CHAPTER
        1

"ON-SCREEN!" CAPTAIN DOLRAS snapped, lowering
himself into the command chair. He leaned forward
and stared at the main viewscreen. What was that
strange dark cloud?
    The other Klingons around him fell silent. None
of the gruff banter that normally broke the monoto-
ny of space travel now, Dolras thought, allowing
himself a mental nod. Yes, they were a good crew,
even if they had to serve aboard a military freighter
like the Toknor.
    Now, with only the electronic chatter of instru-
ment consoles and the soft, habitual ratcheting
sound of the crew's leather vestments breaking the
silence, Dolras looked to his left, to Lieutenant
Kotren. His science officer might be young, but
Dolras expected nothing less than excellence

trom hlm, and he expected it now. "Sensor up-
date!"
    Kotren stared at his screens, a puzzled look on his
face. He didn't know what was out there either,
Dolras realized. None of them had ever seen any-
thing like it.
    "We still lack positive readings," Kotren said. "I
am recalibrating the primary array."
    Disgruntled, Dolras turned his attention back to
the main viewscreen. The forward image showed
only a vague, hazy, clouded area of space with no
clear boundaries. Yet it showed up as an energy field
of some kind.
    "The anomaly continues to block our path," said
Thrann, Dolras's first officer, who had taken the
helm at his captain's request.
    Dolras squinted as he leaned forward, baring his
sharp teeth, privately savoring his own instinctive
reaction, that of a hunter considering his prey, a
warrior sizing up a possible foe. Space travel had
changed the Klingon heart very little, had not less-
ened the unfailing urge to embrace confrontation, to
accept challenge, Dolras thought. But he needed
more than instinct here. Passion alone would not
make the image or a proper course of action any
clearer.
    His mission was a simple one: survey a sector of
what the High Council considered non-Dominion
space in the Gamma Quadrant, collect sensor data
and geological samples, and then return to the Alpha
Quadrant. The risk lay in determining if the sector

truly was outside the Dominion's primary bound-
aries--which, as far as Dolras was concerned, had
proven to be the case.
    Several unknown vessels had dogged his trail from
time to time, but none had dared to challenge him.
In fact, except for the odd cloud, the mission had
been quite unremarkable. There had, however, been
one other exception.
    Two days ago the Toknor had encountered the
remains of a Karama ship--the Karama were a race
known to do business with the Jem'Hadar. The ship
had been almost completely destroyed, and there
was ample evidence to attribute its destruction to
extremely high-energy weapons fire. Since establish-
ing their recent presence in Cardassian space,
officers of the Klingon Empire had gathered a con-
siderable amount of intelligence on the Jem'Hadar.
While it was true that the Jem'Hadar possessed
formidable weapons, the Toknor's computer could
not attribute the Karama ship's destruction to any of
them.
    Two unknowns, Dolras thought, still observing the
second one. He didn't like it. Could there be a
connection?
    Dolras had stayed near the Karama ship as long as
he could, examining unremarkable long-range sen-
sor reports. Then he had moved on, deeper into the
Gamma Quadrant and farther away from Dominion
space, all the while wondering what was out there
waiting for them.

2                                                                   3

    So Iar he considered the mission a success because
it had resulted in a considerable store of new plane-
tary and even some cultural data of the kind that
could be analyzed to provide valuable trade and
military intelligence. And Klingon mission parame-
ters did not necessarily include the investigation of
space phenomena, which ordinarily was all well and
good to Dolras's mind. But this unidentified energy
field had been following his freighter ever since the
Toknor had left orbit around a small, rather unre-
markable planetoid roughly one-quarter light-year
back. Sometimes it was ahead of them, and some-
times it was behind. It almost seemed to be studying
them.
    At present the energy cloud lay dead ahead. But
not for long, if Dolras had anything to say about it.
    "Evasive maneuvers, Thrann," Dolras told his
first officer. "Maximum impulse." He would see
exactly what their little cloud did. Thrann quickly complied.
    Dolras watched as the ghostly patch of space,
some five hundred meters across, appeared to re-
main stationary in the viewer as the Toknor changed
course.
    "The field continues to pace us," Thrann re-
ported.
    Dolras frowned. "How far are we from the worm-
hole?" They were in no immediate jeopardy, as far
as he could tell, but this anomaly was becoming a
real concern.

