Devil in the Sky Read online

  “The security team you assigned, they’re all Starfleet. No Bajorans, aside from me. What’s the story?”

  “Does there have to be a story?” Sisko said.

  “The majority of the station’s security forces are Bajoran. The Horta had been invited by Bajorans for a Bajoran project. The attack on the cruiser occurred in Bajoran space.” Kira’s voice grew more forceful with each point she recited. “And yet, there are almost no Bajorans involved in the rescue mission. Oh, I think there’s a story, Commander, and I’d like to know what it is.”

  She is my first officer, he thought. She deserves an honest answer. “I don’t want this situation to escalate, Kira. Because of your history, Bajorans and Cardassians are a volatile combination. For that reason, I’m reluctant to send a team of armed Bajorans into Cardassian territory.”

  “You don’t trust us to behave?” Kira asked sarcastically.

  “I trust you,” Sisko emphasized. “But your mission is to bring back Ttan, not start a war or avenge old wrongs. We have many fine Bajoran security officers, but I’d rather use Starfleet personnel on this particular mission. Sorry.”

  Kira’s eyes blazed, but she kept her voice even. “I disagree strongly. Bajorans have a large stake in this mission, and we shouldn’t be treated like trigger-happy children.”

  “Fine,” Sisko said. “Your objections are noted. But we’ll do this my way.”

  “Understood,” Kira said. She turned and walked out the door, her spine straight as a spear. “I’ll be under way shortly.” The double doors closed behind her with a whish of air.

  “Good luck,” Sisko said. He took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. After a moment’s thought, he tapped his comm badge. “Chief O’Brien. Report to Ops in about fifteen minutes. I want to talk to you about some eggs.”

  * * *

  Dax returned to Sisko’s office before O’Brien arrived. A black equipment pouch was at her side, held on by a strap over her shoulder. Her blue eyes observed Sisko with warmth and concern. “You wanted to see me, Benjamin?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the intricate Saltah’na clock resting on his desk. “Find any likely coordinates?”

  Dax sat down on one corner of his desk. They’d known each other too long to worry about Starfleet protocol, at least in private. “The closest Cardassian mining colony is an L-class planet in the Xoxa system, about twelve hours away at warp three. There are other possibilities, but they’re much more distant. Of course, they could have taken Ttan to a new mine we know nothing about, or maybe even an archaeological dig.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” he said. He’d even considered the possibility that the Cardassians might have some insane idea of using the Horta in a military operation; after all, one Horta had managed to kill several armed humans during the Federation’s first encounter with their species. Fortunately, that initial misunderstanding had been straightened out quickly, close to a century ago.

  “The Xoxa colony sounds like our best bet, though,” he continued. “We’ll have to try there—and hope for the best.” He looked again at the bronze Saltah’na clock he’d constructed some time ago, while under the influence of an alien matrix; almost three hours had passed since the Horta had vanished from the bridge of the Puyallup. Thank goodness her children were safe, at least. “Jadzia, do we have any idea when those eggs are likely to hatch?”

  “According to the immigration files in the Puyallup’s data banks, not for a week or two,” she said. “Horta births are no more predictable than human delivery dates, of course, but I think you’ve some breathing space before the children emerge. And don’t forget, the eggs are also confined in a stasis field, which should keep them dormant for the time being.”

  A mental image came to his mind, of over a dozen baby Hortas, like huge corrosive earthworms, awaking without their mother. If they were to hatch, what was he supposed to feed them? Raw rhodinium ingots? Kira, he thought, get Ttan back soon. “Is the away team ready?” he asked Dax.

  “Almost. The runabout’s being refitted with a larger passenger module, as well as additional torpedoes. Julian’s getting together some special medical supplies. The security team is armed and ready. Kira will page me when she’s ready; it should be soon.” She gave Sisko a searching look. “Benjamin, what did you really want to talk about? I haven’t got much time.”

  “It’s Kira,” he said. “You know how hot-blooded she can be, especially where Cardassians are concerned.”

