I can afford it," Damar said, "on a gul's salary."

аQuark halted in the middle of dusting the decant-

er. "Wait a minute! You start a fight in my bar and

you're getting promoted? What kind of way is that to

run an army{"

ааа "Dukat isn't happy about what happened. I had to

find some way to make it up to him."

а "Mmmmlet's hope it was something big."

ааа With a prideful smirk, Damar hedged, "Let's just

say, it's going to change the course of history."

ааа Quark uncorked the decanter, but was actually

involved in Damar's expression and the glitter of

self-satisfaction he saw there. The Cardassian was

obviously up to something that could only be bad for

the Federation.

а So? What difference did it make?

ааа The internal question very abruptly answered

itself.

ааа Giving the decanter a swish, he pressed up to the

bar to pour Damar's glass of expensive twenty-

seven. "As a businessman, I'm very interested in the

course of history... this one's on me."

ааа Damar smiled, leering at Quark in a way that

suggested he knew Quark was trying to snitch infor-

mation. "That's very kind of you, Quark," he said,

"but I can't talk about it."

ааа Quark shrugged. "Of course. I understand. Enjoy

your drink."

ааа Leaving well enough alone, he topped off the drink

after Damar's first sip, then turned to rearrange the

bottles on the bar.

ааа "Let me share that with you." Quark poured

himself a glass from the decanter. "It's not every day

somebody comes in here who can appreciate a bottle

of twenty-seven kanar."

ааа "I thought bartenders didn't drink," the Cardas-

sian claimed.

ааа "Oh, that's just a legend. Us bartenders, we're the

ones who really know how to discriminate. We're

experts in our field. How else could we become

experts if we didn't sample our wares? Does the

scientist never experiment? Does the clergy never

pray? Here, let me fill yours up again. Ah... mine

tOO . . ."

ааа The potent brew instantly sent fumes racing

through his sinuses, directly into his cranial struc-

ture. Good, good stuff. It worked a little faster on

Ferengi than Cardassian, but soon it would soak

into Damar's thick hide and he'd start to feel the

ett~cts.

ааа He smiled and nodded companionably at Damar,

who was savoring the kanar. Damar's kanar. That

was funny. Damar's twenty-seven kanars. Pretty

soon, with a little luck, Quark would see twenty-

seven Damars drinking twenty-seven kanars. That

was funny too.

аAnother drink to wash down that picture.

ааа Oh, too late. The Damars were replicating. Anoth-

er drink to blur his eyes.

а"I'm leaving now," he said to the three Damars

who were already sitting there. "You fellas enjoy

your kanars. You just keep on drinking. And just tell

me later what you owe me."

а "You trust me for that?" Damar asked.

ааа "Of course I trust you! We're at war, we're not

uncivilized! You're a Cardassian officer! I mean, I

wouldn't want my daughter to... but trust? Sure!

You Damars keep enjoying your kanars and I'll be

back in a while. Damars and kanars... y'know, it

really is funny."

ааа "You know what, Quark?" Damar rolled his unfo-

cused eyes. "I think... I trust you too."

ааа "Well, that's no surprise," Quark snipped. "It's

amazing what a little encouragement can do. I'm a

very trustable guy."

ааа "You are..." Damar gazed at him in pure won-

derment. "I never noticed before... you're like a

doctor or a... a father."

ааа "That's right. I'm your father. You can tell me

anything. Anything at all. In fact, you know what?

You have to tell me your innermost secrets. You

must tell me... or trust is nothing between us and

I'll have to just... never speak to you again."

ааа "No? Almost coming off his stool, Damar

grasped Quark's arm. "No... stay, please stay. Stay

and I'll tell you how history will change."

ааа "Okay." Pour two more glasses full, blink, clear

the throat, tilt the best ear forward. "Have a little

more. That's right. Savor it... swallow it... good

boy. Now... tell me... how are you going to get

that promotion we both know you so richly de-

serve?"

ааа Damar glanced around, pretending he could see

through his blue-rimmed drunken eyes, clutched his

glass, and turned to the new savior of his universe,

the holy high Quark.

ааа "I... have figured out a way... to bring down

the moan feld."

Quark stood back. "The moan feld?"

"That's right. The mean fold."

"Mean fold... oh... are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I had to do something, so this is what

I did. I went around and gathered up all the deflector

energy ratios on those moans, and I... thought of

something. It can work. Dukat's ordered the engi-

neers to start field tests."

ааа Quark shook his head and filled Damar's glass.

"Defecting. That's a serious business. I mean, run-

ning out on people who've been counting on

you...

ааа "That's right, and we can use the station's array to

do it, too."

ааа "Now, this impresses me. I always had faith in

you. Now, and only now, I understand why Gul

Dukat relies on you so much, Damar. If you weren't

a malleable sot right now, why, I'd get down on six

of my knees and worship the slime you crawled out

of. But, listen, I gotta go."

ааа Disappointment creased Damar's scales. "So

soon?"

ааа "Oh, I'll be back. And this decanter of twenty-

seven... I'm going to put it right over there, on a

special shelf. Nobody but me ever touches that shelf.

That'll be the Damar bottle. The Damar kanar.

After you're finished with your drink, you go have a

nice nap and forget you ever talked to me."

а "That's what I'm going to do."

ааааа "Oh, I know you will. Have a nice afternoon,

Damar, you dirty gray snake."а "You too, Cork."

ааа Ah, the Promenade. What a wonderful place. The

walk around the ring cleared Quark's head a little,

but by the time he found Kira's quarters--when had

this door been moved?--he felt as if somebody were

behind him, pushing. Ding ding.а "Come in."

ааа Quark melted through the door, thinking he was

very upright indeed for a person with a slug of the

good stuff smarming around his sinuses.

ааа Oh, good. The whole team. Kira, Odo, Jake, and

Rom. What an adorable ugly bunch of life-forms.

ааа "Brother!" Rom looked surprised. "Are you all

right?"

аааа "No," Quark admitted. "I'm not all right. I just

shared a bottle of kanar with Damar. That rhymes."

а "You're drunk." Who was that? Three Jake Siskos.

а "Of course I'm drunk," Quark told them. "I

wouldn't risk coming here and associating myself

with your little 'Resistance cell' if I wasn't drunk!"

ааа The two Kiras over there gave him a scolding

glare. "Maybe you should leave before someone sees

you."

аRight. Leave. Good. He sat down.

ааа "I've tried," he sighed, and shook his swimming

head. "I've tried my best to run my establishment

under this occupation. But y'know what? It's no

fun!"

ааа They stared at him, the whole roomful of them,

and he lowered his voice so none of the Cardassians

flapping around the ceiling would be able to hear. "I

don't like Cardassians... they're mean and they're

arrogant... and I can't stand the Jem'Hadar!

They're creepy! They just stand there like statues,

staring at you." The memory brought a shiver, and

he blinked. "I've had it. I don't want to spend the

rest of my life doing business with these people. I

want the Federation back." Raising his hands to the

gods of barkeeping, he wailed, "I want to sell root

beer again!"

ааа "All right," one of the Kiras said. "You've made

your point."

ааа "How can I relax when thousands of Jem'Hadar

ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole,

waiting to come through?"

ааа "Don't worry about it," Jake number two said.

"They're stuck there."

а "Not if what Damar told me is true."

ааа Ah, they were amazed! They wondered how he got

Damar to talk to him, to trust him. He couldn't tell

them, of course, about the vial of red powder, but

that didn't matter anyway.

а "What are you talking about?" Kira demanded.

ааа Quark turned to her. Where was she, anyway? Oh,

right there.

ааа "He said he came up with a way to deactivate the

mines. Dukat wants him to start field tests right

away."

ааа They thought he was brilliant. He could tell be-

cause the whole crowd was just gawking at him with

their eyes big and their mouths open and they were

too stunned to applaud.

ааа "Well?" he prodded. "Are you just going to sit

there? Or are you going to do something about it?"

ааа The crowd went wild. Cheering and whooping and

patting him on the back. Then somebody shoved a

hot mug into his hand. What was this stuff?.

а Coffee?

а "Drink it!"

а"Okay, don't push..."

ааа "Come on, Quark, think!" Kira hovered a couple

of inches from his face. "It's important! Did Damar

say anything about how he was planning to deacti-

vate the mines?"

ааа "Yes. He said something about the station's de-

fector."

ааа Kira looked at Odo, who leaned forward and

repeated, "A defector?"

ааа "That's impossible," Kira said. "The only person

on the station who knows anything about how the

mines work is..."

ааа "Me," Rom confirmed. Then he paused, as every-

body suddenly looked at him.

ааа But something was moving around inside the

fumes in Quark's head and he held up a hand.

"Defector... that doesn't sound right. Maybe he

said deflector. Yeah, that's it! He's going to use the

station's deflector array."

аKira turned. "What do you think, Rom?"

ааа Quark's brother looked troubled. "I'm glad it

wasn't me--"

ааа "About the deflector array! Is there any way to use

it to deactivate the mines!"

ааа "No." Rom sounded confident. "I designed the

mines to be self-replicating. The only way to keep

them from replacing themselves is to isolate them in

an antigraviton beam. The deflector array can't do

that."

ааа Good. Problem solved. Quark took another suck

on the coffeemdisgusting stuff, but something about

it made him keep drinking. Kind of like the kanar

with the red stuff in itm "Unless..."

аHe looked up. Had Rom said something else?

аRom was staring at the chair Quark was sitting in.

"Unless you reconfigured the field generators...

and refocused the emitters... which would turn

the deflector array into one big antigraviton

beam..."

ааа Quark reacted to a surge of clear-headed frustra-

tion. "Why didn't you think of that when you set up

the mine field!"

а "I don't know..."

а "He doesn't know/"

ааа "Quark." Kira cut him off, still looking at Rom.

"How can we disable the deflector array?"

ааа With a flicker of hope, Rom said, "All you have to

do is access the EPS feed and overload the wave-

guide."

а "Let's do it!"

ааа "But there's no way to get to the EPS feed. It's in a

secured conduit rigged with alarms."

ааа "Odo." Kira turned quickly. "Can you disable

those alarms?"

ааа "I can take them off-line for about five minutes ifI

run a security diagnostic."

а "Rom, will that give you enough time?"

а "I think sore"

ааа "All right, you and I will meet here. Odo, at

exactly 0800, you'll begin the diagnostic. Any ques-

tions?"

ааа Sensitive to the urgency in her voice, Quark put

down his coffee cup. "Yes. When will Rom be back

at work? I have ten crates ofyamok sauce that need

to be unpacked. I have to keep that bar open, you

know! It's critical to the future of the alliance! Well?

What are you looking at me like that for?"

ааа "Odo should be on his way to his office by now.

Remember, he's going to interrupt the sensor alarms

at exactly eight hundred hours." 'TII be ready."

а"I'11 contact you if there's a problem."

ааа Kira pulled the hatch cover off the access conduit

in the second habitat ring corridor. This was as close

as she and Rom could get to the deflector array

controls without anyone's becoming suspicious or

going into an obviously restricted area. Bad enough

they were carrying a basket of fruit to disguise

Rom's tools, but that was apparently the best Rom

could think off An engineer, yes. A master of

deception... not really.

ааа Rom climbed into the conduit, taking the fruit

basket with him.

ааа "Good luck with your delivery," Kira told him,

and shoved the hatch cover back into place.

ааа She tapped her cornbadge. "Computer, give me

the time."

а "Seven hundred hours, fifty-eight minutes."

ааа That gave Rom two minutes to get to the deflec-

tors. Hurrying back down the corridor, Kira made

her way quicklywbut not too quickly--toward the

security office. She tried to keep any emotion out of

her face that might imply she was happy--yes, she

was. Happy that her little Resistance could do some-

thing to slow down the Dominion's takeover of this

quadrant. Happy that Odo seemed to be still with

them, despite his involvement with the female

shapeshifter, whom Kira trusted no farther than she

could spit.

Seven hundred fifty-nine... so far, so good.

Without bothering to chime the security office

door and interrupt Odo from doing what they had

agreed he would do, she strode straight in and parted

her lips to tell him that everything was going as

planned.

ааа Except there was no one to tell. The room was

quiet, as usual, but held a lonely chill. Odo wasn't

here.

ааа "Odo?" Quickly she slapped her combadge. "Kira

to Odo."

ааа She waited--only a few seconds to go. Rom would

be getting close to...

аThe combadge was silent.

а"Kira to Odo! Please respond!"

аSilence. Deadly silence.

а"Odo!"

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon in front of them,

а Volley'd and thunder'd...

CHAPTER

ааааааа 5

"COMPUTER, TIME!"

а"Seven hundred hours, fifty-nine minutes."

а"Kira to Rom--"

а"Hello, Major."

ааа She swung around, cutting off her own call to

Rom, and it was a good thing, for here was Damar,

glaring down at her.

а"Just the person I was looking for," he said.

ааа Now what? Less than thirty seconds to go--Rom

had to be warned.

ааа "Congratulations on your promotion," Kira shot

out, "but we'll have to discuss the personnel report

some other time."

ааа She tried to slip past him, but he stopped her.

"We'll discuss it now," he insisted.

аDid he know already?

ааа Fiercely, she shook off his grip and snarled, "I

don't think so!"

ааа Perhaps he would take it as a signal, as a clue, but

she didn't care. She didn't have time for caution and

Damar already knew she couldn't stand him.

ааа She rushed out into the corridor and barely pos-

sessed the self-control to wait the extra second for

the office door to close behind her.

а"Kira to Rom! Don't open that hatch!"

а'7 already did "

а"Get out of there!"

ааа She almost shouted again, but Damar shot out of

the office, stepped past her, and signaled to two

passing Cardassian guards.

а"Intruder alert! Come with me!"

ааа "When we destroyed the processing station, the

Dominion suddenly had something to protect--

their last storage of ketracel white. We attacked that

processing station for two reasons--one, to deprive

them of the white, and two, to get them to protect

the barge. The Dominion counts on the Jem'Hadar,

and therefore they must have white."

ааа "Yes," General Martok agreed, rather uselessly, as

he and Sisko stood in the privacy of Martok's

quarters on Rotarran. "They have made a grave

mistake, placing the barge in orbit so near the

Argolis Cluster, where they have their precious sen-

sor array."

ааа "I don't think they realized any problem," Sisko

said, "luckily for us. They just used the barge

because it was already there. I suppose they might've

thought Starfleet would notice it if they moved it. A

good bet, but not good enough. We've got an edge."

"What kind of edge are you meaning, Captain?"

"A psychological one. The Dominion has suffered

a great loss in that processing facility. Now they have

to put most of their stock in their storage bank

of white. They need the white as much as the

Jem'Hadar need it, because the Dominion needs the

Jem'Hadar. You know, General, there's a constant

threat hanging over the Dominion. The shapeshift-

ers themselves aren't fighters. Neither are the Vorta.

They all need the Jem'Hadar to do their heavy lifting

for them. The Jem'Hadar haven't really figured that

out yet because they're at the mercy of the Vorta and

the shapeshifters, who control the ketracel-white

supply."

ааа Sisko drew a long breath, tried to relax--more

and more rare these days--and to think clearly.

ааа "If the day ever comes," he went on, "when the

Jem'Hadar control a major portion of ketracel

white, there's the looming chance that they'll turn on

the Dominion and negotiate for more power, or even

for independence. The Dominion must know that's

a possibility."

ааа "Even more possible in this time of war," Martok

added, "would be the Federation's control of a

portion of white, and therefore Federation control of

Jem'Hadar. That, surely, must frighten the Domin-

ion, and even more the Vorta."

ааа With a musing smile, Sisko agreed. "It'd scare me

if I were them. It's very hard to design a creature

intelligent enough to fight battles, make choices,

repair ships, and plan strategy without also giving it

enough independent thought that it might not be

completely subservient. The Jem'Hadar are in thrall

to the Dominion, but they're independent enough to

be turned if somebody else controls the white or if

they get control of it themselves. That's our trump

card, General... I want to make the Dominion

think we're trying to capture that storage facility, not

just destroy it. If they believe the Federation actually

might get a grip on the Jem'Hadar, that'll frighten

them more than just a shortage of white. We have to

go in and stage some kind of capturing maneuver on

that barge, without appearing that we're trying to

destroy it. That's the illusion."

ааа Martok frowned. "An illusion that will leave us

without the barge."

ааа "No, we won't have the barge. We'll come out of

that assault looking like losers. But if the Dominion

thinks we're grabbing their last repository of lever-

age, they're going to pull guard ships off that sensor

array. The storage barge loaded with ketracel white

will suddenly be a lot more valuable at the immedi-

ate moment. I want control over that immediate

moment, General."