"At warp six, two-point-one days," Thrann said.
That was nearly the maximum sustainable speed
for the Toknor, but Dolras knew he could squeeze
warp six-five out of her for at least two-point-one
days. And in any case, there was no reason to believe
the anomaly was capable of warp speeds. The Tok-
nor had been completing a sensor sweep, traveling at
three-quarters impulse since leaving the vicinity of
the planetold.
    "Bring us one hundred eighty degrees about,"
Dolras ordered. He watched closely as the anomaly
circled to the Toknor's stern. Good, he thought.
    "Set a direct course for the wormhole and prepare
to go to warp. But wait for my order." Dolras looked
up. "Kotren!" "Sir?"
 "Tell us something worthwhile!"
    His science officer turned, forehead ridges damp
with sweat, his expression intensely serious.
"I am still evaluating our data," Kotren said.
Our lack of data, Dolras thought. He knew Kotren
was giving his captain and crew everything he had.
Some years ago, Dolras would have censured the
young officer even so, but not now. Not yet, he told
himself. He had been in space for too many decades;
he preferred to save his energies for times that truly
required them. Whatever phenomena his ship had
encountered, it was clearly outside even the com-
puter's knowledge.
 Dolras steadied himselfi "This thing is playing a

4                                                                   5

game with us. I want to know more about it. Prepare
a sensor probe for launch. We will investigate this
energy field up close and find out why it insists on
following us."
  "At once!" Kotren said.
    "The probe data may make it possible for you to
determine the cloud's purpose," Dolras continued.
If it has one, he thought. But he suspected it did, and
he was intent on determining what that purpose was.
    "The probe is ready," Kotren announced a mo-
ment later.
  Dolras looked to the main viewer. "Launch!"
  "Probe launched," Kotren said.
    "On screen," Dolras said. The low-pitched ping of
the departing probe resounded through the ship, and
he watched the main viewer as the tiny machine
propelled itself across the narrow gulf between the
Toknor and its unwelcome shadow.
    "We're receiving specific telemetry and sensor
data," Kotren began.
    Dolras watched the probe vanish into the energy
field, almost as if it had been absorbed.
    "The field is chiefly composed of positively
charged plasma particles," Kotren continued. Then
he fell silent.
    "Continue!" Dolras demanded. He had to know
what was happening.
    "Sir, we have lost contact with the probe," Kotren
said. "I am attempting to reestablish--"
 "Then what is that?" Dolras snapped, leaping to

his feet. He jabbed his finger at the screen as the
proberathe same probe they had just launched--
exited the thin, cloudy anomaly and arced back
toward the Toknor. He took a step toward the screen.
    "I see it, Captain," Kotren replied, glancing fran-
tically from the screen to his consoles and back.
"But we are receiving no telemetry. The probe no
longer registers on our sensors."
    Dolras narrowed his eyes. It did not register? How
could that be? He could see it. "Turn it around and
send it back," he said evenly, sitting again.
    Kotren attempted to comply, then turned back to
his captain. "We still have no control over the
probe."
    "Thrann!" Dolras shouted. "Regain control of the
probe. If that is not possible, put a tractor beam on
it!"
    Dolras watched Thrann tap at his controls, then
shake his head. He worked again, and Dolras
watched the screen as the pale orange light of the
ship's tractor beam reached out and engulfed the
probe... and the probe passed through it.
    "I cannot explain it," Thrann said, his voice tense.
"The beam is having no effect. It is as if there is no
probe there to lock on to."
    "Then destroy the probe," Dolras said. He nod-
ded to himself. That would certainly solve the
problem. "Target disrupters."
    "Powering disrupters. Target acquired," Thrann
said.