  “That’s to be expected,” Dax responded. “She’s fought the Cardassians her whole life, seen friends and allies victimized by them time after time.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Frankly, there’s no love lost between me and Gul Dukat. But I don’t want this hostage situation to erupt into a shooting war, not with DS9 so close to the border and Starfleet so far away.” Sisko paused. The polished gears of the Saltah’na timepiece rotated notch by notch. “I just want you to keep an eye on things, and a cool head about you. Kira and Bashir are good officers, but they can both be impetuous, Julian because of his youth and Kira because, well, she’s Kira. Together, on a risky search-and-rescue beyond the Cardassian border …” Sisko permitted himself a pained expression. “Without stepping on Kira’s authority, do what you can to keep this mission from getting more complicated. I’ve known you longer than anyone else on this station, so I know I can count on you.”

  “Even in this new body?” she asked. Sisko smiled. Sometimes he still visualized her as the rascally, silver-haired man she’d been when they first met.

  “Even if your next host is a Ferengi,” he declared.

  Dax grimaced, as if imagining a particularly unappetizing meal. “Please, Benjamin, let’s not get carried away.” Then she grinned at him mischievously. “I mean they’re a nice species to visit, but I wouldn’t want to be one.”

  A chime from her badge interrupted them abruptly. “Kira to Dax,” the major’s voice said. “Meet me at Landing Pad Two.”

  Dax tapped her chest. “On my way. Dax out.” She hopped off the desk and checked the tricorder in her pouch. “Don’t worry, Benjamin. It won’t do us any good.”

  Sisko watched her hurry out of his office, through Ops to the nearest turbolift. “Take care of yourself, old man,” he said as the lift carried her away.

  And take care of Kira and the others.

  CHAPTER 3

  IN THE PASSENGER COMPARTMENT aboard the Amazon, Major Kira strode up and down before the assembled rescue team, looking each member over with a critical eye. If Sisko had any sense, she thought angrily, this would have been an all-Bajoran mission. She would have made a bigger fight for it if time hadn’t been so pressing. She couldn’t risk delaying any further; rescuing Ttan had to come first.

  The five Federation security officers, three male and two female, all human, kept their backs straight and their eyes focused on the bulkhead in front of them.

  Kira hid a private smile. My reputation precedes me, she thought with a trace of pride. If I said “boo” I think they’d die of heart attacks.

  She prided herself on maintaining a reputation as a tough-as-nails Bajoran officer. She did her best to reinforce that impression every chance she had, and this was no exception. If they came under fire, these men and women had to be ready to follow her orders without question or hesitation.

  She began to relate the events leading up to the Horta’s capture. As she did, her mind raced ahead to thoughts of actual combat against the Cardassians. She still had a lot of old scores to settle—even if she had to take an all-human security team to do it.

  At least Sisko had made some sensible choices in assigning members to the team. Ensigns Duane Wilkens and Ian Muckerheide had hair the color of copper. The pair made a good security team; Kira had seen them help Odo break up the brawls that invariably started at Quark’s Place. Ensign Delia Parks was blond, with her hair pulled in a tight bun behind her head. Another good choice, Kira thought. Parks was bright, ambitious, and could double as p
ilot or navigation officer, if necessary. Tall, pale Ensign Sven Jonsson had the creamy color of kaafa milk. He was all rippling sinew and speed: Kira had once seen him drag a pair of drunken Klingons off to the brig. Last but not least came Ensign Natalia Aponte, with her space-black hair and dark good looks. Ensign Aponte had always been something of an enigma to Kira. She always seemed to be watching everyone and everything around her, almost as though she expected something strange and out-of-place to happen. Sometimes it made Kira uneasy, but now she welcomed such watchfulness. Nobody would sneak up on them with Aponte on watch.

  Kira finished the briefing with, “Any questions?”

  “Sir,” Ensign Jonsson said.

  “What is it, Ensign?”

  “Shouldn’t we have environment suits?”

  Good question, Kira thought. “Dax?” she called. “I’ll let you answer that.”

  “No,” Dax called from the conn station, where she was running the last of the diagnostics. “Cardassian mining plants are almost always in M-class environments. Otherwise, they’re not cost-effective.”