аStill seeming unconvinced, Martok tilted his mas-

sive head. "They will not leave the array unpro-

tected, Captain, you know that. We may draw off

some of the ships, but hardly all. Perhaps not enough

to help Dax."

ааа "I know it's a chance. But if you create a big

enough stir, we can keep Dax from having to face an

overwhelming force. You said you have the ID

information for those ships?"

ааа "Gained at great cost." Martok opened a safe near

his bunk and pulled out a spy's gadget--a coded pill

about the size of a fingernail infused with informa-

tion on a chip that could be fed into almost any

computer. He immediately handed the pill to Sisko.

"The prize of the day. We had to fight them for

nearly an hour, then escape with our lives. Two

Klingon fighters did not escape at all. For my crew, it

was very hard to run away."

ааа Turning the precious pill in his hands, Sisko

assured, "You ran for good reason, Martok. Keep

the bigger picture in mind."

ааа "I can, but a Klingon crew is an impatient animal

with too much pride. How will Dax kill an array of a

hundred sensor dishes with one ship?"

ааа Until that question came up, Ben Sisko had been

pleased enough with explaining his plan to General

Martok in the privacy of the general's own quarters

on the Klingon bird of prey he had continued to fly

for years despite promotions and senior status. That

choice made Sisko admire Martok, and miss the

Defiant. Guess that was no mystery.

аNow for the hard part.

ааа "We came up with a rough plan. It was O'Brien's

idea." Sisko dropped into Martok's desk chair. The

general was sitting on his bunk, as if he knew that

Sisko would not sit there and he wanted him to sit

down. Fine, sit. "I'll admit, I don't like it much,

but... this is war. The sensor array is made up of

over a hundred antenna dishes situated on asteroids

and planets all over the Argolis system, flanking the

cluster itself. To take each one out--"

ааа "Would take a year of ground assault missions,"

Martok said with a nod.

ааа Sisko shrugged. "Or a hell of a lot of lucky hits

from space. We could never get even half of them

from space. Our tidy little alternative is to hit the

main broadcast station on a planet near the middle

of the array. That station controls the hundred

individual dishes."

ааа Cranking around to the replicator, Martok keyed

up a couple of hot drinks. "How will you do it?"

ааа "We'll pretend to do the insane and impractical

obvious thing--attack a bunch of these dishes, take

all the potshots we want, while surreptitiously drop-

ping one commando--"

а Martok's brows shot up. "One man?"

ааа "Yes, one man, right into the area of the main

broadcast station. This man, then, with stealth and

brilliance and, I hope, good luck, exacts a singular

destructive assault on the station."

а "Blows it up."

ааа "Yes, blows it up. Meanwhile, the Defiant contin-

ues hit-and-running the individual dishes, distract-

ing any ships left defending them and hopefully

keeping them from knowing that there's a man

infiltrating the source."

а "And for us, you and I..."

ааа "You and I stage our attack on the ketracel-white

barge. We'll try not to take withering losses, General.

I'm afraid your crew is going to have to swallow

another retreat. The mission isn't to destroy the

station--"

ааа "It is rather to attract and distract the Jem'Hadar

guarding the Argolis array for as long as possible."

ааа "Yes. We won't even attempt to sneak in. We'll

make a lot of noise. Circle and posture long enough

to confirm the identity of any ships that show up and

hope the numbers match up with the ones on this

list. That way, Dax'11 only have to deal with the

picket ships left behind."

ааа Martok sipped his drink and slowly nodded, de-

signing the whole scheme in his mind. "One ques-

tion."

ааа Somehow this was a relief for Sisko. He'd tried to

think of everything, tried to make this mission

something he liked, but no matter what he did or

how he twisted mentally, he couldn't enjoy sending

the Defiant into enemy space by itself, then subdi-

viding one person away from the ship to exact an

assault on a planet that probably had enemy troops

on the surface. What hadn't he thought of?.

а"Please," he invited, "ask your question."

ааа "Why can you not just attack the broadcast base

from space? Why drop someone in on a suicide

mission when you can hit from space?"

ааа This was the thing that hurt most, that made

Sisko's stomach kick against the hot drink he

clutched. Suicide mission.

ааа "Intelligence sent in cloaked probes and have

brought back some detailed analyses of how the

array works. It must've taken the Dominion months

to set up the sensor dishes. Starfleet has figured out

that the broadcast base can't be destroyed from

outside without triggering independent dishes to run

themselves. If the main base shuts down from an

outside attack, the dishes take over their own pro-

gramming. We have to prevent that signal from

being sent."

ааа "Waitwthis confuses me. If the broadcast base is

destroyed, the sensor dishes take over for them-

selves?"

ааа "Yes, for a certain amount of time, until the main

broadcast can be rebuilt, they can run themselves.

They'll do that if they're cut off from the broadcast

base by an outside strike."

ааа "An outside strike. So you mean that your com-

mando can somehow obliterate the base from inside,

without triggering the dishes to go off and run

themselves independently. You need an internal

strike. You need this suicide mission."

а"That's... that's right. The last thing the Domin-

ion wants is for those dishes to fall into enemy

hands. We could just as easily use the array against

them. If the base is destroyed from outside, the dishes

assume the Dominion hasn't yet lost the planet and

can take control again. However, if the base is de-

stroyed from inside, the dishes assume the planet is

lost, the base is about to fall into enemy hands, and is

being controlled from inside. It sends a signal to the

dishes that fries them instead of turning them on

independently. They'll all self-destruct. But we have

to send the right kind of signal to get them to do

that."

ааа "So there must be technical wizardry from your

commando."

а аа"As Chief O'Brien explains it, the infiltrator has to

go inside and adjust the signals to trick the array into

thinking it's in enemy hands or that the Jem'Hadar

have destroyed the base themselves. Then, all the

dishes will self-immolate instead of taking over

programming."

ааа "Your commando must land upon this planet and

go inside the building, which is likely guarded by

many Jem'Hadar soldiers and probably a forcefield

and probably mines. He must trigger this destruct

signal to a hundred dishes on a hundred asteroids

and planets and somehow get out alive by being

picked up by the Defiant, which will be under attack

in space. This is your plan."

аAn unbidden groan rose in Sisko's throat. His

hands fell into his lap. "That's just about... the

whole picture."

ааа Martok gazed at him for several seconds. Then he

raised his mug.

ааа "Everyone must die sometime," he said, "and the

fortunate die in battle. Congratulate your comman-

do for me, Captain. He is on the way to an excellent

death."

ааа Miles O'Brien made his way from his cramped

quarters aboard Defiant to Dax's quarters. They

were both off duty, which was almost a silly concept

under these conditions, but they had to sleep some-

time. And the voyage was long. And sticking to a

watch schedule did the crew good. Felt right. Felt

ready. One more day to the edge of Argolis, where

they would then be awake for days longer. There,

they would have to punch through the stormy core of

the Argolis Cluster's heart.

ааа The shields were reinforced, but the cluster would

take its toll and there might not be enough deflector

power to defend against the picket ships which came

to fight them. He had held back on the reinforce-

ment. That balance between what they needed now,

what they would need for something they could only

half measure, and what they would need for a fight

they couldn't judge at all--he'd played through all

the equations and done his best, but it came down to

guessing.

ааа Now he carried a duffel of gear down to Dax's

quarters, things that would be necessary for the one-

man raid on the broadcast base. He chimed the

door, and she instantly called for him to enter,

proving that she wasn't asleep.

ааа "Good--you're still up." O'Brien slipped inside

with the duffel.

ааа "Can't sleep," Dax told him as she joined him at

the small desk. "Are you finished?"

а He grimaced. "Oh, bad, bad choice of words."

ааа "Sorry." She smiled at him. "Are you all done

mounting our little surprise for the Jem'Hadar?"

ааа With a shrug, he sighed. "We removed six bulk-

heads and packed sections five, nine, and ten with

torpedo caskets, all fully armed, rigged in rapid-fire

racks. The racks were the hardest part. Wait'11 you

see 'em! We're fairly bristling with torpedoes. It's a

good thing we reduced the crew complement, or

we'd never have gotten all the photons on board. We

had to pull out a whole deck of crew quarters!"

ааа "No sense taking anything more than a skeleton

crew on a mission like this anyway," Dax com-

mented. She seemed tired, but O'Brien knew it was

something else.

ааа "Now I know," he went on, "why it's against

regulations to load this many photons onto a ship.

One hull breach in those sections, and foooom. But

they'll fire like crazy when you punch in the se-

quence. They can't even be aimed, so no sense

trying. It's a punching technique, no more and no

less."

ааа "One ship against many. We need the edge, regula-

tions or not." Dax opened the duffel he'd put on her

desk and looked inside. "Is this the gear for the

raid?"

ааа "Right. Specially adjusted tricorder... phaser

with two power packs... five grenades... survival

kit, hydrator, desalinator, lights... and the fire-

crackers that'll do the job. Ten quantum explosives,

and twelve detonators. That's about all one person

can carry and move fast."

ааа Dax pawed lightly through the gear, nodding in

satisfaction. "It's just right."

ааа "Well, we hope it is," O'Brien said. "That planet

is shielded against sensor penetration by some

Jem'Hadar satellites, probably to keep us from

counting how many Jem'Hadar soldiers are guard-

ing the place on the surface. So, we haven't been able

to learn much about the planet or the base's sur-

rounding area, give or take schematics of the me-

chanical interior of the base itself. The planet, we

can't even tell climate very well. We know there are

rocks and trees, but otherwise we've got no idea

what we're beaming down into." "What's this blue pack?"

а"Compact field jacket. Might get cold at night."

ааа She looked at him. "You anticipating a camp-

out?"

ааа "Have to," he told her. "Can't assume the Defiant

will be able to double back. We don't know how

many picket ships we'll be forced to face down.

Might have to stay on the planet for days or weeks.

Who knows? Years, maybe, if the war lasts that

long."

ааа "Or a lifetime if the Dominion wins," she con-

firmed and picked up the airtight pack which had

the thermal jacket inside. "I take a long torso. This

isn't my size."

а"Why should it be? I'm the one it's got to fit."

аThat was it. They locked glares.

а"What do you mean, 'you'?" she challenged.

ааа He shrugged and put a possessive hand on the

duffel. "Well, who else could possibly go? Sure, most

of our engineers could handle the mission if it were a

textbook case, but we can't count on that. There's

going to be a lot of improvising. If there's a problem,

it'll take a senior engineer with some jury-rigging

experience. There's nobody better on board than

little me."

ааа Dax's black eyes flashed. "Oh, yes, there is.

There's little me."

ааа Though he wasn't entirely surprised, O'Brien de-

liberately stepped back, cocked his hip, tipped his

head, and let his jaw drop as if in shock. "You! Now,

look--"

ааа Instantly Dax interrupted, "You're not going to

argue with your captain, are you, Miles?"

ааа His saucy Irish temper flared. Usually he kept it

leashed up, but this was time for a bite.

ааа "Oh, damned right I am! You can't do everything

yourself. You're not just Captain Sisko's majordomo

anymore, Jadzia. You're not a unit leader. You're a

ship's commander on a wide-ranging mission.

You're in charge of more than the ground assault,

y'know."

ааа "Miles, I'm not sending anybody down into a pit

like that on a suicide mission--no, we both know it

is. There's no sense coloring the truth, at least not

between us."

ааа Her openness moved him so much that his in-

nards clutched. She was trusting him with thoughts

she usually kept to herself or reserved for Captain

Sisko. He doubted she had ever voiced such reserva-

tions even to Worf, whom she would, hopefully,

soon marry. And he knew what she meantmdying

in space together was one thing, but to just drop a

shipmate on a planet, behind enemy lines, where

there's almost no chance of a successful pickup...

pretty distasteful.

ааа She was the captain. What could he do if she

insisted on going herself?. Orders were still orders,

even behind the lines and even going into a mission

they might never get out of. In fact orders were more

orders than ever, now. He couldn't just flex a muscle

and insist. He had to make a good case.

аFortunately, he thought he had one.

ааа Seeing a reflection of himself and her in the little

vanity mirror beside the bunk, he straightened his

posture a little and wished he'd had time for a

haircut. Right now his buff curls looked a bit too

boyish. And Jadzia Dax was her flawless, postured

self, elegant and queenly in her simple shipboard

jumpsuit. Oh, well, he couldn't out-regal her. He'd

have to do something else.

ааа "What do you think Captain Sisko felt like, send-

ing us out on this mission without him?"

ааа Apparently surprised by the abrupt change of

subject, Dax seemed troubled. "As if his heart had

been cut out, I imagine."

ааа "I imagine that too," O'Brien said, "but he did it.

He wanted to come, you can bet, but when he was

needed to do bigger things, he stayed to do them."

ааа Suddenly Dax turned away from him. Her shoul-

ders flexed and her long black hair, tied at the nape

of her neck, rolled between her shoulderblades. "All

right, Miles, I know where you're going with that."

ааа She didn't look at him. Somehow that was harder

than speaking to her face-to-face.

ааа "I can't run the ship as well as you can," he said,

"and you're not an engineering specialist. No matter

what kind of image we Starfleeters try to put across,

we're not interchangeable. We can't do each other's

jobs as well as we pretend. You're in command of

this mission--the whole mission, not just one part

of it. You've got a hard job and I'm glad it's not

mine. You've got to choose which people are best to

do which tasks. The broadcast base... that's mine

and you know it."

ааа She still didn't turn to face him. He did empathize

with her. In fact he was bothered--her composure

didn't crack very often. Usually Dax didn't need

anybody's empathy. She always had her ducks in a

row, always floated behind somebody else who had

bigger problems, providing support and answers and

steadiness. But now she was in command. The

problems had been shifted onto her narrow shoul-

ders and for the first time since O'Brien could

remember, she seemed unsure of herself and deeply

troubled.

аThe sight shook him to his bones.

ааа Jadzia Dax wasn't what she appeared to be on any

level. She appeared to be a young woman, subdued

and intelligent, accepting of whatever came along.

But that was a false image. Really, she was a blend of

alien manners of survival, a merging of two life-

forms--a young woman and a very old alien. In

body, she was young. In mind, she had lived hun-

dreds of years, loved and lost, seen and learned. It

was hard most of the time to remember she wasn't

human, but she wasn't. To Dax, a human being lived

such a short life and was snuffed out so early... she

had lived hundreds of years among creatures who

only lived a few decades. What must they seem like

to her? O'Brien knew that, for Dax, sending him to

that planet was almost like sending a child to die.

аBut O'Brien, too, was defending his wife and

children. He knew the Federation was losing. If the

Dominion won, humanity would bear the brunt of

reprisal as the race that had led the charge. They'd

be lucky if the Dominion let them live at all, never

mind live well. Chattel slaves had a better idea of the

future than he did for his family right now.

ааа "If I get in trouble," he began again, tentatively,

"who's best to get me out of there?"

а Several seconds went by. She still didn't turn.

а "I am..."

"If I fail, who's best to launch a second attempt?"

As ridiculous as they both knew that was--there

were no second chances in this kind of game--but

there was no harm in hope.

а She didn't answer. They both knew.

ааа "We're not that sure of what's inside that base,

technically speaking."

ааа O'Brien paused. This was all wrong. They were

pretending. He had to do better.

ааа "I'm the best to go down there and deal with it,

and you're the best to dodge about and pretend to

target those dishes. Look, I know what I'm getting

into. You needn't... you don't have to make any

promises you can't keep. Once you drop me, just

distract those ships until I can send the destruct

signal. You'll know I've done it when the dishes in

the array start blowing up. If I don't make it, they

just won't blow. Either way, wait as long as you

think is right, then use the torpedoes to plow your

way out of Argolis." He lowered his voice now, and

added, "I understand if you don't come back for me.

It's a habitable planet... I'll find a way to live."

ааа Live, he knew, contingent upon the big "if' of

whether or not he could possibly survive the assault

on the broadcast base at all. He knew also, and

so did she, that even if he succeeded, the enraged

Jem'Hadar certainly would find him. He knew. They both knew.

ааа "The array has to come down, Dax," he finished.

"I've done all I can here. Your job's just starting. So

let's each do what we're best at. Go on, now... be a

captain. Give the right order."

Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror,

victory however long and hard the road may

be; for without victory there is no survival.

Lord Winston Churchill

0

CHAPTER

ааааааа 6

"THAT'S A suicide maneuver!"

а "Only if we get killed."

а "Ben!"