6                                                7

  "Fire!"
    Dolras saw the beam strike out at the probe--and
pass straight through it with no apparent affect.
    As he noted the probe's course, Dolras needed no
instruments to tell him what would happen next.
"Shields up," he ordered. "Prepare for impact!"
    He braced himself as the probe arrived at the
Toknor, but instead of the expected impact and
explosion, the probe passed through the shields with
only a flicker of color, then continued into the ship
itself. No contact was felt.  "Report!"
    "No impact registered," Thrann said. "The probe
seems to have vanished."
    Dolras swore under his breath as he stared once
more at the anomaly--this strange curiosity that
was well on its way to becoming his most vexing
adversary. Still, the cloud seemed to present no
immediate danger of any kind, only an unsettling
mystery to be solved. He frowned. He didn't like
mysteries.
    "Close to within two hundred thousand kilome-
ters," he told Thrann. "Modify our forward disrupt-
er array to emit a diffused electrostatic charge,
reverse polarity."
    "That could disrupt the cloud's entire energy
field," Kotren said.
    "Or it could send that thing, whatever it is,
running for home. Either way there will be sparks
enough to see what it looks like with a light shining
on it."

    Thrann acknowledged Dolras's comment and
went about the task. A moment later he raised his
head. "Ready," he said.
    "Watch it closely, Lieutenant," Dolras told
Kotren. "This is our only chance to learn something.
Thrann, are we ready to go to warp?" "Yes, Captain."
 "Activate the disruptor array."
    Dolras leaned back, watching the main viewer, as
a bright red beam of electrostatic energy hit the
cloud. It began to seethe with movement. Yellows,
oranges, and pinks swirled this way and that. Dolras
gaped. It was beautiful, almost mesmerizing.
    Seconds later a blinding light burst from the
cloud. Dolras shielded his eyes while the computer
compensated for the increased brightness.
    "What was that?" he demanded of Kotren.
"Status!"
    Warning klaxons abruptly sounded. Dolras tried
to blink the white-hot spots from his eyes, to no
avail.
    "We are being bombarded with an intense wide-
spectrum radiation beam," Kotren replied. "Every
system on the ship is approaching overload status.
Recommend--"
    "Go to warp, Thrann!" Dolras shouted. "Engage,
engage!"
    "Coming about," Thrann reported, hastily ma-
nipulating the helm controls. "Engaging now."
    On the screen, the stars spun in a quarter circle,
then sprang back to became long, narrow lines of

light that seemed to stream away in all directions.
Dolras took a deep, calming breath. Perhaps the
disruptor array had been a mistake. But at least they
were safe now.
    "Captain," Thrann said after a moment, "the
energy field is pursuing us, matching speed and
course, continuing to accelerate."
    Dolras felt a hardness in his stomach. Warp
speeds, it seemed, were not an advantage.
    "I have it on aft visual," Kotren said. "The field
seems to be changing, taking on a distinct shape."
    "Put it on the main screen," Dolras told him.
"Maximum magnification."
    To his surprise the image that sprang into view
was nothing like the cloud. It had come together into
a vague blocky shape, and though it was indistinct,
he recognized the lines of a long hull and warp
engines.
  "A starship," Thrann said.
    "So it would appear," Dolras said. But who were
they? What did they want? "Identification?"
    "None yet," Thrann said. "Our sensors cannot
pick it up."
    "Impossible," Dolras scoffed, clenching one fist as
the frustration built within him. "I have never heard
of a cloaking device like this, but now that it is
down, we should be getting some readings."
    "Their technology must be well beyond our own,"
Thrann said grimly. "I recommend firing on it, with
or without a lock."

10

    "First, open hailing frequencies," Dolras said.
"Tell them to identify themselves and break off their
pursuit, or we will open fire. Thrann, prepare a
photon torpedo."
  Both officers did as they were told.
    "No response to our hails," Kotren said a minute
later.
  "Torpedo ready," Thrann said.
    Dolras closed one eye and fixed the other on the
dark object still following his freighter. He felt a
twinge of earned pleasure. Enough was enough.
"Fire torpedo," he said.  "Torpedo fired."
    "Tactical onscreen," Dolras said, and the desired
display filled the main viewer. He watched the
computer's representation of the torpedo as it trav-
ersed the distance between ships. It appeared to
strike the target precisely.
    "Direct hit," Thrann reported. "No detonation.
No effect."
    "How is that possible?" Dolras said, coming half-
way out of his seat, then lowing himself heavily back
down. He clutched the arms of his command chair.
  "The torpedo has vanished," Thrann replied.
  "Fire again! Fire at will!"
    Dolras watched a second torpedo track toward its
target as precisely as the first, followed by yet
another. Both quickly vanished, leaving their objec-
tive untouched.
 "Torpedo detected on course toward us," Thrann