  “What if they dropped Ttan off somewhere only a Horta could live?” Jonsson persisted.

  “Not bloody likely,” Kira said. “Cardassians are control freaks. To them, a Horta will be merely a new tool. Believe me, they’ll find a way to put her to use in one of their mines. Any other questions?”

  Nobody spoke up. Good; they were wasting time.

  “Strap yourselves in,” Kira said. She watched as they scrambled to do so.

  Turning, Kira stalked forward to where Dax, at the conn, had been running diagnostic tests. To make a bad situation worse, Kira thought, Bashir was watching over Dax’s shoulder and chattering about the excitement that lay ahead. If she had Bashir breathing down her neck the whole trip, she’d go crazy.

  “Major,” Dr. Bashir said. “Do you think we’ll face any real fighting?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of it,” Kira said. She turned to Dax and asked, “What’s our status?”

  “Everything checks,” Dax said. “Ops just cleared us for takeoff.”

  “Doctor?” Kira glanced at Bashir. “Are you ready?”

  He grinned and pointed to a small black bag on the floor beside him. “All I could possibly need. Thanks to Dr. Leonard McCoy’s pioneering medical research on the Hortas, I’m even prepared in case Ttan has been injured.”

  “Very well,” Kira said. “Take your seat with the others in the back. We lift off in one minute.”

  Kira cut Bashir off when he opened his mouth to protest. “That’s an order, Doctor.” The last thing she needed was him bouncing around the cabin while they left DS9.

  “It may be a bumpy flight again,” Dax added. “We’ll need you to keep an eye on the crew.”

  “Right!” Bashir said, brightening. He picked up his bag and headed aft.

  Dax said, “All humanoids have their foibles, Major.”

  For a second Kira wondered if Dax was telepathic, too. “Am I that obvious?” she asked. If so, I’m going to have to work on my professional look, she thought.

  “You hide it well. But yes.” Dax gave her a little smile.

  “Why do you … you know … encourage him?”

  “I must admit there is a part of my host that does find him … attractive.”

  “Attractive? That?”

  “Perhaps, if you got to know him better …”

  Kira snorted as several dull thuds reverberated through the runabout. It had to be the docking clamps being released, she thought. Leaning forward, she scanned the readouts before her. Engines were powered up; artificial gravity engaged; weapons systems active. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to ship-to-ship fighting; a Cardassian battle cruiser would blow them to atoms. No, they’d have to be fast in and fast out, she thought, like Sisko had said. She allowed herself a tight smile. And just like the old days, when she left there would be a few less slime-devil Cardassians to worry about.

  Kira activated the thrusters, nosing the runabout up and away from DS9 in a series of gentle surges that the artificial gravity couldn’t quite mask.

  “Docking ring cleared,” Dax said.

  Kira said, “Going to impulse power.” She watched the viewscreen as the runabout turned smartly and accelerated away from the space station. DS9 dwindled to a speck, then vanished. Still she accelerated. There was no telling what tortures they were putting Ttan through.

  “Heading one-nine-eight degrees, mark four,” Dax said.

  That’s where the Cardassians attacked the Puyallup, Kira realized after a second of mental calculations. “Why aren’t you setting a course for Xoxa?” she demanded.

  “Chief O’Brien had a better idea,” Dax said. “I didn’t have time to tell you. He recalibrated the Amazon’s sensors to pick up ionized particles caused by subspace distortion.”

  “You know the wormhole plays havoc with subspace—”

  “True. But I think we can get there quickly enough to pick up some residual traces. And the farther we get from the wormhole, the cleaner the trace we’ll find.”

  “It’s worth a shot, I suppose,” Kira said slowly. But I’d prefer it if you’d tell me first next time, she mentally added.

  “If it doesn’t work, we’ve only wasted half an hour. If it does …”

  “If it does,” Kira finished for her, “we’ve saved ourselves a lot of unnecessary worry … and possibly a huge mistake.” That’s what counts in the end, she thought.