а"Mind your helm, Charlie. I'm sorry."

ааа Well, that was a lousy answer. Captain Charlie

Reynolds easily stayed on his feet despite the pitch-

ing and yawing of Centaur, which made Ben Sisko

tip and grab for balance against the helm where the

other captain--now the commodore of this assault

team--was standing. Centaur was smaller than Defi-

ant and the maneuvers were like suction in a wind

tunnel as the snarling little ship wheeled tightly

before five Jem'Hadar ships in attack formation.

Now Sisko had asked Reynolds to turn about--a

sanity-straining maneuver while being pursued--

and roll back into that formation and strafe those

ships and make them follow off in another direction.

Why?

ааа "Rotarran, veer toward the barge," Sisko called

clearly over the bridge noises, "Traynor, break to-

ward the cluster and open fire... K'lashm ~z, follow

them halfway and break right."

ааа Reynolds watched the action as it was being

directed, and knew he was right. This was a good

way to get killed while gaining nothing at all. A

patchwork task force of five Starfleet and Klingon

ships, racing in about as subtle as bulls, staging this

assault but not really concentrating on the target. So

what were they doing?

ааа "Full burn on all weapons," Sisko went on, as his

orders were instantly funneled from Centaur to the

other task force ships. "Don't save anything...

Lyric, angle ten degrees! Good... good... broad

formation, everyone, stay away from each other...

good..."

ааа Reynolds listened to what Sisko was saying with

great curiosity and annoyance as he also fed orders

to his own crew, more specific than Sisko's, so the

Centaur could make its moves at its own most

efficient manner. There were subtle differences be-

tween styles of ship, different methods of getting

each individual vessel to do its personal best.

ааа As Sisko gave orders to the task force ships and

Charlie Reynolds gave order after order to his own

crew, Reynolds kept glancing and leering and an-

gling at Sisko until he finally started to get reactions

out of his old acquaintance. A twinge--was it

guilt?--crimped Sisko's eyes as Reynolds divided

his attention between Sisko and the action on the

screen. Sisko had asked a lot of the Centaur's crew

today. A lot of silence, a lot of vagueness, a lot of

loaded glares that explained nothing. Go over the

border into the Argolis area, stage a losing attack on

an orbiting barge with Federation configuration,

probably get killed here, but don't ask any questions

and don't try to destroy the barge or its store of

ketracel? Who could figure that?

ааа Even in times of war, such quirkish behavior was

a lump to swallow. When men and women went out

to fight and die, they needed an idea of what they

were fighting and dying for. But the maneuvers Sisko

had ordered for Centaur and for Rotarran--

out there somewhere, firing on the barge--were

silly actions geared to confuse the linear-minded

Jem'Hadar and stall the duration of this battle as

long as possible.

ааа "You're just mad at me because I didn't recognize

you last time I saw you," Reynolds complained as

they dodged between two crossing enemy fighters.

ааа Sisko glanced at him. "My fault. I wasn't wearing

my usual ship."

ааа By now, after half an hour of fighting, damage,

and casualties, Charlie knew the assault on the barge

was half-assed and staged. He knew the other ships'

attacks and Centaur's ridiculous maneuvers were

going to get them nowhere when it came to captur-

ing that barge. And it was aggravating--Reynolds

and his entire crew would happily do something

ridiculous if only they had some clue why they were

doing it.

ааа "Keep shields moving on all vessels," Sisko or-

dered to the communications network. "Flash

through any anticipated movements to all our ships.

Tell Martok to change superior assault position with

the Traynor, then to Lyric after three minutes. Keep

the Jem'Hadar from knowing which ship is in

charge. I don't want them focusing attention."

ааа "Helm, use your lateral stabilizers more," Reyn-

olds said, pretty much speaking at the same time.

"Come on, Randy, you know better than that!"

а "Sorry, Charlie."

ааа "Weapons on pinpoint. Aryl, shut down any non-

critical systems. Life support on nominal--save

whatever we've got. Double shields now, Fitz. We're

outmatched four to one. Eyes open. Fire, fire, fire,

keep it up, fire as you bear, don't stop--"

ааа "We're burning ourselves out in two rounds,"

Roger Buick snarled, "and it's a twelve-round

match."

ааа Gerrie twisted around from her science panel, still

keeping her hands on the board. "They've got anoth-

er half-dozen ships coming in. At least five, sir."

а "From which direction?" Sisko asked.

а "Several different directions, sir."

"Pick the tightest cluster and head right at them,

full shields--Charlie, you do it."

ааа At the last second, Sisko had remembered he

wasn't the captain here, and while Reynolds appreci-

ated that, he still didn't understand such a goofy

series of actions. Head at them? Why?

ааа "Track their residual trails," Sisko added, glanc-

ing at Gerrie Ruddy. "See where they came from."

ааа Irritated now and feeling as if his uniform were

shrinking, Reynolds snapped around to him and

demanded, "Why in blazes is that important?"

ааа Drenched with perspiration that matted his wispy

blond hair, Reynolds finally felt his teeth grate one

too many times. He shoved his way through his

sweating crew and the cloud of smoke puffing from

damaged boards to come to Sisko's side. Ignoring

the twisting action on the screen and the ram of

incoming shots, he let his crew do the hard stuff, and

fixed his eyes on Sisko.

ааа "Okay, flag on the play." He faced Sisko, gathered

the shreds of shipboard diplomacy and kept his

voice between them. "Assuming Ben Sisko isn't

insane, which I doubt, assuming he's not stupid,

which I know, then he's got to have a reason for all

this silliness. It's pretty clear now we're not here to

destroy or even capture that barge."

ааа "But the Jem'Hadar only analyze behavior, not

motivations," Sisko told him, "and that means they

can be fooled by silly actions."

ааа "Yeah, but there's a shipload of people right here

who are risking their lives to be silly and right now

it's not going over too great. I know how my people

work best--"

ааа "Too many questions, Charlie," Ben Sisko chided

as he moved his big shoulders in empathic echo of

the dodging ships out there and kept one grip on the

edge of the helm.

ааа "Too bad," Reynolds persisted. He took a step

closer and folded his arms, flagrantly showing off

that he didn't need to hold on to anything to keep his

feet under him. "If you won't talk to me, then I'll

talk to myself. What could possibly be bigger than

destroying most of the ketracel white in this quad-

rant? Well, it couM be capturing the ketracel white,

but we're not trying to do that very well, are we? I

know, I know... questions. Okay, I'll just talk and

when I'm wrong you tell me. The only thing bigger

than the white is that damned wormhole which I

wish to hell had never opened up its fat mouth in the

first place. The only thing keeping us from taking

back DS9 is the fact that we move our fleet and

nobody can move a whole fleet without everybody

else knowing all about it. Am I getting warm?"

Sisko pressed his lips. "You're giving me a tan."

"We're gonna take on more and more Jem'Hadar

ships and still win?" Reynolds plowed on. "Even if

all five of our ships strafe that barge, it won't be

enough. These aren't assault maneuvers. These are

stalling maneuvers. You're buying time. Are we

throwing ourselves on a grenade here?"

ааа Sacrificing themselves--that was a noble but dis-

tasteful concept and he just wanted to know. Notic-

ing Sisko's unease, Reynolds refused to back off,

though he whittled the untimely conversation down

to its most simple denominator.

ааа "Why don't you just tell me what you want?" he

asked.

ааа Stalling on another plane, Sisko heaved a few

breaths of frustration, but Reynolds tightened his

folded arms and made clear he wasn't moving till he

got an answer. Mentally he vibrated the image of a

rotting skeleton still standing here ten thousand

years from now, waiting for a grunt from a mummi-

fied stationmaster.

ааааа "All right," the commodore ultimately relented.

"I want... you're going to hate this." "I hate it already. Give."

ааа "I want the ID numbers off all the enemy ships

that show up here."

ааа "ID numbers," Reynolds repeated, tasting the

words. Yes, a nutty answer, but he was suddenly

curious now. "For reference or comparison?"

ааа "Both." Sisko reached into his boot and pulled

out a little chip, about so big and not very thick, and

handed it to him. "There's the list. Line up the

numbers, Charlie."

аTurning the chip in his fingers, Reynolds narrowed

his eyes. "Mmm... both... uh-huh... hmmm.

Okay. All hands, listen up]"

ааа As Sisko smiled at him in spite of the crashing, the

banging, the whining, and billows of sparking

smoke, Reynolds turned to his overworked crew and

waved the smoke away from his eyes.

ааа "Apparently," he began, with a sly glance back at

Sisko, "our job is to get the ID information off any

Jem'Hadar ship that comes into this area, got it? Use

weapons to defend and divert. Don't pump energy

into destruction unless you've got a shot nobody in

his right mind could refuse. Since none of you losers

are in your right minds, none of this should be--

Randy, veer right]"

ааа The Centaur's worn deck carpet dropped from

beneath their feet as the ship pressed hard to star-

board and elevatored upward a few degrees to clear a

vicious-looking Jem'Hadar ship that launched from

behind a lingering detonation cloud and now took a

good shot at them.

ааа The shot missed, but the residual energy wave

kicked Centaur in the left warp nacelle. Reynolds

noticed that Sisko grasped the helm and almost went

down on one knee, but Reynolds himself managed

to keep both feet under him. He was more familiar

with the tugs and pulls of this vessel, and at the

moment proud of that.

ааа But that one had been an almost fatal mistake--at

the helm Randy Lang had been looking at Reynolds

instead of the screen. Only for an instant, but that

one mistake had almost gotten them killed.

ааа Randy's face was flushed with shock of that lesson

and now his eyes were fixed on the screen. "Where'd

that bastard come from?" he gasped.

ааа "Two more new ones coming in from someplace!"

Roger Buick called over the scream of compensators

in the engineering trunks. He was juggling both

navigation and weapons--then again, who needed

to navigate this kind of nonsense?

ааа "Evasive," Reynolds ordered, "but keep tight.

Roger, get those numbers! Gerrie, feed this into the

computer!" He tossed the little nugget with the list

of ship identification up to the science deck, where

his science officer grabbed it.

ааа "You've gotta be kidding," Science Officer Geral-

dine Ruddy grumbled, but she shoved the pill into

an all-purpose fitting and worked her sensors, scan-

ning and focusing and pinpointing like crazy.

ааа "Buick," Sisko interrupted, "if you target their

engine exhaust ports, instead of their drive systems,

and fuse them shut, they'll have to fall back for a few

minutes. All we have to do is disable them. Don't

waste time trying to go for the kill."

ааа "Understood, sir," Buick responded tightly,

though he actually glanced at Sisko as if to remind

himself he was taking orders from both his captain

and his commodore.

аFor a brief instant Reynolds let himself be grateful

to Sisko for bothering to learn the names of the

Centaur's bridge crew.

ааа More rightly, his words to Buick had been a

suggestion, not an order, that could be counter-

manded by Reynolds if the captain saw some flaw

the brilliant commodore hadn't thought of.

ааа "What's the Rotarran's position?" Sisko asked,

possibly a means of reminding both this crew and

himself that he wasn't trying to overshadow their

own captain and that he knew his job here. Reynolds

was grateful again, though not inclined to thank

Sisko just yet for a darned thing.

ааа "They're on the underside of the barge, sir,"

Ensign Aryl reported. "Strafing aft, with three

Jem'Hadar on them!"

ааа "Maintain surveillance. If they get into trouble,

we'll have to veer back and help."

ааа "We're all in trouble," Reynolds muttered. "Two

ships against all these--"

ааа "Try to keep track of which ones were here when

we arrived and which are just showing up," Sisko

said. "Go after the IDs on the new ships and

compare them to the IDs on the list I gave you."

аааа Reynolds tried to control his expression, but a

аsneer popped out anyway; IDs off Jem'Hadar ships

аrushing by at high impulse, shooting the whole time.

аYeah. As if it were that easy to read the encoded

аJem'Hadar markings.

аааа "I'11 get the numbers for you," he muttered,

аpressing forward with both hands on Roger Buick's

thick shoulders. "After this is over, you're gonna tell

me all about it."

ааа Ben Sisko narrowed his black eyes and in the

midst of rocking and rolling, stirred up a snakelike

smile.

ааа "That's a deal, Charlie," he said. "That's the best

deal I've ever made."

0

CHAPTER

ааааааа 7

RouoH RIDE. Damned rough ride through that clus-

ter. The ship had almost melted in the heavy radia-

tion and storms, but the double shielding brought

them through. If any were left to get back again...

that remained to be seen.

ааа For now, and possibly for always, it was no longer

Miles O'Brien's problem. He had drilled and re-

drilled the engineers on the Deftant to deal with any

problems he could wildly imagine to keep the ship

from peeling apart, but he couldn't possibly antici-

pate their actions after facing down a bunch of

Jem'Hadar ships and whatever damage they might

also have to deal with. He stopped short of calculat-

ing the ship's chances of ever seeing Federation space

again. That was too much for a man's soul to hold.

ааа A strange fatalism overtook him as he felt himself

rematerialize and knew he was on the planet where

the broadcast station was nestled. In fact, as his eyes

cleared, he saw that he was inside a vestibule of

some sort, a constructed tunnel.

ааа "Good shooting, Dax," he muttered. Best aim

with transporters he'd seen in a year, and they'd

dropped him off without even reducing speed. He

was warmed by Dax's insistence to work the trans-

porter herself, even in the midst of onrushing

Jem'Hadar picket ships.

ааа They'd counted six ships racing in from the outly-

ing regions of the Argolis system. So that fight was

on. And he was down here.

ааа And after days of silent running, minutes sud-

denly counted. He had to send the destruct signal to

those dishes, so they would blow themselves up and

Dax would see it. Then he had to take out this whole

facility with his little concussion-incendiaries.

а "Or die trying."

ааа Tricorder clicked in his hands, scanning the

immediate area. Four... seven... at least ten

Jem'Hadar readings close by. But he didn't see

any of them.

ааа So far, so good--no intruder alert alarms going

off. Nothing was reading his presence, at least not

yet. That gave him a few seconds.

ааа Slipping his pack off his shoulder, he held it in

front of him at the ready, kept his hand on his phaser

without taking the weapon off his belt yet, because

he would need his hands, and stood up straight.

Here in the shadows, if he didn't crouch, he might

look like just another Jem'Hadar to someone look-

ing this way. Trying to appear confident and in place

to any peripheral glances, he strode into the broad-

cast complex.

ааа The base comprised three buildings, one main and

two auxiliary. He was at what they guessed was the

back door of the main building. Ahead of him was a

series of cubiclelike openings that actually were

corridors. The walls of each corridor were encrusted

with technology--panels, monitors, access links,

and everything necessary to run the hundred sensor

dishes in the systemwide array.

ааа With his skin crawling, O'Brien strode into the

dim complex, doing his best Jem'Hadar clunky

stagger. Keeping to the shadows, he held the short

duffel up against his chest to hide the tricorder.

а ааEmissions... long-range emissions... there! Per-

fect... he knew just what to look for... now

he just had to track the signals... Luckily most

of the Jem'Hadar technology wasn't a mystery. The

Vorta were secretive, but not very technical. The

Jem'Hadar they ordered around were technical, but

not very imaginative. They didn't understand about

tricks and secrets, decoys and false leads. They knew

what worked and why, and they just made things

work.

а That left tiny openings for O'Brien and others

who were learning that cleverness and trickery were

things the Jem'Hadar didn't understand.

ааа A hard chill ran up his spine as a movement to his

left attracted his attention. Deep in the dim corri-

dor, three Jem'Hadar soldiers crossed his path.

ааа Not moving too fast, he turned sharply and

stepped into one of the cubicle openings that led to

the computer and mechanical panels running the

complex. If those soldiers came this way, they would

be able to see right in here, and this place had a

worklight shining in it. There was no place to hidew

and the corridor was a dead end.

ааа Frustration set in. The tricorder provided him

with a neat map to the array signal source. Three

cubicles down to his right, then a hundred meters

northeast. That would lead into the center of this

building, the way it was situated in the landscape.

ааа Cold in here... the hastily poured concrete floor

was uneven and grainy and sucked the heat out of

his body right through the soles of his boots and into

the ground. In spite of that he was sweating and his

black-on-black infiltration suit was clammy against

his arms and chest. Why hadn't he just brought a

Jem'Hadar Halloween mask? He could've walked

around here all day.

аааа Funny what they hadn't thought of. Wouldn't have

been so harda Footsteps!

аHe pressed his back against the nearest wall.

Would they just walk by? Or would they look in

here? No shadow, no desk, nothing to hide behind.