announced, and Dolras heard the agitation in his
voice. Despite their training and seasoning, his crew
members had little actual combat experience. Still,
they were Klingons: they would perform their du-
ties, and he would do the same.
    "Divert as much power as possible to aft shieldsT"
he said. "Target incoming torpedo."
    "Enemy torpedo closing," Kotren announced.
"Configuration unknown. I am reading it as a high
energy plasma burst."
    "Fire!" Dolras ordered. If they could detonate the
enemy torpedo before it hit their ship, they would be
spared the worst of its effects.
    Thrann fired the Toknor's fourth torpedo. Dolras
tensed as it flew a brief intercept course and met the
incoming torpedo exactly.
 "No effect," Thrann said.
    Dolras sat back. No such thing was possible, and
yet...
 "Brace for impact," he said.
    As the words left the captain's mouth, the Toknor
heaved suddenly forward, then shook with a vio-
lence even he was not prepared for. The aft screen
went instantly white with brightness from the explo-
sion. Around him, power relays overloaded. The
bridge went dark, lit only by flashes and sparks from
instrument panels as numerous systems shorted out.
    Dolras held on to his chair, teeth bared, growling
deep in his throat, finding no words to express his
fury. Smoke filled his nose and throat. He watched
his Ops officer scramble to put out a fire that had

started near the science station. Blood and burn-
marks streaked the side of his face.
    Dolras forced his growl to become a speaking
voice. "Status!"
    "The impact of the plasma burst nearly collapsed
the aft shields," Thrann reported. "I am attempting
to compensate."
    Dolras rose and made his way across the bridge to
Thrann's station. The Toknor was already at warp
six-point-three, the fastest speed anyone could ex-
pect from such a ship. He watched the readout
change: warp six-point-four. His mission was to
return with the information and samples he had
spent so many months gathering--not a glorious
mission, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless.
He did not intend to fail.
    "Continue on course for the wormhole," Dolras
said. He tapped at the console's intercom control.
    "Engineering, I want everything you can give me,
do you hear? Warp seven would be a good start!"
    "Yes, sir!" came his chief engineer's resounding
reply.
    Good, Dolras thought. Someone knew how to
respond to an emergency.
    "When we reach the Alpha Quadrant, we can
arrange to rendezvous with a Klingon attack force,"
Dolras told Thrann privately. "Together we will
know victory, and we will finally learn who is behind
this."
 Thrann nodded.
 Dolras reached out and tapped the main controls,

removing the tactical display from the main screen
and restoring the external forward view. Then he
stood back, staring at the image in silence.
    "Captain?" Thrann asked, looking up, watching
his captain, "what are you looking for?"
    Dolras held steady for a moment, then he raised
one hand and placed it firmly on his first otficer's
shoulder. "Stars," he replied. "I wanted to see the
stars."

$

CHAPTER
        2

"A LITTLE MORE synthale," said Quark, DS9's Fer-
engi bar owner, as he hovered over Rom's shoulder.
    "Don't worry, brother, I followed your instruc-
tions exactly," Rom replied, sounding annoyed but
patient, at least so far, as he finished mixing the
batch of cloudy green punch.
    Someone has to worry, Quark thought with a
mental sigh. Rom had been given a week off from his
regular maintenance duties on the space station and
had agreed to help out at the bar for those few days,
just like old times. Already, though, Quark had
begun to regret the arrangement; there was nothing
worse than an employee who wasn't afraid of being
fired.
    "It's not that I think the Aulep are terribly picky,"
Quark explained, getting back to the subject at hand.