  * * *

  Ttan felt a great nothingness all around. Her cilia spun helplessly; her sensory organs registered only the faintest traces of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide; she felt as though she were falling into a bottomless void. There were no familiar tastes of minerals, no comforting surfaces to burrow into.

  She tried to fight it, but the same panic that had overwhelmed her the first time she’d seen the sky over Janus VI struck her. She began to scream in terror, a high-pitched keening sound that went on and on and on. Her cilia whirled helplessly. Acid squirted uncontrolled from her glands.

  “Stop that, Horta!”

  With the voice came light, and the light revealed a huge cavern. Ttan found herself suspended halfway between floor and ceiling, spinning slowly in a counterclockwise direction. The walls of the cavern consisted of thick metal girders. The floor underfoot looked like sheet-metal plating … like the floors in the Federation ship that had been taking her to Bajor.

  Ttan managed to regain control of herself. Acids from her body had already begun to etch designs into the floor and wall plates, she saw with some embarrassment. Prime Mother, had she really lost control of herself like some day-old hatchling?

  She realized she had to be in another ship, this one without the concrete hold specifically designed to accommodate her. She was suspended in midair by some sort of tractor beam. That explained the sensation of falling, the lack of comforting surfaces into which she might burrow.

  “Creature!” the voice bellowed.

  Ttan managed to focus on the room’s other inhabitant: a humanoid wearing shiny black clothing with only its head, neck, and hands exposed. It stood in an open hatch regarding her. Its pale skin had a strangely corded look, as though thick ropes of muscle connected its small head to its body.

  “Creature!” it bellowed again. “Answer me!”

  “I am called Ttan,” Ttan said. The Universal Translator attached to her back spoke for her, adding an almost imperceptible tremble to her voice.

  “Ttan,” the humanoid said more softly. “You will listen to my instructions and obey them. I am Gul Mavek, and you are now a guest aboard my ship, the Dagger.”

  “Why have you done this?” Ttan demanded. “Where are you taking me? What has happened to my children?”

  “No questions, Ttan. We have some tasks for you to perform—very special tasks. If you do them well, you will be rewarded. If you cooperate, you may even gain your freedom … and the freedom of your children.”

  “Please, I must
know—!” Ttan began.

  But the humanoid had already stepped back. As the hatch rolled shut, darkness fell.

  Once more Ttan began to scream.

  CHAPTER 4

  BAJORANS, Sisko had privately concluded, could be distinguished from other humanoid races by the creases on their noses—and the chips on their shoulders. The deputy secretary for the Council on Ecological Controls, currently on the main viewer in Ops, was giving him no reason to change that opinion.

  “No! Absolutely not,” the deputy secretary declared, only his head and shoulders visible on the oval screen. A blond young man with perfectly groomed hair and blindingly white teeth, Pova had the self-righteous air of someone suddenly thrust into a position of power—and enjoying it far too much. “Under no circumstances are you to transfer the Horta eggs onto Bajoran soil.”

  “But, Secretary Pova,” Sisko said diplomatically, “it was my understanding that the Hortas had been invited to Bajor for the express purpose of mining below the planet’s surface.”

  “That enterprise,” Pova began, “was the work of a consortium of private individuals, who irresponsibly launched their reckless endeavor without securing the approval of the provisional government. Now that this unfortunate abduction has called the entire project to our attention, we cannot in good conscience stand by and allow alien life-forms to be introduced to our planet’s delicate ecology.”

  Sisko suppressed a weary sigh. He kept his back straight, his posture confident, despite this frustrating turn of events. He did not know whether the Bajoran officials had truly been unaware of the Horta mining project, but obviously the political tides had shifted for the time being, with the more conservative elements gaining power. This was not uncommon; the provisional government, established hastily after the Cardassians abandoned the planet, was a loose coalition of competing factions that seemed to change its policies every time there was a full moon. And Bajor had several moons….

  That political instability, he reminded himself, was one of the main reasons Starfleet was here in the first place. He considered calling Vedek Bareil, who was probably the Federation’s most influential friend on Bajor. But, unlike the departed Kai Opaka, Bareil’s power was limited—and his spiritual authority hardly granted him jurisdiction over mining policies.