O'Brien flattened himself as much as possible, held

the duffel bag behind his thigh, and leveled his

phaser at the cubicle opening.

ааа The mutter of Jem'Hadar voices gnawed at him.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't

quite make out the words--more shuffling foot-

steps... were they armed?а Probably.

ааа He was ready... he had a specially programmed

computer cartridge that would send the destruct

signal to the dishes. It was all ready, right here in his

duffel's side pocket. All he had to do was get to the

broadcast point and plug it in, then ignite the signal.

The whole thing would only take seven to ten

seconds.

а If he could just get there.

ааа The Jem'Hadar shuffling was right here now, just

opposite the entry to this cubicle. Were they passing

by? Please, pass by, pass by...

аааа His phaser was set to kill. No sense taking

аchances. If only he could've set it on wide-angle--

аbut that would be too risky in here. Too much

аmechanics that could shatter and blow back on

аO'Brien himself. There were places where a phaser

аcould be wide-ranged and places where it shouldn't

аbe.

а They were here--he could hear them muttering,

much closer now--only steps away. If only it weren't

so bright here!

ааа The footsteps began to fade. Were they leaving?

Going outside, maybe? That would be so--

ааа Then a face appeared beside him, a horny face like

an open jawbone. One of the Jem'Hadar!

ааа The soldier strode into the cubicle and reached for

a panel, then caught O'Brien in the corner of his eye

and swung around, gaping at the intrusion. The

soldier opened his mouth to call the others, but

O'Brien clutched the phaser.

ааа Unfortunately, the phaser did the soldier's

screaming for him. The soldier was blasted back-

ward to crash his heavy body into the panel behind

him, smashing several lighted readouts. By the time

the sparks rose, that soldier was dead and sizzling

against the lower trunk.

ааа O'Brien didn't wait for the others. He ducked

out of the cubicle with the phaser announcing him

the whole way. Two... three down! Three dead

Jem'Hadar and no more in sight right now. Had they

alerted anybody when his phaser first went off?.

ааа The hall was cleared now, but he didn't fool

himself into thinking that was the end of it. Clutch-

ing his duffel under one arm and holding the phaser

out before him, he broke into a full-out run in the

direction the tricorder had indicated.

ааа The place where the signal computer was

housed--would it be defensible? Would he have

seven to ten seconds before they came in and killed

him? Could he hold them off that long?

ааа That would mean he only got half the job done.

Destroying the dishes would give the Federation a

little time, but wouldn't cripple the Dominion for

long. This base had to come downmand he was

going to die in here before he could make that

happen. If only he could contact Dax, tell her to

blast the complex from space after the dishes blew

up... he should've told her to do that anyway.

ааа Irritated that they hadn't just accepted that this

was a suicide mission and dealt with it as such, he

plowed his way past crates of equipment and locked

cabinets, blasting the cabinets and crates into shards

as he ran past them. The crates blew to smithereens,

and the padlocked cabinets cracked open like eggs,

spilling precious ketracel white in a hundred little

tubes that crashed to the ground and left a spreading

slick of milky liquid behind him.

ааа A loud bell-ringing alarm went off all around him,

almost driving him down with sheer loudness. What

had triggered it? Those soldiers must've hit a switch

or an alert before he came out and blew them away.

Couldn't exactly blame them. It was part of the

game.

ааа He ran like a fool straight down the middle of the

corridor, with such plowboy willfulness that he ran

right past the cubicle opening to the corridor with

the broadcast signal housing. Twenty paces down, he

skidded around, almost slipping in the slick of

ketracel white, then skidded his way back to the

right opening--

ааа And now he could see at least a dozen troops of

Jem'Hadar surging into the dimness from the wedge

of light from the main tunnel!

ааа They opened fire as soon as they saw him, but he

ducked and zigzagged out of their sights. Their

distruptor fire tore apart the walls around him and

clawed at the floor beneath his running feet, but

finally he zagged hard to his left and plunged into

the cubicle. Was it the right one this time? If not, it

was all over. There was no going back.

ааа The wall just ahead of him opened up with

disruptor fire, cracking as if an earthquake had

gouged it, and half the stony wall caved in on him.

He tried to jump over it, but tripped and went down

hard on the point of his left knee. Grimacing in pain,

he forced himself to continue without missing a step.

ааа Slinging the duffel's strap over his shoulder, still

firing back the way he'd come with one hand, he

used the other hand to dig into the side pocket and

pull out the computer cartridge that meant every-

thing. Well, half of everything.

ааа He stopped shooting and concentrated on ducking

the shots from the Jem'Hadar who were chasing

him. He was faster, a pretty good sprinter in his day,

and put half the complex behind him while the

Jem'Hadar fell behind. Every pace drove a stab of

pain from his knee up to his pelvis. If he hadn't

fallen he might've been able to run even faster, but

there was no getting that back. Seconds, he needed

seconds...

аа аThere it was! He recognized the alien computer

broadcast-signal access as if he'd designed it him-

self! It was so obvious in its purpose it might as well

have been marked "HERE!"

ааа Ducking behind a transverse wall, he turned and

opened fire in a blanketing manner that forced the

pursuing Jem'Hadar to stop chasing him and take

cover. Streaks of disruptor energy bit into the thing

he was hiding behind and took off the top half of it.

Another shot like that, and he would be completely

exposed.

ааа He fired wildly a few more times, then swung

to the computer terminal and searched for the

card insert. There had to be something heretothe

Jem'Hadar had built all their equipment to be

compatible with whatever they might find in the

Alpha Quadrant. That was their idea of being ready

to take over whatever they found.

ааа Today, their prudence was in O'Brien's favor. The

access was in an abnormal place, but he did find it

and the cartridge fit just right. The computer came

to life and started asking for instructions. He took

the time for two more blanketing shots, then tapped

in an override order. He gave it the answer--You've

fallen into enemy hands. Detonate all dishes.

ааа The computer distilled his order, took it as an

enemy takeover of the base, and started sending

destruct signals to the dishes far away in space.

ааа "I hope," he muttered. "I hope that's what you're

doing. No second chances... come on, give me

confirmation..."

ааа But none came. He had no way to know if the

signal had actually been sent. It had been processed,

but had it been segmented and broadcast to the

dishes? Were they blowing up now? Was Dax seeing

them sparkle in deep space as she fought off the

Jem'Hadar pickets?

ааа Or was there nothing? Was space still dark and

hopeless? Did she think he was already dead? That

he'd failed?

ааа Out of time, he swung around on his raging knee

and kept low, hiding behind what was left of the

jagged wall. There was dust in his eyes and mouth as

he tried to see down the dim aisle. There they were!

A dozen Jem'Hadar peeking out at him, their dis-

ruptors raised toward him.

ааа Well, at least he could take a few of them down

with him.

ааа No, there was more he could do! He could set a

couple of those incendiary charges and at least blow

up part of this computer rack. If he couldn't take out

the whole building, at least he could mess it up a

little!

ааа Clutching for the duffel bag, he dragged it to his

side and tried to dig through it, but his fingers were

numb. Why weren't his fingers moving?

ааа A shuffle down the aisle snapped his attention

back to the Jem'Hadar. They were coming!

ааа Quickly O'Brien peeked out to get aim, trained his

phaser on the clutch of white-faced soldiers lumber-

ing toward him, and squeezed the trigger.

а Nothing happened.

аааа He spat an oath and twisted the readjustment on

the phaser. Still nothing! His phaser had shut down!

а And they were coming!

ааа The power pack still read charged--what was

wrong with it?

ааа He hooked the duffel bag on his numb arm

and stumbled over the pile of rubble, heading north-

east again, but he didn't make it ten steps before

the low ceiling over his head blew to spatters and

drove him down to the scratchy concrete floor. The

concrete ripped his clothing and chewed at his skin.

His leg was throbbing and weak now, his right arm

still numb. Behind him he heard the shift-shift of

Jem'Hadar boots scratching through the rubble.

ааа He was done for. Half a job, and he was finished.

The muscles in his back cramped in anticipation of

disruptor fire. What would it feel like to die that

way?

аBOOM. t

аааа A deafening roar shocked him to a stupor and he

covered his head with his arms. Click--BOOM. t

аWhat the hell was that?

а"Get up! On your feet!"

аClickwBOOM. t

аGathering his splattered wits, O'Brien twisted and

looked up into a cloud of dust and smoke. There,

standing above him, looking back the way he'd

come, was a man. Nobody special, just a man,

except that from this angle the newcomer seemed

like a redwood tree at dawn, rising out of the rocks

and rubble to tower over the insect at its base.

а "Get up!"

а BOOM!

ааа Some kind of concussion rifle stretched from the

man's grip and spat black fire at the scattering

Jem'Hadar.

ааа O'Brien twisted over on his back and looked at the

enemy troops. The nearest Jem'Hadar's head was

cracked in two and opened up like a melon hit with a

hammer. Exposed brains were blown free and splat-

tered the wall with blue matter and white liquid. The

body lay less than a meter away from him. That was

close.

ааа Down the aisle were more slaughtered Jem'Hadar,

each with a hole in him the size of a worklight. Guts

and white spilled down the fronts of their smashed

torsos. And of those left from the original dozen

pursuers, disruptors flew out of their hands and their

ranks opened before O'Brien and the intruder like

petals flying off an old rose in high wind. In puddles

of gore the Jem'Hadar hit the walls, leaving streaks

of guts and shattered bone as they slid to the cold

floor.

ааа The man called over the noise of his own weapon.

"Can you shoot?"

ааааа O'Brien shook himself and forced his voice out,

"My phaser's jammed or--or seized!"а "Your what is what?"

ааа Desperately he plucked at the inert weapon's

setting panel. "This place has some kind of energy

damping field! I can't shoot!"

"That's all right," the intruder said. "I can."

And he started walking forward, down the aisle

O'Brien had just marathoned, dealing death faster

than the Jem'Hadar could even take aim. O'Brien

scratched to his feet, slung the duffel's strap back

over his shoulder, and stumbled after him.

ааа Suddenly the man shoved his heavy weapon into

O'Brien's hand, along with some kind of metal clip,

and shouted, "Reload this!"

ааа While O'Brien fumbled with the rifle-type weap-

on, the man yanked a handheld weapon out of his

vest and kept shooting, hardly missing a second.

аBAM./ BAM!

ааа That hand weapon had a different tenor of report

but did a terrible thing to the faces of the oncoming

Jem'Hadar.

ааа "Come on!" the man called back to O'Brien.

"Follow me!"

0

CHAPTER

аааа ааа8

"MORE ^t4OLE! Are the torpedo racks on line?"

ааааа "Ready to fire when you are. If just one of those

jams on the slide-out, they'll chain-ignite."а "I know. Nog, fire phasers!"

ааа "Rigging a ship with something this dangerous is a

court-martial offense, you know, Captain."

ааа "Let's hope we're all alive to be court-martialed,

Julian. Lieutenant Haj, continue evasive. Don't let

them work our stern. Starboard, faster! Julian, take

over the sensors. Keep focused on those dishes. Let

me know as soon as you see anything."

ааа Jadzia Dax was out of the command chair, work-

ing the Ops and engineering stations herself. Every-

body on board was doing two jobs, except that she

was also the commanding officer and that meant she

was doing a lot more than two jobs.

ааа They were in a hot chase with five Jem'Hadar

vessels on their tail. Since dropping off O'Brien they

had raced around the system in a flurry of uncoordi-

nated hits, taking potshots at various sensor dishes

and even managing to take out a handful of them,

but such maneuvers would never make a dent in the

hundred units out there. All they had to do was

make the Jem'Hadar believe they were after the

dishes. O'Brien only needed a few minutes... if he

were still alive.

ааа "Fire!" Dax called again when the fourth enemy

ship tried to take their beam. "Don't let them get in

front of us!"

а"I'm trying," Nog ground out.

ааа "Nog, take over the Ops! I'll take tactical and

weapons."

а"Good!"

ааа They switched positions, and that cut out the

rigmarole of Dax having to handle two consoles and

also watch the enemy ships and also give specific

firing orders. Now she could fire at will and cut

seconds off the process of keeping alive. "Dax!"

ааа Bashir was calling, but Dax didn't pay attention to

him. There were two ships in range... if she could

only hit their weapons magazines--

ааа "Dax!" Bashir shouted louder. "Sensors indicate

wide-range full-spectrum meltdown in the dish

units! Miles did it! He did it! The dishes are blowing

up all over the system?

ааа Through the plasma smoke, she cast him a glow-

ing smile. "Did we ever have a doubt?"

ааа Sheeted in sweat, Bashir was too frightened to

return the smile. "Well, actually, yes!"

ааа She turned back to her weapons, wishing she

could take the time to look out into space, see the

sparkle of detonations from here to eternity. "Haj,

lay in a course for the cluster!"

ааа She continued firing, and though Defiant sus-

tained ghastly damage in most sections, she man-

aged to detonate any critical incomings and thus

protect the sections where the torpedoes were tightly

packed; and at the same time she took out three

more Jem'Hadar ships. Now they were being pur-

sued by two ships.

ааа "Good shooting!" Bashir gagged, then coughed on

the streaming gases erupting from the shattered

bridge consoles. "A few more minutes and we won't

even be able to breathe in here. Dax? Did you hear

me?"

ааа "I heard you. Do what you can about it. Get us

masks if you have to."

ааа "Understood! Did you say we're heading for the

cluster?" Bashir left his post and stumbled across the

shattered deck to her side. "We're not leaving

him... we're not, are we?"

ааа Her hands cold, she fired the stern phasers again

and again. "Those are our orders."

"You're not serious..." Even his whisper was

like a gong in her ear. "Did he know that?"

ааа "I was supposed to be the one to go," she told him.

"I was the only one who knew. I was under com-

mand restriction. It's too dangerous to go back for

one person. We owe the Federation the opportunity

to use this ship again. That means leaving right

now."

ааа "Dax," he protested, but he apparently couldn't

think of any way to make one man's life worth more

than an entire battleship in the middle of a war.

ааа Dax gave him a sorry glance. "We're supposed to

use those photon torpedoes to plow our way back

into the cluster and clear out of here."

ааа He gripped her tactical console. "Is it worth one

pass? An emergency beam-out?"

ааа "We can't slow down enough to pick up just one

person. We won't be able to focus the beam that

well."

ааа "Listen," Bashir gasped, "I can isolate his com-

badge signal and we can do a wide-scan transporter

beam. It's risky and we might pick up a couple of

Jem'Hadar along with him, but at least we can try.

You're not leaving without at least trying to get

Miles back... you wouldn't do that, would you?"

ааа She hit the firing button again, and behind them

another Jem'Hadar ship splintered and spun out of

control. "No, I'm not leaving without at least

trying."

аааа Julian seemed suddenly weak. He pressed his

hands on the edge of her console. "Thank God..."

а "Get back to your post."

а "Thank you--"

"Go on. Haj, evasive subport, ten degrees!"

"Captain!" Ensign Nog peered through the gout of

smoke, before anyone could move at all. "Ten more

Jem'Hadar ships just appeared on our forward

screens! They're blocking our way!"

ааа Bashir swung around, obviously frightened that

Dax would change her mind. Ten ships, blocking the

way between them and O'Brien--

ааа Just then a hard hit from aft blew half the helm

console away at the deck level. The flash of electrical

impact drove Lieutenant Haj straight backward to

crash to the deck with his legs virtually on fire.

ааа "Julian," Dax called, "take over the conn sta-

tion!"

ааа His complexion dusky with fear, Bashir rushed to

the helm and put his hands on the snapping controls.

Dax was worried--asking him to steer in these

conditions was a risk. He knew the basics, but he

was no combat pilot.

аааа "Just head directly into those oncoming ships,

Julian," she told him in her steadiest voice.

а "Directly into him? No evasive?"

ааа "No evasive." Dax twisted around briefly. "All

right, everyone, this is it! Nog, ready all torpedo

racks!"

а"All racks armed and ready!"

ааа "Wait until they're in range... closer... clos-

er... let's plow our way through! All torpedoes,

rapid-fire!"

ааа Blast after blast blew Jem'Hadar soldiers out of

their way. O'Brien limped behind the lanky and

dangerous stranger.

"Why aren't you shooting?" the man cast back.

"Oh--don't know. Guess I should..."

Fumbling with the weapon, he did a quicky diag-

nostic and figured out where the clip went, clapped it

into place, turned the wide-mouthed barrel forward

toward one of the Jem'Hadar, and pulled the trigger.

а Click--BOOM!

ааа And O'Brien was suddenly flat on his backside in

the rubble.