"In fact, they don't strike me as a very discriminat-
ing bunch at all. But I want everything to go right.
This is too good a deal to let it get fouled up by some
little detail, and I have a reputation for attention to
detail."
    "You do have a reputation, brother," Rom said
evenly.
 "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "I am only agreeing with you." Rom grinned as he
handed the pitcher over.
    Quark wrinkled his broad, grooved nose and
curled his upper lip back slightly, letting the pointed
tips of his uneven teeth show. "Well, spare me," he
said. He waved the punch under his nose, checking
the smell, then shrugged, flipped the lid shut, and set
the pitcher under the counter. He turned his back on
Rom, temporarily dismissing him.
    Slowly he glanced about the bar, sizing up the
crowd. Quark's Place was busy but relatively peace-
ful for now, which was just the way he liked it. And
as evening approached, it would only get busier. He
always looked forward to that, to long lines at the
Dabo tables and the holosuites and the bar itself, but
he felt especially good whenever a lucrative acquisi-
tion was at hand--and tomorrow there would be
one.
    The Aulep came from an unexplored part of the
Gamma Quadrant. A rather tall, thin, bony-faced
race with dark orange skin, sparse black hair, and
bright green-and-yellow clothes that seemed always

to clash with their bodies, they had been anything
but inconspicuous during their short stay on the
station a few weeks ago. But the visitors had pri-
vately expressed a pressing desire to begin trading
on this side of the wormhole--and trading, in
particular, with Quark.
    "We understand you are the one to see," Leth, the
chief Aulep representative, had explained after tak-
ing a seat in a quiet comer of the bar, away from the
other patrons.
    "Then you are an understanding people," Quark
had glibly replied, already able to smell the latinurn.
    "But is it true?" Leth had pressed, his long, bony
face getting longer. When Quark quickly assured
him it was, Leth had hinted at the broad strokes of
the Aulep's trading plans and their expectations
regarding Quark. But that was all. Quark had done
his best to strike a deal on the spot, but all the Aulep
would do in the end was agree to return in the weeks
ahead and talk some more.
"I'm ready right now!" Quark had insisted.
"Good," came the reply. Then Leth had gotten up
and wandered out onto the promenade, leaving
Quark to sit and imagine--which, when it came to
business dealings, was something he had always
been very good at.
    In fact, he'd been thinking about the Aulep's visit
until this very day, when the Aulep were scheduled
to return.
 "I'll be counting on you to help out while they're

here," Quark told Rom, as his brother moved back
down the bar, drawing near. "Do you think you can
handle that?"
    "Of course I can," Rom said resolutely. "Have I
ever failed you, brother?"
    "Don't start. This is serious. I've already begun
brokering a possible deal. I received a communique
from an Aulep representative only a few days ago."
    Rom seemed clearly intrigued. Quark let him,
enjoying the audience his brother provided, one he
had rather missed lately, though he would never
admit it. From all reports Rom was becoming a fine
technician, but Quark knew only too well that Rom
didn't share his brother's head for business, some-
thing Quark had never quite gotten used to. But in
part because of his lack of understanding, he usually
took an interest in Quark's dealings--the master at
work, a glimpse at greatness, that sort of thing.
Which was something Quark understood perfectly.
    Rom moved around the end of the bar and took a
seat directly across from Quark, then leaned closer.
"So what do they have to offer?"
    Quark lowered his voice. "Nothing unique. Just
natural and synthetic minerals, commercial mer-
chandise, the usual. It's the quantities I'm interested
in. What seems to interest them is a few clean deals.
It seems they have almost no gold-pressed latinum.
I, of course, do."
  "They need currency," Rom said.
    "Exactly. And I intend to supply it." Quark leaned
toward the nearer of his brother's very large rounded

ears and lowered his voice still further. "As I under-
stand it, the Aulep are willing to trade a cargo hold
full of trellium crystals for gold-pressed latinum at
an exchange rate of nearly two to one."
    Rom nearly gasped, but this quickly turned into a
conspiratorial snicker. Quark couldn't help but join
in.
 "Sounds almost too good to be true," Rom said.
 "I know," Quark said.
 "But what will you do with the crystals?"
    "Ahh, well," Quark said, waving one hand at
Rom, "that's the best part. As I was saying, I've
already contacted, urn, let's just say a special buyer,
who is quite interested to say the least. Everybody
wins, especially me."
Rom tipped his head in a congratulatory nod.
Quark and his brother had had their differences,
some of which could not be bridged, but Rom had
always given Quark credit where it was due, which
was what Quark liked about him. And Quark had
every intention of doing the same where Rom was
concerned... sooner or later.
    Quark let his gaze wander toward the entryway
just as Lieutenant Commander Worf came in. The
Klingon cut a striking figure. His long black hair,
pulled back in a ponytail, the stark Klingon forehead
ridges, and the trimmed black beard seemed to
complement the red and black of his Starfleet uni-
form. Klingons looked more natural in dark leather
and metal, Quark thought, though right now he was
glad there weren't any of the "natural" kind around.