ааа He stared at the weapon in his aching arms. "Well,

what the hell..."

ааа "Get up, keep moving! Follow me! Keep shooting,

now."

ааа He crawled up at the urging of the other man,

whose voice was unremitting and gave him strength

with its confidence.

ааа The weapon was warm in his hands. What a kick

this monster had!

ааа With a modicum of experience now, he aimed and

fired again. BOOM/

ааа He stayed on his feet this time, but the weapon

bucked up in his arms and hit him in the nose. Well,

he killed a Jem'Hadar. Not the one he'd been aiming

at, but a score was a score.

ааа The other man, though, shattered his way through

the storming troops, pausing every few steps to

stand, brace-legged like some kind of Texas Ranger,

firing again and again in a withering barrage. Togeth-

er they boomed and bammed their way haltingly

forward. O'Brien was astonished at the reaction of

the Jem'Hadar who could still move. They were

running! The enemy soldiers were running away!

Disruptor fire had all but suspended, and the sol-

diers were ducking down the corridors and hobbling

in a Jem'Hadar version of rushing.

ааа A wedge of golden brightness crossed O'Brien's

eyes and made him squint. Daylight!

ааа No, not exactly daylight, but a setting sun angling

straight down the entry tunnel.

ааа "Go out first," the Texas Ranger ordered, and

turned to face the inside of the complex while

O'Brien did as he was told and hustled down the

tunnel.

ааа "Aren't you coming?" he called back over his

shoulder.

а"In a minute."

ааа Behind him as he ran, he heard the relentless BAM

BAM BAM of that iron hand weapon. His own arms

trembled from the adrenaline rush and the lingering

kick of the weapon he was still carrying.

ааа He broke out into the lowering sunlight, hesitated

a moment, then angled toward the nearest stand of

rocks and high ground. There were trees up there,

bushes, places to hide.

ааа But he'd left that man inside--he could still hear

the bang of that handgun, so his friend was alive, at

least. O'Brien was about to double back and shout

for the other man to get out now, when suddenly his

companion jogged out of the tunnel and ran to meet

him, taking O'Brien's arm and pulling him up the

steep escarpment.

ааа "They'll be flocking here any minute," the man

said, "but they don't know how to search very well. I

know where we can hide. This way."

ааа They climbed almost straight up, except that

Texas knew the rocks so well that he led O'Brien up a

craggy natural stairway that twisted and jabbed into

the rock formations, negotiating the almost invisible

path with the skill of someone who had grown up

here. Must be a native of the planet, O'Brien's foggy

mind decided.

ааа His chest thudded and constricted--atmosphere

must be a little thinner here than he was used to.

"High enough," his companion finally allowed.

O'Brien slid to his knees, shuddering. His eyes

fogged over and he gratefully closed them, then sank

sideways and collapsed against a rock. Were the

Jem'Hadar following? It didn't matter. He couldn't

run or climb anymore... his knee throbbed furi-

ously. His right arm was numb. He had to rest, just

for a minute.

аA careful grip took him by one arm and pulled

him to a sitting position. Dazed, he shook his

head--what a mistake--and blinked his eyes.

ааа They were wedged into the rocky terrain under a

shading clutch of trees and it was almost dark.

Enough light remained in the gray sky that he

blinked up into the eyes of a pale-skinned man with

fairly ordinary eyes and shoulder-length hair the

color of the dirt under them.

ааа "You all right?" his new friend asked. He set

O'Brien upright and leaned him against an angled

rock slab.

ааа O'Brien shook his head--he could barely hear the

man's voice. He spat out a crumb of concrete and

garbled, "Bedamned ... phaser... neutralized on

me!"

ааа Texas held up his own weapon, a harsh-looking

ironbound antique rifle with a stumpy body and a

wide-mouthed barrel. It looked as if it canhe out of

some amalgamated version of Earth's 1800s.

O'Brien had seen pictures of old-style guns, but this

one he didn't recognize specifically.

ааа But what a noise it had made! He'd never heard a

concussion weapon go off in real life. On the holo-

deck, sure, but the automatic program muted any

potentially damaging element, and that included

noise. This was... this was loud!

аааа "Nice shootin', Tex," he drawled as he appreci-

ated the heavy gun and its owner. "Tex?"

а"It's your new nickname."

ааа "Oh." The man sat down beside him and plucked

at O'Brien's torn sleeve. "Shoulder's bleeding, did

you know that?"

ааа "Ah... right. Must've been why my fingers went

numb."

а "Who are you?"

ааа "What's that? Oh, sorry--somebody's beating my

eardrum. I'm Chief Engineer Miles O'Brien, Star-

fleet, United Federation of Planets."

ааа "Federation," the man repeated. "Been a long

time since I heard that word." Then he tipped his

head back the way they'd come. "So we're at war?"

а "No doubt. What's your name?"

"I'm Cregger Lot Mowlanish Dot Crixa Tel."

"Ah... mind if I just keep calling you 'Tex'?"

"Fine with me. What should I call you?"

"Miles. That's some weapon. It drove those sol-

diers back ten feet each and left a mighty hole.

Where'd you get it?"

а "We use these to defend our ranches and herds."

ааа O'Brien glanced down into the valley, but saw

neither of those. "You live on this planet?"

ааа "Yes," Tex told him. "Lived just fine, until the

shellheads came."

ааа Sympathizing, O'Brien understood. "That's not

much against phasers."

ааа Tex shook his head, then brushed crumbling dust

out of his hair. "Phasers didn't do you a lot of good

just now."

ааа With a grunt of empathy, O'Brien said, "You're

right about that. Guess you got a shock, didn't you,

when the Dominion dropped by?"

ааа "Overnight," Tex confirmed, "they were here,

blasting away."

ааа O'Brien held up his phaser. "They had some kind

of damping field in there that shut mine down. I

should've expected they'd be ready."

ааа Tex leaned back and held up his own enormous

boomer. "Can't shut this down."

ааа "No, I suppose not! Just a simple chemical reac-

tion... expanding gases propelling a heavy little

weight at incredible speed! No way to short that out,

for sure! The only way to absorb the energy is into

the chest of a Jem'Hadar. And, of course, they

wouldn't know how to fight this! They're just pro-

grammed drones, raised in tubes and made to fight

in space with energy weapons. They've got no sense

of history, no idea of chemistry, and they're com-

pletely unprepared for a hot, fast pellet that blows

their heads offi Why didn't I think of that?"

ааа Realizing he was raving a bit, he paused and

regarded Tex in the fading light.

а"You... have a family here?" he asked.

ааа Tex peered over a rock, making sure they weren't

being tracked. "So tell me about the war."

ааа "They're trying to take over the whole quad-

rant."

а"Let 'era try." He patted his boomer.

а"Why did you get me out?" O'Brien asked.

ааа "Because they were shooting at you. We've been

hiding out, waiting for a chance to fight back, but we

didn't know how to hurt them most. Then I saw

you." He smiled and muttered, "I've been wanting

to do that for months. I should've thought to bring a

couple of my friends. We could've gotten them all."

ааа Exhausted, O'Brien shook his head. "I've teamed

up with John Wayne... how many people are in

this colony?"

ааа Tex shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. We never

thought about it much until they showed up. They

haven't even asked us anything. They just came here

and started building that complex."а "They didn't hurt your people?"

ааа "They shuffled most of the men and children into

camps, then put the women under house arrest and

forced them to do the cooking and cleaning for the

men and kids in the camps."а "Pretty damned effective."

ааа "Some of us were in the mountains when they

came. Me, some of my friends... we hid out all this

time. They kept looking, but they never found us."

ааа "They're bred for life in space. Bit awkward

anyplace else."

ааа "We noticed that. Until today, they didn't know

we'd been missed."

а"Oh... sorry... I blew your cover."

ааа "It's all right," Tex said. "We've been planning to

move against them. We just weren't sure where to

start or what to do. We didn't know how we could

hurt them most. Can you tell me what those build-

ings do?"

ааа "That's a broadcast complex. It maintains a whole

range of scanning posts in space that tell them where

our ships are and what strengths we've got. Except,

i'm hoping I just spat out a signal that blew up the

dishes before it could flash-transmit a... oh, never

mind that part. The second half of my job was to

blow up the base. Unfortunately, I wasn't sneaky

enough. I didn't even get confirmation that the

dishes went to self-destruct mode. Didn't have

time... guess I'll just have to hope they did... if I

blow up that base without the dishes going first, the

whole mission's worthless."

а"You have no way to know?"

а"None at all."

ааа "Then do your best with what's here. What're you

got in that bag?"

ааа "Enough explosives to wipe that complex off your

planet. Problem is, they're chain-reaction incendiar-

ies. They have to be planted inside, and now I'm

outside. I've got to get back in there!"

а"Why? If you blew up the dishes--"

ааа "If I don't demolish the base," O'Brien explained

again patiently, "all they have to do is replace the

dishes. This complex is the important part."

аааа Pressing a dry cloth to the wound in O'Brien's

shoulder, Tex nodded slowly. "Bad wound."

а "I can't feel it much."

а "You will."

а "Oh ... yes."

а "You want to get back inside?"

ааа O'Brien snapped a glare at him. "Can you get me

in? How?"

а "Know what mines are.*"

а "I certainly do!"

ааа "Those shellheads, they don't realize they built

their complex right on top of a network of our

mines. They never even looked."

ааа A shock of relief and hope drenched O'Brien

beneath his sweat-damp suit. "Would you think

it was odd if I shook your hand till it fell off,

man!"

ааа His sudden companion smiled, then spat out a bit

of the wreckage they'd just caused. "How soon do

you want to go, Miles?"

ааа Reinvigorated, O'Brien swung around onto his

knees and peered over the crest and down at the

complex, at flocks of Jem'Hadar who were combing

the grounds. "Right now! While they're all out

patrolling around and looking for us here. My ship's

dodging around space, giving us time. Let's not

waste it."

ааа Grinning broadly, Tex brushed back a lock of his

dust-brown hair. "Your weapons or mine?"

ааа Enheartened such as he never imagined he would

be by today's story, Miles O'Brien clapped his

new friend on the shoulder, ignored the puff of dust

the gesture raised, and shouldered the wonderful,

dependable concussive weapon that had saved his

life.

а"Tex," he said, "let's go turn that place to taffy!"

ааа In one of the most dangerous maneuvers Dax had

ever seen aboard a ship, the Defiant began freely

spewing photon torpedoes, plowing the way before her

with machine-gun deadly force. The ten Jem'Hadar

ships before them were fiddled with explosions in such

rapid succession that they never even had time to

angle away from the head-on collision.

ааа The torpedoes spilled off their racks and into the

firing chambers and self-launched furiously, faster

than anyone could've manually fired them. Dax

squinted with tensions--if even one jammed, the

explosion would be right here, right now, and it

would light up the solar system.

а аа"Approaching the planet," Bashir tensely re-

ported.

а"Just graze past it, Julian, don't reduce speed."

ааа "Are you working the sensors yourself?. Are you

scanning for him?"

ааа "Yes, just steer the ship. Transporter chamber,

this is the captain. Ensign Morrison, are you stand-

ing by?"

а "Yes, Captain, I'm ready when you are."

ааа "This is it, kiddo, you get to prove why you

graduated top of your class in transporter tech-

nology."

а "I'm ready."

а "Stand by..."

ааа Closer, closer, the Defiant blasted right through

the spinning remains and splinters of the Jem'Hadar

ships they'd blown out of the way.

ааа "Nog, take over what's left of the phasers and

maintain fire on the two ships chasing us."

ааа "Captain, they're veering offl. They saw what we

did to their pals!"

ааа "Good riddance. Pilot us two degrees closer,

Julian."

а "Two degrees... aye."

ааа "Come on, Chief, where are you?" Dax leered at

her scanners, searching for the one tiny blip on a

whole planet. Dax hoped she sounded more in

control to the crew than she sounded to herself. But

there was only one chance at this. They'd come

swooping in like an albatross with hawks on its tail,

trying to isolate the single Starfleet combadge blip in

that whole planetary region.

а "I've got him! He's there!"

а Her own voice surprised her.

"Morrison, energize! Right now, right now!"

Now she had to wait. A deck below, the transport-

er specialist was beaming up the life-form attached

to that cornbadge, and any other life-forms within

five meters of him.

ааа She couldn't shake the feeling that they might be

beaming up a corpse.

ааа "I'11 take over the helm, Julian," she said on a

whim. "You go down there and check."

ааа Bashir's eyes flashed with hope and worry.

"Thank you," he gasped, and he rushed off the

bridge. Dax took over the helm and punched the

comm. "Ensign Richardson to the bridge. I need you

for the helm. And find somebody with experience

and bring them with you for tactical and scanners."

а "Richardson, aye. On my way, Captain."

ааа Had O'Brien detonated the broadcast base? Yes,

all the dishes had chain-detonated. If the base

weren't destroyed too, the Jem'Hadar could reestab-

lish the sensor array in a couple of weeks.

ааа And the ship and crew weren't exactly out of hot

water yet. Shredding her orders, she had doubled

back for O'Brien on the thin chance that he had

survived a one-man assault on an enemy-packed

installation. Oh, well, why not?

а Had the transport process finished?

ааа No time to wait. If they didn't have him by now, it

was all over. Ensign Richardson and a new lieuten-

ant whose name she couldn't remember right now

appeared on the bridge and Dax was able to leave

the helm. She wanted to keep steering, but she knew

that if she was doing that job, she wasn't doing her

job--command.

ааа "Full impulse," she ordered. "Prepare for warp

speed. Head directly back into the core of the

cluster."

ааа "Understood," Richardson said, without bother-

ing to repeat the details.

аOn the screens all around the command area,

various visions played--the planet falling away

astern of them, the churning Argolis Cluster which

they would have to survive a second time when once

had been enough.

ааа "Phaser banks are nearly exhausted," Nog re-

ported.

ааа "Knew that was coming," Dax muttered, but she

was distracted by the hiss of the door panel and

turned to look. "With any luck, we won't need them.

How many of the torpedoes did we fire?"а

"Every last one of them."

"That's how it was supposed to work."

Nog sighed roughly. "It worked, all right."

Suddenly Julian Bashir piled out of the lift, his

greasy, dirty, sweaty face bright with a smile. "We

got him!"

ааа On closer look, Dax saw O'Brien limping out of

the lift, with Bashir's attentive support.

ааа "Chief--" she gasped. "You'll be ashamed of me

when you find out how much I had bet against you!"

ааа "S'all right," O'Brien drawled as Bashir led him to

her. "I can send the kids to college with the winnings

I get from betting against myselfi" "Well? Give me a report!"

ааа "Oh, mission accomplished. It took two assaults,

but we set all the grenades and they behaved like

champs. The whole base is shattered. Did the dishes

go up?"

а"Just like fireworks."

аO'Brien paled with relief and pressed a supportive

hand on the command chair. Apparently he really

hadn't known until now whether he completely

succeeded.

ааа "Are you all right, Miles?" Bashir asked. "Look at

your shoulderre"

ааа "It's all yours now, Julian," the chief told him.

"Oh, Dax, there's one thing. Tex! Come here. Right

over here. Don't trip on that wreckage."

ааа Firing the last shots allowed by the exhausted

phaser banks, Dax glanced over her shoulder and

saw a lanky stranger picking his way toward them.

Longish brown hair, dirty, humanoid. "From the planet?" she asked.

ааа "Couldn't have done it without him. You should

see these weapons he's got?'

ааа "Chief," Dax said quietly, "the Prime Direc-

tire..."

ааа O'Brien cocked his hip, winced, and drawled,

"Not a problem. Lost Earth colony. I'll explain

later."

ааа As the ship streaked away from the planet, still

pursued, still in trouble, Dax reached to clasp Tex's

hand. "Welcome to Starfleet. Doctor, show this man

to a post in the security team."

ааа Bashir beamed with relief and even delight. "Yes,

Captain!"

0

CHAPTER

аааааа 9

"THERE WERE several casualties, Captain. General

Martok lost his second officer and two senior engi-

neers. Eight of our lower-deck crew were killed in

the ship's outer areas. Thank you for asking about

Alexander."

ааа "How many Jem'Hadar ships did you manage to

draw away, Worf?"

ааа Sisko leaned forward and peered at the communi-

cations screen, at Worfs dogged face with its con-

stant scowl.

ааа On the screen, the cross between the Empire and

Starfleet looked as drawn as Sisko had seen him in

weeks.

а "We engaged at least five Jem 'Hadar," Worf told

him, "but we have no way of knowing how many

guard ships were left for Dax to face in the cluster."

ааа Sisko started to mention that they didn't even

know yet whether or not the Defiant had survived

the dangerous travel through the erupting core of the

cluster to engage any Jem'Hadar ships that might be

left behind. He would've voiced his concern, except

that the captain of that ship was engaged to the man

he was speaking to and Sisko was sensitive to

reminding Worf that his fiancee might now be dead.

ааа Besides, they both knew all the hard truths as well

as their own names. There was no comfort either

would take, or would attempt to give.

ааа Worf waited through their mutual discomfort,

then found a nonemotional question to ask. "Has

there been any news, sir?"

аSisko almost winced. It was emotional anyway.

а"None."

а "The Defiant has been gone over sixteen hours."

ааа Finally Sisko had to offer something, anything. "I

know this is difficult for you, Worf."

ааа "Yes, sir," Worf accepted, "but I sense it is more

difficult for you. The Defiant is your ship."

ааа Of course, he wasn't just talking about the ship,

Sisko knew. Worf was offering some kind of sympa-

thy for Sisko's having to stay here, in this office,

unable to share the pains or problems of his crew,

and a simple order or change of position couldn't

stop those people out there from being his crew.

ааа "Dax'11 bring her home," he said, mustering a hint

of confidence. "There's no way she's going to miss

her own wedding."

а "No," Worf said. "I suppose not."

ааа For a moment longer they regarded each other,

neither willing to forfeit the stronger position in a

relationship that now, though rarely, needed some-

body to be the comforting one.

ааа "As soon as I hear something," Sisko offered, 'Tll

let you know."

ааа "Thank you, sir. Captain, you shouM get some

rest."

ааа Sisko almost straightened in the chair, but trying

to pretend he wasn't exhausted would look just as

silly as pretending he wasn't worried.а "Not tonight."

ааа Without further amenities, Worf simply clicked

off the communication. Neither of them wanted to

hear any good-byes or over-and-outs.

ааа "I've got to get out of here somehow," he mur-

mured. "I've got to get back in command..."

ааа Only the whispering hum of the hardworking

tactical computer and the bubble of the replicator

making him another cup of coffee provided any

answer for his horrible mumble.

аааа Get out. Get back command. Big talk from a

аselfish man. How many other Starfleet officers were

аhungering right now, as he was, for command? To

аget back their chance, their dignity, their grip on the

аtwisting and turning of this war?

ааа Strange--so often the image of people in a war

was one of disgust, turning their backs, resisting the

terrible occurrences, wishing to blind themselves

from the sights and deafen the noises, but that

wasn't the reality. War, yes--a thousand ugly im-

ages, but the great halo was enthusiasm and devo-

tion, the fire with which so many quiet people stood

up and asked to fight. There were many, many

individuals out there right now who wanted a chance

to strike, as did Ben Sisko. Why should he, instead of

anyone else, get that chance? Unlike many, he hadn't

lost crewmates or a ship yet. He had only lost a

command. Even the station was not gone, not de-

stroyed. It was still out there, intact, functioning

somehow under the tricky pact he had forged be-

tween the Dominion and Bajor in order to keep the

planet and station from being decimated.

ааа He'd had an evacuation. Some embarrassment.

Other than that, why was he feeling sorry for him-

self?.

ааа Ah--this jumble of mental blades! War could

strip down a man's sense of solidity. He didn't know

anymore what he used to know for sure. Where he

belonged, who was his to worry about, where his son

was, and the focus of his existence. Now everything

was out of focus. Worf with Martok, Dax and the

ship and crew off on a deadly mission without him,

the station shrouded in silence, Jake unaccounted

for, and Ben Sisko himself here giving advice to an

admiral about tactical situations he had no experi-

ence with, in places he'd never even passed through.

ааа He wanted focus. He wanted a victory, so he could

shrug off this promotion.

аHow often could an officer say that?

ааа Whatever happened, from now on he would be

searching for a plan, a route, a plot, a chance to

make a great stride and somehow keep Admiral Ross

from making him a permanent fixture here at the

nest, while eagles soared elsewhere.

ааа "What the hell happened? Why didn't you disable

the alarm!"

ааа Kira Nerys was barely inside Odo's quarters when

the question bolted from her lips.

ааа He was here--in a cloudy sense of the wordm

regarding her with a glazed expression, a cold

Founder-like serenity.

ааа Would he have a reason for this? Could a shape-

shifter get drunk? Hypnotized?

ааа She didn't even have to ask what stopped him

from tripping the alarm. She already knew that. The

female shapeshifter had been in here again and

they'd done that melting thing. The mystery was

what had happened to Odo's sense of responsibility

and loyalty to people who were risking their lives

and depending on him to do his part in a plan he

agreed with.

а "It's difficult to explain," he murmured.

ааа "Rom is sitting in a holding cell, being interro-

gated!" she charged without waiting for any explana-

tion.

а "I know..."

ааааа "You know? Do you realize you handed the Alpha

Quadrant to the Dominion?"а "I was in the link..."

а "Are you telling me you forgot?"

ааа Seeming to glaze more deeply with every passing

second, Odo blinked slowly. "I didn't forget... it

just... didn't seem to matter..."

"A lot of people are going to die! Don't you care?"

Never in a decade would Kira have expected the

answer that burbled from her old friend in the next

seconds. He paused, searched for a way to say what

he was thinking, or dreaming.

а "It has nothing to do with me."

ааа Stunned and willing to show it, Kira gaped at him.

Was it really Odo sitting here or was this some kind

of cruel game by the female shapeshifter? Was this a

Founder's idea of a joke?

ааа Suddenly cold all over, she gasped, "How can you

say that?"

ааа "If you could experience the link," he attempted

weakly, "you'd know why nothing else matters..."

ааа The room turned colder, darker somehow. Kira

felt as if her feet were anchored to the deck, her arms

transforming to iron blocks. She waited, but he

made no change, no punch line, no excuses.

ааа Destroying the antigraviton beam and preventing

the Dominion from pulling down the minefield was

a simple gesture upon which the lives of uncounted

billions of people rested, and Odo was casting off its

importance as a general nothing. The fate of the

Alpha Quadrant had been his to implement, and he

had let it slough away like runoff after rain.

ааа On top of that, he had also cast off all the personal

investments they had made in each other, and their

friends had made in them. And the captain and the

station--everything.

ааа "The last five years," she rasped, "your life

here... our friendship... none of that matters?"

ааа He hesitated. He seemed almost to be having

trouble even remembering. "It did... once..."

ааа Kira tried to come up with something to say. But

what was left? Had everything she thought had

bonded them to each other over these years now

become simply a forgettable lie?

ааа "I wish I could make you understand," Odo said

sadly, almost pityingly. "But you can't... you're

not a changeling."

ааа So now they were on different sides. The line was

drawn. With the full measure of what she believed

was happening here, Kira took a defining step back-

ward.

а "That's right," she said. "I'm a 'solid.'"

аааа As the dividing line between them dropped to the

аfloor and took a set in the mud of disappointment,

аKira gave one last second's pitiful hope a moment to

dissolve, then turned and left him behind, where he

chose to be.

а "I'm going to die."

ааа Strange how much Rom ~ voice can sound like

mine when he's whining.

ааа Quark shook away the realization of familiar

suffering techniques and flinched uneasily as, beside

him, Leeta fought back tears at the sight of Rom

inside the holding cell. The soft buzz of the force-

field was a constant reminder that there would be no

reaching out, no hugs, no hopes for mercy, especially

not from the Jem'Hadar guard standing right over

there.

ааа "Stop saying that," Leeta gasped at her precious

other.

а"I didn't say it," Rom snapped. "He did."

аAnd he pointed at Quark.

ааа Stung, Quark irritably countered, "What I said is

that they're planning to execute you. It's not the

same as an execution order. Not yet, anyway."

а "It is to me."

ааа "Rom," Leeta interrupted, "we're not going to let

them hurt you. Kira has gone to the Bajoran Council

of Ministers. She's asking them to lodge an official

protest."

"That's sweet. But I doubt it'll do any good."

Quark waved a hand. "And I've talked to Grand

Nagus Zek himself and he's offered to buy your

freedom from the Dominion."

ааа Rom's thin lips peeled back from his filed teeth. "I

don't think Weyoun cares much for latinurn. I'm a

dead man."

аWithout a beat, Leeta broke into sobs.

ааа Quark felt his expression twist. "Would you please

stop upsetting LeetaT'

ааа "Sorry." Rom shifted uneasily, but given the

circumstances he was taking all this better than

Quark had anticipated. He figured he'd have two

sobbing lumps on his hands instead of just one.

ааааа "Besides," Quark went on, "you think your big

brother is going to let anything happen to you?"

а "What can you do?" Rom asked reasonably.

а "I'm not sure. But I'll think of something. No

а matter what it takes. No matter what I have to do,

а I'm going to get you out of here."

ааа Leeta turned soggy eyes of gratitude upon him.

"Oh, Quark--you do that and I'll work your dabo

tables for free!"

а "For how long?"

а "An entire year!"

а "Make it two."

"Brother!" Rom barked, cutting off the bargain.

Oh, well, couldn't blame a Ferengi for trying.

"Isn't your life worth three years?" Quark spat

through the forcefield. "Now sit tight and trust your

older brother."

а "But I don't want you to try to save me."

ааа What? Had he said that? Leeta seemed surprised

too. What kind of talk was that?

Quark squinted. "What kind of talk is that?"

"What are you talking about!" Leeta demanded at

the same time. "They must've done something to his

mind!"

а Quark smirked. "What mind?"

ааа "I'm serious," Rom insisted. "Brother, you have

more important things to worry about."

ааа "The bar's doing fine," Quark assured. "But

thanks for caring."

а "I'm not talking about the bar."

ааа "Rom," Leeta broke in, "what could be more

important than your life?"

ааа Instantly he said, "Destroying the antigraviton

beam to prevent the Dominion from taking down

the minefield." He looked at Quark and stepped as

close to the forcefield as he could get without burn-

ing his considerable nose. "You've got to finish what

I started! The fate of the entire Alpha Quadrant rests

in your hands. Billions and billions of people are

counting on you!"

ааа Quark drifted back a step and clutched his head.

"Boy, are they gonna be disappointed!"

ааа "Brother, you can do this! You have to do this.

You will do this!"

а"What happens if I get caught!"

ааа "Then we'll die together. Side by side, heads held

high, knowing we did our best."

ааа Caught up in his own vision of noble self-sacrifice,

Rom gazed at the far wall as if watching a tape of his

own heroism.

ааа Leeta warmed to the forcefield until it started to

crackle. "Oh, Rom..."

"But I don't want to die," Quark complained.

"If that's what's written," Rom girded up, "then

that's what's written. Now get going, brother. You

have a lot of work to do."

а"Father, I need to talk to you."

ааа As his daughter's voice lightened Dukat's office,

he looked up and smiled, accepting her kiss on his

cheek.

а"Is something wrong, my dear?" he asked.

а"Nothing that you can't fix."

ааа His daughter was a joy indeed. If only he'd known

earlier in her life what it meant to have a decent

young person to claim as his own--what others were

missing who didn't anchor themselves in the future

with children! If only he'd known.а "Name it," he offered.

ааа Ziyal smiled, and Dukat was warmed by her

reaction to his power, his control over the station,

his status as imperial overlord of the quadrant. For

this moment, all his power and influence meant

nothing more to him than whatever it could do to

make Ziyal smile again.

ааа She virtually bounced before him. "I want you to

free Rom."

а His own smile dropped away. "You're joking..."

ааа Ziyal's smile also dissolved, and she seemed sur-

prised. "Not at all."

ааа "I can't free Rom," Dukat told her. "He's been

sentenced to death by the Dominion. Ziyal... this

isn't a game or a piece of art. He committed an act of

terrorism against the Dominion. He tried to inter-

fere with our efforts to bring down the minefield.

The self-replicating mines were his idea in the first

place. He's not just Quark's sluggish brother any-

more--he must be made an example so others don't

make the same mistake."

ааа "He's married to a Bajoran citizen," Ziyal at-

tempted. "Doesn't that mean something?"

ааа Dukat stood up. "As far as Weyoun is concerned,

all that matters is that Rom's wife isn't also a

conspirator or the Dominion would happily execute

her too. Her Bajoran heritage buys only her life, not

Rom's. Weyoun is completely unaffected by the

formal protest from the Bajoran Council of Minis-

ters. The planet simply doesn't mean as much to

them as you might hope. Things will not likely go

well for Bajor when the minefield comes down and

the Dominion fleet comes through--"

ааа "You can pardon Rom," Ziyal encouraged, a lilt of

hope in her voice. "Don't you see, Father? This is

your chance to show the Bajoran peopleinto show

Major Kiramwho you really are! A forgiving, com-

passionate man... a great man!"

ааа In the midst of her enthusiasm for his reputation,

Dukat sensed something else and it worried him. He

took her hands in his and fixed his gaze upon her.

"Tell me, Ziyal... were you involved in any way

with the plan to sabotage the station?"

ааа She yanked her hands away. "No, I wasn't in-

volved!"

ааа "You're sure of that? I can't help you unless you

tell me the truth."

ааааа "I am telling you the truth!" she insisted. "The

question is, have you been telling me the truth!"

а Dukat tipped his head. "About what?"

ааа "That the Bajorans are wrong about you! That you

regret the horrible things you had to do during the

occupation."

"I do regret them," he told her. "Deeply."

"Then this is your chance to prove it to everyone,

including me!" Her eyes lit with possibility. "Show

us that you're capable of mercy!"

ааа But even for his daughter, Dukat knew he couldn't

forfeit the control upon which the future turned so

tenuously.

ааа He shook his head. "Rom is an enemy of the state.

And enemies of the state don't deserve mercy."

ааа Ziyal grew cold before him. "Spoken like a true

Cardassian."

а "I am a Cardassian. And so are you."

ааа "No." She pressed back, avoiding his attempt to

take her hands again. "I'm not. I could never be like

you."

ааа She turned with a brief scorching glare, and when

she had gone he felt burned.

а The pressure from many quarters had been grow-

ing lately. He didn't like it. Cardassians pressuring

him to subordinate the Jem'Hadar soldiers to them,

Jem'Hadar Firsts insisting they should be treated

like superiors because they were the fighting arm of

the Dominion, Weyoun pressuring him to bring

down the minefield, and all the time Dukat pressur-

ing himself to stall that process while he built

authority here and gave Cardassia a chance to re-

build.

ааа Now these pressures were beginning to crack his

shields. He couldn't give Ziyal what she wanted just

because she wanted it. Yes, she was half Bajoran,

struggling to be accepted on the planet, but large

stakes to her became small when placed upon the

desk of Gul Dukat.

ааа Weyoun--the Эorta was a problem much harder

to ignore. Pressure to bring down the minefield had

finally become inexorable, and this coincided, luck-

ily or unluckily, with Damar's idea to use the

station's deflectors as an antigraviton weapon

against the mines. Well, nothing lasted forever.

Cardassia had been given a breathing spell, Dukat

was firmly ensconced in authority here, and the

Jem'Hadar were no longer sure whether they or the

Cardassians were the supreme military force here.

There might be a period of unbalance when the

Dominion's first surge of reinforcements came

through the wormhole, but Dukat believed he could

hold out and continue the processes that he had been

able to put into play over the past months.

аааа He would have no choice. The minefield was

coming down. Slowly, but it would come down now.

а "Damar to Dukat."

а "Dukat here."

ааа "We're about to start firing the antigraviton beam,

sir."

ааа "Inform Weyoun. He won't want to miss it, I

imagine."

а "Must I?"

ааа "Yes, Damar, you must. Don't worry, I'll make

sure you get credit for the antigraviton idea."

"Should I tell Weyoun to come to your office?"

"We wouldn't be able to see the wormhole from

here. Besides, I don't like having him in my office.

Tell him to meet me in the wardroom." а"Yes, sir."

ааа A relatively short trip a quarter of the way around

the station's ring, roughly between his office and

Ops, was the officers' wardroom, with its large

viewport overlooking the area where the wormhole

existed, now shrouded in its dark repose. When the

minefield came down, the surge of Dominion ships

from inside would trigger the vortex. The great

swirling maw would open and offer them entry to

the Alpha Quadrant.

а Couldn't be put off forever, apparently.

аааа Still haunted by his encounter with Ziyal, his

аdaughter's disappointment in him churning in his

аgut, Dukat entered the wardroom to find that

аWeyoun was already there.

ааа "Ah... just in time for the show," Dukat offered.