19

Khngons had already proven to be more trouble to
Quark than they were worth as customers. They
were prone to violence, and it usually cost more to
clean up after them than they spent. Definitely not
good for business.
    Worf paused to scan the room, then sat down at
the far end of the bar. Alone.
    "So tell me everything about these Aulep, their
customs, th$ir secret weaknesses," Rom prodded,
apparently still intrigued by the depth and breadth
of the upcoming deal.
    Quark was less than eager to go into greater detail.
"Ah--there really isn't much to tell," he said.
    "What about their other trading partners? Have
you made contact with any of them?"
    Quark eyed Rom cautiously. He was almost too
interested, as if he was fishing for trouble. "I don't
know any of their other trading partners," Quark
said flatly, letting his irritation show in his voice.
"Not yet, anyway. They're from halfway across the
Gamma Quadrant, as I said."
    "I know that," Rom said. But he looked suddenly,
genuinely concerned as he stared at Quark.
    Quark did not enjoy the scrutiny. "What's the
matter?" he asked.
    "You don't know a thing about them, do you?" It
wasn't a question.
    "Well, not really," Quark admitted. "But I know
what I need to know. More than enough to start
dealing with them, and I'm a very fast learner."
 "But since these Aulep are not from our part of

the galaxy, you have no idea whether you can trust
them or what kinds of trading they are used to.
Suppose they require the ear of your closest relative
as part of the deal?"
    Quark's eyes widened. He couldn't tell if Rom was
joking. "Then I'd say you're lucky you have two
ears."
  "That's not very funny," Rom said.
  "Well, you're talking nonsense."
  "What I mean is, there are too many, um..."
      Rom seemed to be searching for a word. "Varia-
bles?" Quark suggested.  "Yes, exactly."
    Quark allowed himself an audible sigh. He knew
what he was doing, most of the time; he'd even
surprised himself now and again. Rom had appar-
ently lost sight of that. "Have a little faith in your big
brother, Rom. The truth is, I can make any deal
work."
    A commotion at the other end of the counter
called their attention. Worf had gotten up again, and
he was clearly displeased. He stared at the two
Ferengi, and it suddenly occurred to Quark that he
was simply looking for a little servicemand that he
probably shouldn't be kept waiting.
    "Go see to Worf's needs personally," Quark told
his brother, waving both hands at him, shooing him
along. "All he ever wants is prune juice anyway."
    A shout arose from the Dabo table. Quark
watched for a moment, then relaxed when he real-
ized it was just a Tosarian freighter crewman sud-

20                                                                  21

denly thrilled about his winnings... which, Quark
trusted, would not be too large. But this was the kind
of trouble he reveled in. Big winners tended to turn
into big spenders, loud partiers, and holosuite
junkies.
    He sat back and breathed in his bar's thickly
scented air, full of strange alien smells mixed with
the ever-present aroma of countless spilled drinks.
Yes, with a new deal in the making, it felt good to be
alive.
    The breath caught in his throat as Odo, the
station's shapeshifting security officer, cut between
patrons and headed straight for him.
    "Constable!" Quark said, grinning officiously at
Odo. "What can I do for you today?"
    "I'm a little troubled by some of what I just
overheard," Odo said. He sat down and tipped his
head to one side.
    Quark found his expression difficult to read.
Odo's smoothed-over features and slicked-back hair
lacked detail and authenticity, but they amounted to
the closest version of a humanoid Odo had so far
been able to accomplish. His appearance was almost
comical, but Quark had learned the hard way that
Odo wasn't usually joking.
    "Odo, didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't polite to
eavesdrop?"
    "Yes, they did, unless it happens to be part of your
job."
    "Well, don't let it trouble you another moment.
There isn't anything going on here that should