"I have succeeded, as I assured you I would, in

conquering the ingenious minefield."

ааа "After so many months," the Vorta's milky voice

returned, "I'm glad you finally succeeded. It has

been pitiful to have such a meager thing as a string of

mines preventing the Dominion from opening the

wormhole."

а "Meager?" Dukat huffed. "Hardly."

а "As long as it is coming down."

ааа "As I said it would. Damar is about to begin. If

you'll join me at the viewport--"

ааа Weyoun moved to the port, standing no nearer

than absolutely necessary to Dukat, and together

they watched the black curtain of space in which

there seemed to be nothing, but in which there was

actually much.

ааа They stood for several seconds, waiting, not

speaking.

аааа Just when the pressure of silence began to mount,

a tiny flash erupted in the distant blackness.

а "There!" Dukat pointed out the port.

а "Where?"

ааа "Over there. That flash of light was the antigravi-

ton beam hitting a mine."

а"And disabling its replication unit?"

а"Exactly. Didn't you see it?"

а"I'm afraid not."

ааа Exasperated, Dukat sighed. "For months you've

been demanding that I take down those mines and

now that it's finally happening, you can't even see

it?"

а"Weak eyes."

аWeyoun turned and walked away from the port.

аDukat turned. "Excuse me?"

ааа "My people have poor eyesight," the Vorta

claimed. "It's something we've learned to live with.

The Jem'Hadar, on the other hand, have excellent

vision. I suppose they need it more than we do. I

suppose I'll have to take your word for it."

ааа Not about to fall for this, Dukat was determined

to master the moment. "Once we've disabled the

replication units in all the mines, we can detonate

the entire minefield. And I guarantee, weak eyes or

not, that explosion you will see."

ааа Weyoun faced him. "When will you be ready to

proceed?"

ааа "Approximately seventy-eight hours. Three more

days, and we can start bringing Jem'Hadar rein-

forcements through the wormhole."

аааа And that victory will be mine, due to the efforts of

аCardassians, not yours or any Vorta ~.

ааа Too excited to contain himself or pretend he

didn't adore the idea of the falling minefield,

Weyoun drew a sustaining breath. "Excellent. I

knew you could do it, Dukat."

а Dukat pressed his lips flat. "Did you?"

а "I never doubted you for a moment."

а Before Dukat could respond, the door opened and

аDamar strode in, fresh off his victory of killing the

аfirst mine. Though his pride showed in his face, he

аcontrolled the moment by not mentioning the mine-

аfield.

аааа "Sir, I have new information on enemy fleet

аmovements."

а "Go ahead," Dukat responded.

ааа "The allied Second Fleet has fallen back past the

Kotanka System, while the Fifth Fleet has pulled out

of the fighting along the Vulcan border." He crossed

to a wall monitor and tapped a few keys, until a star

chart came up. "Both fleets have converged here, at

Starbase 375."

ааа The ghostly face flashed in Dukat's mind. "Isn't

that where Captain Sisko is stationed?"

ааа Damar nodded. "He's been made an adjutant to

Admiral Ross."

ааааа "Good for him," Weyoun clipped. "Now, why

have those fleets gathered there?"а "I'm not sure."

ааа "You're not sure? Two large enemy fleets break off

from the front lines to rendezvous at a starbase and

you have no idea why?"

ааа Moving between them, Dukat said, "We'll have to

find out, won't we?"

аWeyoun nodded. "See that you do."

ааа In a state of reined worry, he quickly left the

room. Damar watched the Vorta leave and waited

until the door swished closed.

"He should speak to you with greater respect."

"One day," Dukat said, 'Tll let you teach him that

lesson. But right now, there's something more press-

ing I need you to do. It's of a personal nature... a

matter of some delicacy. It's about my daughter."

ааа Danmr seemed confused at being brought into the

familiar circle. "Ziyal?" he asked, as if Dukat had

any other daughter on DS9.

ааа "We've had a misunderstanding," Dukat ex-

plained. "I want you to go and convince her to speak

with me."

ааа "Sir... I really think I could be more valuable

tracking that enemy fleet--"

ааа "I've given you an order, Damar. We're on the

verge of a great victory. When it comes, I want my

daughter at my side. Is that understood?"

ааа No, it wasn't, Dukat knew, but what Damar

understood didn't matter. He couldn't go himself,

and he couldn't send anyone else. If Damar ap-

proached Ziyal, she would know for certain that her

father was sincere enough to send his busy aide,

interrupt station business and the trouble of an

interstellar war just to tell her that she was impor-

tant to him. It was a good signal. Damar would go.

He might stall for a few days, but eventually, he

would do as Dukat ordered. Dukat hoped he could

predict what Ziyal would think about the gesture.

аааа What Damar thought about it... Dukat cared

аnot at all.

а "Nausicaans? You can't trust them."

а "I trust latinum. And so do they."

ааа Quark poured a warm cup of raktajino for Major

Kira and put it on the bar before her.

ааа "Five bars will buy me five Nausicaans, a fast ship,

and very few questions. Breaking Rom out of the

holding cell will be child's play compared to the

things they're used to doing."

ааа "Forget it, Quark," she drawled. "Freeing Rom is

going to take careful, precise planning. That's not

the Nausicaan way. They're thugs. They'll come

strutting onto the station, look at the Jem'Hadar the

wrong way, and the next thing you know there'll be

blood on the Promenade."

ааа Quark shrugged. As if that would be a bad

thing... then again, if she was right, there might be

a security crackdown and Rom would be in even

worse trouble. Although worse than a death sentence

was hard to envision.

"Think I can get my money back?" he asked.

Before she could answer, they were both graced

with the presence of Damar pressing up to the bar.

"Major," the Cardassian said, "a freighter loaded

with Tammeron grain is due to arrive within the

hour. See to it that Cargo Bay Five is ready to receive

it."

ааа Kira looked at him as if wondering why he felt the

need to tell her about a freighter that was still an

hour away. 'Tll take care of it," she said.

а"Yes, you will. Now."

ааа She glared at him, irritated. Quark watched the

two of them, the interplay of venom coursing along

between them, and enjoyed his part in it. Damar was

here because Quark now had tacit control over him,

and nobody knew it. Damar wanted Kira to leave so

he could be alone with his wondrous guru--the

provider of the ancient kanar laced with... trade

secrets.

ааа "That attitude of yours, Major," Damar warned,

"it won't be tolerated forever."

ааа Pushing off her stool, Kira responded, "You don't

like my attitude, Damar? You're welcome to try and

change it."

ааа Quark reached for the special decanter of kanar.

Damar watched Kira leave, then said, "I don't

understand what Dukat sees in that woman."

ааа "Then you need to get your eyes examined. One

kanar. Want me to leave the bottle?"

ааа Damar nodded. He eyed the decanter. "Maybe I

should have you taste it first. Make sure it isn't

poisoned."

ааа Quark smiled. "Poisoning customers is bad for

business."

ааа "True," Damar accepted, "but some people might

place a brother's revenge above business."

ааа "Not this Ferengi," Quark told him. He was

supremely confident. Damar would trust him im-

plicitly after the first sip, when the drugged kanar

triggered reactivation of the previous session.

ааа This had been going on for weeks now. Damar had

no idea he was drawn to the bar by any but his own

inner controls. He also had no idea that his inclina-

tion to trust Quark was anything less than his own

solid judgment.

ааа After the first swig, predictably, Damar was al-

most immediately gazing at him with unshielded

respect. "You're a credit to your race, Quark," the

aide said. "Unlike your brother, you've chosen to

back the winning side."

ааа "Mmm." Quark poured him another drink--all

the way up to the rim this time. "All right... are

you going to tell me, or do you want me to guess?"

ааа Damar's eyes were already glazing. "Tell you

what?"

ааа "Don't be coy with me. Either sonleone you don't

like has died or your promotion came through."

ааа "It's better than that." Damar took a long drag on

the kanar, swallowed laboriously, then steadied him-

self. "It's about the minefield." "What about it?"

ааа The Cardassian leaned closer and lowered his

voice. "It's coming down."

ааа Unimpressed, Quark fished for more information

with, "I've heard that before."

ааа Damar took another sip. "Remember those field

tests I was telling you about? They were successful.

We've begun to deactivate the mines."

аForcing his expression to feign something other

than the worry he felt, Quark nodded. "Well...

you've got your work cut out for you. What's it going

to take? A couple of months? A year?"

аDamar smiled ridiculously. "One week."

ааа "A week?" Quark gulped. "One week to take down

hundreds upon hundreds of mines in a grid half the

size of a planet?"

ааа Leaning back and pressing his wrists in satisfac-

tion to the bar, Damar cupped a hand around his

glass.

ааа "That's right," he said. "One week... and the

Alpha Quadrant will be ours!"

CHAPTER

ааааа lO

"A W~K? You're sure about that?"

ааа Kira blurted her questions so loudly that she had

to draw back quickly and hope nobody heard over

the noise of the bar's customers and the dabo

tables.

ааааа "That's what he said," Quark told her, "and

believe me, it was no idle boast."а "We've got to stop them..."

ааа "And end up sharing a cell with my brother? No,

thanks. If we could only get to Odo... make him

see what's going on. He'd have to help us--"

ааа "Forget about Odo," Kira ordered in an unkind

way, peered at being reminded that she hadn't been

able to see Odo and that he'd been holed up in his

quarters with that excuse for a female, enjoying the

"link" while the Alpha Quadrant shuddered around

them. "First, we can't get to him. And second, he

wouldn't help us if we did."

ааа Quark filled a warm glass for her, even though she

hadn't ordered anything. They had to keep up ap-

pearances. "Then what we have to do," he said, "is

warn Starfleet."

ааа She looked up. "And how do you suggest we get a

message out to them?"

ааа "You're asking me? You're the terrorist. I'm just a

bartender."

ааа Kira appreciated his attempt at a joke, but it

didn't make her feel any better. A week... if the

minefield went down that soon, if Starfleet were

taken by surprise by a huge fleet of Dominion ships,

Bajor and the station would be overwhelmed, the

war could be over in a matter of days, and the

Dominion would rule the quadrant.

ааа Pausing in the middle of chaos to stretch a muscle

in her back, she groaned inwardly as Jake Sisko

sauntered to them with that postpubescent grin.

That's all she needed--

ааа "From the look on your faces," the young man

said, "I can see you haven't had much luck getting

Rom out of jail."

ааа "And the news just keeps getting worse," Quark

finished.

аJake settled onto a stool. "It's not all that bad."

а"Trust us, Jake," Kira grumbled, "it is."

ааа "Not for me. I'm getting a message through to my

dad."

а Kira straightened instantly. "How?"

а "I'm a reporter. I have my ways."

а "Jake! This is no time for games!"

ааа Smiling, he turned and pointed at a nearby table,

where one of the bar's regulars, a sluglike creature

they all knew well, was using his huge mitts to

fumble a ribbon around a box. He almost never

spoke, and he sure couldn't tie a bow. "Morn?" Kira asked.

ааа "He's going home for his mother's birthday or

something. He has an encrypted message for my dad

in one of her presents."

ааа "Of course!" Kira knotted her shoulders with

anticipation. "I cleared him over to Cardassian

customs with a limited visa myselfi Do you think

this can work?"

ааа Jake leaned toward her. "It's already working. The

Cardassians know him and don't think he's smart

enough to be involved in any kind of espionage.

They're taking bets about whether he'll even be able

to find his way to his mother's colony!"

ааа "Bets?" Quark perked up. "Who's brokering the

bets?"

ааа "Down, Quark," Kira said. "This isn't the time

for you to be skimming. Let's just very quietly go

over there... and have a drink with our old pal

Morn."

ааа So far, so good. Morn didn't even want to know

what information he was carrying. Kira checked him

onto the cargo freighter herself, knowing that he

would quietly move across the lines, then funnel the

news about the minefield's imminent fall through to

Captain Sisko. Almost time to launch...

ааа Clear them through the station's security

codes... good. One more level... release the

docking clamps... cleared for launch.

Good-bye, Morn. Work fast. Only days to go.

How long would it take him to get the message

through to Captain Sisko? They only had a week,

and Starfleet would need time to pull together an

offensive that suddenly. Kira's head swam as she

tried to avoid imagining that kind of hustling.

а "Nerys?"

а She flinched, and wheeled around--"Ziyal?"

ааа A movement in the shaded outlines of the

docking-ring cargo bay drew her eye, and Dukat's

daughter stepped toward her, almost shy in her

manner.

аKira let out a relieved huff. "Ziyal."

ааа "Can I talk to you?" the girl said. "I need to talk to

somebody... and it's been so long since we've spent

any time together--"

ааа "I told you," Kira said, finishing the closeouts on

the launch sequence, "you shouldn't have to choose

between me and your father. I don't expect that.

He's your father."

аZiyal pressed her shoulder against the nearest

bulkhead and gazed at the carpet. "I thought things

would be better. I thought we could move toward

some kind of peace between Bajor and Cardassia."

ааа "You can't hope for that, Ziyal, just because

you're half of each. Real life doesn't work that way.

Your blood isn't really half one and half the other--

and you are who you want to be, not a divided

person. Bajor and Cardassia have different visions of

what life should be. They can't just sit back and

smile at each other. And they shouldn't have to."

ааа Ziyal nodded sadly. "I really believed that my

father had changed... that he wanted to be a man

of peace."

ааа "I think he believes that, too, whenever it suits his

purpose."

"Everything he's ever said to me has been a lie."

Kira looked at her. Couldn't let things go that far,

could she? "Not everything. He really does care for

you."

ааа "I don't care," the girl protested. "I'm not going

back to him. You don't believe that, do you?"

ааа Letting the transfer sequence and the refueling log

take care of itself, Kira turned away from the panel.

"Right now, you're angry and disappointed. But

that'll pass. And then you'll have to decide what to

do."

ааа Ziyal started to say something else, but the nearest

doors parted. Damar.

ааа "Ziyal," the Cardassian blurted immediately, "I

need to speak to you."

ааа "You and I have nothing to talk about," she told

him.

ааааа He squared off before them. "Maybe not. But you

and your father do. He wants to see you."а

"Well, I don't want to see him."

ааа Kira motioned toward the doors. "You heard her,

Damar."

ааа "Stay out of this, Major. Listen to me, Ziyal. Your

father is a great man. A man of destiny. But he also

carries great burdens. He knows our alliance with

the Dominion is a dangerous one. If we show any

sign of weakness, our allies will turn on us. That's

why we must all help your father remain strong. So I

ask you to be a true daughter of Cardassia and stand

beside him."

ааа "It should be obvious," Ziyal said, "even to you,

Damar, that I am not a 'true daughter of Car-

dassia.'"

ааа "What's obvious to me," he said through gritting

teeth, "is that your father should've left you to rot in

that Breen prison camp. But he didn't. He took pity

on you and it's your duty to repay him. Now, come

with me."

ааа He grasped her arm and physically turned her

toward the doors.

ааа Enough. Kira reached out and pushed him.

"Leave her alone."

ааа Delighting in the situation, Damar snarled, "And

if I don't?"

а"I was hoping you'd ask."

ааа Kira knew she was a narrow sort of person with

tiny hands and not much muscle, but she was also a

trained resistance fighter who had never forgotten a

few key weaknesses in Cardassian physiology.

Damar, on the other hand, was a drowsy bureaucrat

who hadn't physically fought with anybody in years.

He also never expected her to actually hit him. Add

to that concoction about three months of frustration

to work off, and Kira had plenty of crushing force to

deliver.

ааа Jaw, gullet, secondary rib cage--bony brow.

Down he went.

ааа Now she had a sore hand, a bruised set of knuck-

les, and a deep breath of satisfaction. That felt great!

аааа Ziyal stepped back, her arms flared, and gaped at

the lump of Damar on the deck. "Did you kill him?"

а "No, but I thought about it."

а"What are you going to do when he wakes up?"

а"That's up to him. Let's get out of here."

а"Ben? Ben! You in here?"

"I'm in the anteroom, Admiral--what's wrong?"

"The Defiant's just docking up! I wanted to tell

you myself instead of over the comm. I wanted to

see your face."

ааа "Well, here it is!" Ben Sisko finished changing into

a fresh uniform and bolted out of the anteroom into

the main area of his office, to find Admiral Ross

standing there like a kid about to go to a season-

ender. "Why didn't they call in?"

ааа "Their whole comm system's down. I didn't even

know they were on approach until the lightship

notified my liaison at the dockmaster's office."

ааа Sisko rushed out into the corridor and headed for

the nearest turbolift, with Admiral Ross jogging

after him. He dodged into the lift and barely waited

for Ross to get in before ordering, "Internal space-

dock, slip number 11."

ааа "No, Ben," Ross corrected. "They'll be debarking

to the mess hall. The ship had to be cleared immedi-

ately. Toxic leaks."

"Leaks?" Sisko frowned. "Damn that cluster..."

Ross didn't respond. There was nothing much to

say--they had no information about how many

casualties--

ааа "Wait a minute," Sisko blurted suddenly. "If

they're on the station--" He tapped his cornbadge.

"Sisko to Dax. Are you reading?"

ааа "Dax here. We're docked and debarked. O'Brien

overseeing the preliminary diagnostics. Mission ac-

complished-the array is down."

ааа A light-headed relief almost lifted him off his feet.

"Congratulations, old man, and good work. What

are your losses?"

ааа "Six dead, fifteen injuries, two serious. Julian~

already released several of them, and the two criticals

have been moved to the Starbase infirmary under care

of the new trauma team. I relieved Julian of responsi-

bility for them and ordered him to stand down. He

was about to stay up another thirty-six hours and try

аto care for them himself. Instead, he g down here with

аme, flirting with a pretty ensign."а "We're almost there, Dax."

аааа Ross smiled. "Tell them we're recommending

аthem for E.P.D. citation."

аааа Sisko returned the smile. "Dax, the admiral is

аrecommending you and the whole crew for excep-

аtional performance of duty citations."

ааааа "That~ very gracious, and I think we'll just take

аthose and retire to a sunny climate."а "We don't blame you."

а "See you in a minute. Dax out."

ааа "They sure sound proud of themselves," Ross

said. "I can't wait to read their report. Bet it beats its

way to the top of the best-seller list."

ааа "I'll bet it will." Swimming in relief and satisfac-

tion, Sisko couldn't stop smiling. Why was this

turbolift going so slowly? "Sir, if you're in agree-

ment, I'd also like to recommend that Cadet Nog be

given a promotion to ensign."

ааа "How close is he to graduating from the Acad-

emy?"

ааа "Close enough to risk his life on a virtually

suicidal mission through the Argolis Cluster."

ааа "Good point. Recommendation accepted. Now

you tell me... how can you grin like that? There

are six dead people over there. Some of them might

be your closest friends."

ааа "It's a chance we take," Sisko told him, for a

moment enjoying the superiority of having com-

manded a small ship, when he knew Ross never had

a command that intimate, and never during a major

conflict. "If we'd lost any of our immediate family,

Dax would've sounded different. I'd have known.

She mentioned O'Brien and Bashit, so they're all

right, but... I know it seems callous. Losing any

shipmate is hard, even if we don't know that person,

but we all know why we're fighting and what the

risks are. It's not as if anyone signed on for active

duty without understanding. We all accept that,

Admiral... and none of us want to be mourned too

much. It's the last gift we can give each other."

ааа Ross seemed momentarily circumspect. 'Tll re-

member that. As soon as O'Brien's diagnostic is

finished, we'll start repairs on the Defiant and get her

restaffed."

ааа Now, at a note he'd come to recognize in the

admiral's tone, Sisko dropped his smile. "What's the

rush, sir? They just came in."

ааа "I know," Ross said, and sighed. "And they're

going right back out. I'm taking your recommenda-

tion of immediate action in Bravo, Delta, and Zebra

sectors. Now that the sensor array is down, we can

make those major strikes we've been holding back

on. We can move ships and squadrons, and we've got

to do it before the Dominion gets any more advan-

tages. Now, don't look at me like that. This is your

plan. We don't have time for shore leaves or molly-

coddling. I want you to make a plan for Dax to hit

one of those critical depots."

ааа Sisko had let the admiral speak, hoping that at the

bottom of all those words might be lurking a re-

installation of himself as commander of the Defiant.

No such luck. He'd made himself too valuable as a

tactician.

ааа They strode in rather odd silence to the mess hall

and immediately swept inside. As the panels parted,

a gush of noise and cheer rushed out and embraced

them, drawing them inside. Sisko did an automatic

head count of how many of the crew were here and

who they were, but said nothing about it.

ааа "Admiral on deck)" Nog shouted from the table

where he was handing out drinks.

ааа The crew snapped to attention, but Ross immedi-

ately said, "Carry on."

ааа And they did. This time there was nothing sub-

dued about their celebration, even with the admiral

and his adjutant in attendance.

ааааа "Nog!" Dax called as she strode toward them,

"Saurian brandy for the brass!" Brass...

ааа Just as Dax reached them, a slightly besotted

Julian Bashir, with a bruise on his left temple,

headed her off. "Dax! Would you tell Ensign Kirby

how I took over the conn when Lieutenant Haj was

injured during the attack? She doesn't believe me."

ааа "Frankly," Dax demurred, "I'm not sure it really

happened myself."

ааа She gave him a scolding look, and only now Bashir

realized he was standing with his back to Sisko and

the admiral. He turned, made a polite, "Sir... sir,"

and melted back into the crew.

а"Congratulations, Captain," Ross said to Dax.

ааа "Thank you, sir. If you'll excuse me, I need to talk

to Julian."

ааа Sisko thought it was odd that she ducked away

from them like that. Perhaps she was embarrassed to

be in command of a ship she knew he wanted, or

perhaps she was afraid the admiral might make that

command permanent here and now if she lingered.

He didn't know. He wasn't really in a position to

ask, either. That wouldn't're been decorous.

ааа Disturbed that things had changed so much be-

tween himself and his closest friends, Sisko accepted

his brandy from Nog with less than rousing enthusi-

asm. He muttered something to Ross, but didn't

even listen to himself.

ааа He roused only when Miles O'Brien appeared,

carrying another empty phaser canister. Sisko

straightened his shoulders, towering over most of

the crewmen here, but O'Brien didn't see him.

Instead, he headed directly for Dax.

ааа "Another one, Captain," the engineer said, and

shifted the metal canister into Dax's arms.

ааа Carrying it like a big ugly baby, Dax held the

canister for all to see. "Take a good look! This says

something about us. It says we're willing to fight and

that we'll keep on fighting until we can't fight any-

more."

а "Yes, sir!" the crew predictably cheered.

а "You don't throw something like this away!"

а "No, sir!"

ааа Just as Sisko had all the times before, Dax moved

to the side of the mess hall and clanked the canister

into place with all the others.

ааа Sisko almost shriveled with embarrassment. Dax

had used his exact words. He knew why--she was

making an effort at tribute to him. But he didn't feel

flattered by her effort. He felt shunted aside, pathet-

ic, patronized.

а"They're a good crew," Ross said quietly.

ааа Cold and envious, worried about the new mission

he would have to foist upon these people within a

day, Sisko buried a shudder. "The best." Ross was watching him. Knew. Saw.

ааа "What do you say," the admiral wisely suggested,

"we get back to work?"

аSisko hated him for understanding.

аBut followed Ross out. What else could he do?

Boldly they rode and well . . .

0

CHAPTER

ааааа 11

"CADET?"

ааа "Continuing to emit distress signals on all fre-

quencies."

а"Chief?."

ааа "We're still venting plasma... any ship passing

within a hundred million kilometers will know we're

here... and that we're not going anywhere."

ааа Miles O'Brien made his report tersely. They were

adrift, leaking all the juices of life, engines cold.

ааа This was how it had been for weeks. When the

Dominion's sensor array fell, a flurry of confused

offensive activity erupted among the Jem'Hadar

forces. Afraid they'd be attacked all over the front,

they took the offensive and began attacking anything

they could find, any outpost, any ship, any squadron,

any transport. Instead of picking and choosing, they

were now trying to attack and defend everything.

Yes, this was wearing the unreinforced, white-

starved Dominion forces thin, but it was also taking

tremendous effort on the parts of Starfleet and the

Klingons just to keep up the level of harassment.

There could be little forward movement--in fact,

they'd almost reached a stalemate as far as progress

was concerned. For a tie game, there were plenty of

losses.

ааааа "In other words, we're sitting ducks," Julian

Bashir wearily tacked onto O'Brien's tepid report.

а "Looks that way," O'Brien confirmed.

ааа Dax made no response to them, though O'Brien

automatically glanced at her. They were all tense,

focused, watching for the slightest miscalculation,

each battling to keep from becoming casual about

the danger or even about dying.

ааа "We have company, Captain," Nog abruptly re-

ported. "Two Dominion ships heading this way,

bearing one-nine-seven mark one-three-five."

ааа Just what they'd expected. O'Brien came to life

instantly, then pulled his hands back from the

automatic movements his fingers wanted to make.

"They'll have us in weapons' range in twenty-two

seconds."

ааа Dax looked intently at the forward screen as

two Jem'Hadar fighters streaked toward them.

"Shields?"

аNog said, "Shields at thirty percent."

ааа O'Brien planted both feet on the deck and pre-

pared for what was coming.

а"Phaser banks?" Dax asked.

а"The entire weapons array is off line."

"What do we do now, Captain?" Bashir wondered.

Dax gripped her command chair as the first of the

Jem'Hadar ships wheeled into weapons range. "Now

we find something to hold on to."

ааа Over the last of her words, they were strafed

mercilessly. The shell of Defiant thundered around

them, hammering their ears and their bodies with

shock after shock. O'Brien had braced his legs on the

deck, and now the deck surged, ramming his knees

into the underdeck of his engineering panel.

ааа "Shields are down to twenty percent," Nog re-

ported.

аааа O'Brien winced at his knees and the report. "I

don't know how much more of this we can take--"

а "Steady, people," Dax reminded.

ааа The waiting was the worst. If this went on much

longer--

"Look!" Nog shouted as the screen changed.

Now they could see a Klingon bird of prey, and

how pretty it was, decloak behind one of the Domin-

ion ships and blast it to shards. "Now?" O'Brien asked.

ааа "Now!" Dax sat up straighter. "Shields up, en-

gines at full impulse, power to main phasers--"

а"Target locked."

а "Fire!"

аа аSitting ducks playing possum... they were every

kind of animal but trapped. Around them, all sys-

tems surged to life with an audible hum, and the

Defiant unloaded a barrage of phaser fire on the

second Jem'Hadar ship. Before their eyes--and

close enough to rattle their hull with shrapnel--the

enemy ship was obliterated.

ааа "Cadet," Dax instantly asked, "any more Domin-

ion ships out there?"

а "None that I can see."

ааа Dax punched the shipwide comm. "This is the

captain speaking. All hands, stand down. Good job,

people."

ааааа "We're being hailed by the Rotarran," Nog said.

"Commander Worf would like to speak to you."

а "On screen."

ааа The image of Worf--a welcome sight even though

they'd been faking--gave O'Brien a rush of good

cheer in the midst of the daily grind of stalemate,

which was immediately crushed by an all-ships alert

he picked up on officer-only comm reroute. As Dax

greeted their "rescuers," O'Brien collected the com-

muniqufi.

а"My hero." Dax was smiling.

ааа "Well done, Captain," Worf responded. Not ex-

actly a balcony scene. "You were a very effective

decoy."

ааа "How about next time we switch roles? That way,

I can rescue you?"

ааа O'Brien sighed. No getting around this. "You may

have to wait awhile, Captain. We've just received

orders from Starfleet Command. All ships in this

sector are to fall back to Starbase 375."

ааа She looked at him as if it were his fault. "Fall back

again?"

аThe sense of victory now crumbled.

ааа "Engage and retreat, engage and retreat," O'Brien

chanted. "I'm telling you, that's become our favorite

tune."

ааа "Well," Bashir added, "we'd better learn a new

one or the next song we'll be singing will be 'Hail the

Conquering Dominion.'"

ааа Irritated, Dax said, "I wouldn't start learning

those lyrics just yet, Doctor. Worf, we'll see you at

Starbase 375."

а "I'll be waiting."

"Set a course for these coordinates, warp seven."

O'Brien pushed out of his chair and worked his

bruised knees over to the command deck. "Is this a

plan or isn't it? We're doing some kind of profitless

waltz and it's getting harder and harder to explain."

а "I know," she said.

аааа "We're holding our own for now, but every exer-

cise costs us in weapons and fuel, if not manpower."

а "I know, Chiefi"

ааа "The hardier souls among us might hope this was

all part of a bigger plan Starfleet Command has for a

few eventual forward movements, but from this

level, it's a bit hard to see into the future."

а "I know, I know."

ааа "Captain Sisko must know what's going on... he

keeps sending us out on these hit-and-runs. Maybe

you could ask... I mean he is our..."

ааа Failing a polite articulation, he gave up. His hand

was making some pathetic waves, and now he turned

it upward to give his head a scratch.

ааа "If there isn't some kind of plan," Dax inter-

rupted, "if this is just a holding pattern and all we're

doing is keeping the Dominion from overrunning

us, then eventually that minefield will fall and the

enemy will get reinforcements. And we don't have

any reinforcements to get. Fuel, weapons, man-

power... the most dangerous loss is going to be the

will to fight among the troops. And that's when we'll

lose the war."

ааа O'Brien leaned an elbow on the command chair to

spare his throbbing knees, and felt the cloying pres-

sure of reality depress his chest.

а"I know," he said.

ааа "Admiral, the time has come. There's only so

much icy composure we can ask of our troops while

we thin out the Dominion forces. We've brought the

Dominion down to our level of military capability,

but we haven't brought our own up any. We've

weakened the enemy as much as we can, in my

opinion, and the situation's getting precarious. It'll

start tipping in the Dominion's favor again if we

don't push it our way soon."

а"I know."

ааа Admiral Ross's response was not enheartening.

Ben Sisko knew Ross had come to his office instead

of the other way around in order to give him a little

boost, and now he was talking to the admiral about

giving everybody a boost. Wars could be won or lost

on morale, and this one was on its firing line.

ааа "You asked to see me," Ross went on, "so I'm

going to assume you've got some big idea that you've

had in mind while you implemented all these little

ideas. Go ahead, Ben, you don't have to run around

the perimeter with me."

ааа The keen assessment of what Sisko had been doing

was embarrassing in its accuracy, but Sisko couldn't

resist a smile. He'd been in command in a distant

post so long that he'd gotten used to being the

smartest kid in class and knowing what was happen-

ing on many levels. Ross's bluntness disarmed him.

How long had the admiral known Sisko was coyly

magistrating an overriding plan?

ааа Maybe this was why the admiralty held so few

attractions for Sisko and many captains--because a

good captain is a person able to find strength and

abilities where there might appear to be few, to tease

out and efficiently use the talents of whatever crew

was assigned to him, without the ability to pick and

choose people. An admiral had to be something else,

and not everybody could do that.

ааа Ross was like a very successful coach of a sports

team. He couldn't hit a ball out of the park or race

around the bases in a matter of seconds, but he had

always had the ability to see who could and push

them to do it. This made him very valuable to

Starfleet. As an admiral, he might have twenty

people telling him what to do. He was good at the

important part--picking the right twenty people.

Then, he was also good at deciding who was the

most right of a lot of possible rights, and which of

those was best to carry out those plans--not always

the same people at all.

ааа He was also smart enough to damned well realize

he'd never commanded anything small and inti-

mate. He couldn't count on his own experience for

that kind of thing, and he was bright enough not to

try.

ааа As Sisko responded to a simple at-ease motion by

Ross and settled back into his chair, he felt a flicker

of respect for this man from whom he'd tried to keep

his real intentions hidden. Ross did him a favor by

sitting down also.

ааа "We tied the score with the attack on the ketracel-

white processing station," Sisko began. "Then we

tipped it our way when we destroyed the sensor

array. That gave us an opportunity to move our

fleets and squadrons without the Dominion's know-

ing what we were doing. We've made strategic hits

since then, but we've been asking a lot of our troops

simply by not explaining any long-term plan to

them."

а"We couldn't," Ross said. "It's been the same for

every admiral. We're barely speaking to each other,

for fear of hidden shapeshifter spies. It's very hard

to coordinate anything."

ааа For an instant Sisko held his breath, wondering if

Ross's intuition had tipped him off about plans

between Sisko and Martok, or if the admiral had

noticed how many of Sisko's small mission plans

had been enacted by Martok and the Defiant. Of

course he'd noticed. How could he not?

ааа But Ross spared him the further revealing.

"You've been planning something," he urged. "Time

to tell me."

ааа Sisko nodded, thereby acknowledging that Ross

had him and the time had indeed come.

ааа "I want to make a comprehensive assault on the

Bajoran system and repossess it before the minefield

falls."

ааа Ross blinked, then laughed openly. "You don't