22

concern you. Just another lovely, busy day at
Quark's?'
    Odo's brow went up. "I think I'll decide for
myself, if you don't mind. Now, tell me all about this
deal you're setting up with the Aulep."
  "Aulep?"
  Odo nodded.
 "There isn't much to tell."
 "Tell me anyway."
    Quark had been in this sort of conversation be-
fore. He seldom won. This time, though, he felt that
he was on fairly solid ground. "It's a simple business
transaction--trellium crystals for latinum, which
the Aulep can get converted into whatever currency
they might need. I'm doing this station a favor, you
know. You should thank me. Captain Sisko has
encouraged me to trade with races from the Gamma
Quadrant, especially races outside the Dominion,
and that's exactly what I'm doing."
    Odo made a face that passed for scorn. "Perhaps,"
he said, "but I thought you said you don't know
anything about the Aulep--what sort of people they
are, who their enemies are, what their motives are,
little things like that."
    "And I don't have to." Quark grinned. "That's the
beauty of it. Rule of acquisition number--"
    "You might want to reconsider," Odo said, cutting
him off. "I remember the Aulep's initial visit here a
few weeks ago, including my security interview with
their leader. If you'd like, I can look it up for you in
my reports. As I recall, they didn't get along very

well here, even though they were only on the station
for a few days. Several station occupants filed com-
plaints against them. You filed one yourself. They
tried to cheat at the Dabo tables. You may recall
some of this. Stop me anytime."
    "Yes, yes," Quark replied, waving at the air be-
tween them as if the idea itself hung there. "A
minor... minor misunderstanding, as it turned
out. Once I explained the rules to them, they were
fine."
  "I don't believe you, Quark."
  "You never do."
  "And why is that?"
    Quark's mood soured at Odo's patronizing grin.
He sat crossing his thumbs, watching his customers.
Worf sipped the drink Rom had just brought him.
Garak, the station's resident Cardassian tailor, came
in from the promenade with Dr. Bashir. Quark
thought Garak and Bashir made an odd combina-
tion. Garak was one of the savviest beings Quark
had ever encountered, with a past in Cardassian
intelligence that would not bear close examination,
while Julian Bashir was a bright but somewhat less
initiated human with a past marked largely by
academic distinction.
    Unlike Cardassians and Klingons, Bashir and
Garak got along just fine. The brief war between
Cardassia and the Klingon Empire, and the Kling-
ons' continued presence in this sector, had created
problems for everyone. Yet the Cardassians looked
more like Klingons than humans; the distinctive

artery-bearing ropes of cartilage that fanned out on
either side of their necks was unique, but both races
possessed prominent head and facial ridges. Even
their governments were similar, each featuring a
long history of predominantly military rule. Never-
theless, it seemed almost no common ground existed
between the two races.
    Quark watched Garak and Bashir pass. They
greeted Worf without incident, as he had expected.
    Two Cardassian junior officers came in next, paus-
ing as they passed by Worf, raising caution in
Quark's mind. DS9 didn't get many Cardassian
visitors these days, only an occasional freighter or
scout ship, and many of them remained quite bitter
about the Klingons' attacks on their territories.
    Quark girded himself, already running a mental
tab of what the damages might come to should a
situation erupt. The sight of Worfs Starfleet uni-
form would likely help to subdue these unaccus-
tomed visitors, but one couldn't be sure. He watched
the two pause slowly behind the Klingon, where they
stopped.
    Worf turned and set his drink down. "Are you in
need of assistance?" he asked loudly and clearly,
civil but with a look that did not match his civil
words.
    "None," one of the Cardassian officers replied.
They glanced at one another, then back to Worf.
Quark tried to remind himself that Odo was stand-
ing right there, but he was relieved just the same
when the two young officers moved on.

24                                                               25

"Something troubling you, Quark?" Odo asked.
"Not a thing," Quark replied, letting himself
relax. He watched the Cardassians take seats at an
upper-level table.
    "They make you nervous, don't they?" Odo re-
marked.
    "No, of course not," Quark said. "Nothing to
worry about. Everything is under control. And it
won't be any different with the Aulep. You'll see."
    "Quark, exactly where in the Gamma Quadrant is
the Aulep's home planet?"
  "Nowhere near the Dominion. I asked."
    "I see," Odo said. "But do you have any coordi-
nates or regional data? And are you absolutely sure
the Dominion doesn't have designs on them?"
    "I know what I need to know, for now," Quark
said with a scowl. He didn't like the direction this
conversation was taking. "As for the Dominion, why
don't you go ask the Aulep?"
    "I just may do that, but you're missing my point.
You see, if I were going to do business with someone,
I'd at least want to find out where they lived and who
their enemies were."
    "You don't do business," Quark said smugly.
"You don't know the first thing about making a
profit. You've never understood it, and you never
will."
 "It that so?"
 "Yes."
    "I could read you the summary in my file report,
Quark, but what it says is that the Aulep's manner

26

and attitudes imply a level of greed, antipathy, and
general disregard for others that would make you
look absolutely philanthropic."
 "I'11 take that as a compliment."
    "Fine. Meanwhile, I trust you won't mind if I
learn more about them when they arrive, and before
you get yourself in too deep, I suggest you do the
same. You should listen to your brother, Quark. He
could be right; for all you know, you could be
laundering stolen goods."
    "Don't be ridiculous," Quark scoffed. "These
people seem legitimate enough to me."
    "Oh, well, that makes me feel much better," Odo
said dryly, rolling his eyes.
    "Well, it should. Like I said, it's a straightforward
business transaction. I know that much. The rest is
politics, and I try not to get involved in that. If you
don't like the Aulep's manners, get someone to
organize an etiquette class for them, but don't come
to me--unless you need the meeting catered."
  "Simple as that?" Odo said.
    "Precisely. There's no need to get all worked up
over everything that happens around here. Besides,
when business is good, I try not to ask too many
questions."
    "Yes," Odo said, smiling sidelong at Quark, "I'm
well aware of that."
  Quark let his scowl deepen.
    Rom came back and started fixing drinks for
another order. Quark instantly took the opportunity
to join him on the other side of the counter. "You'll

need a hand with those," he said, selecting two clean
glasses, setting them up.
  Rom looked up, surprised. "I will?"
  "Yes, you will."
 "Why, thank you, brother."
    Quark avoided Odo's gaze as he collected a tray.
"Don't mention it," he muttered.
 "Is anything wrong?" Rom asked Odo, pausing.
    Odo stood up. "No," he said, turning to leave,
"not yet."

CHAPTER
        3

CAPTAIN BENJAMIN SISKO, Federation commander of
DS9, sat motionless in his chair, elbows on his
desktop, dark-skinned fingers steepled just below his
chin, listening as Odo delivered his daily station
security status briefing: an Andorian had been
caught shoplifting on the Promenade; a Bajoran boy
had gone missing for several hours, only to be found
napping in one of the cargo bays; the crew of a
scientific research vessel had resisted Odo's initial
efforts to examine their delicate cargo until he
threatened to slap them all in quarantine--and
there had been two fistfights.
 Odo mentioned the Aulep last.
 "Yes," Sisko said, "I remember them."
 "What was your impression of them?"

    "They seemed innocuous enough, as far as I can
recall. Is there a problem?"
    Odo nodded. "Quark is apparently attempting to
orchestrate a trade agreement with them."
    Sisko let his chin bob on his fingertips. That
sounded fine. "I'm glad to hear it. That's one of the
reasons I like having him around."
    "Yes, but unfortunately he's going about it in
typical Ferengi fashion. He's completely in the dark
about these people, and so are we. They're due back
today. I just wanted to let you know."
    "I'm sure the trade agreement will be all right, but
keep an eye on them."
"I'11 do that," Odo said, sounding satisfied.
Good, Sisko thought, considering the matter suffi-
ciently tended to... for now. Odo was perhaps the
most capable security officer he had ever served
with, and his instincts were seldom wrong, which
made his concerns something not to be dismissed.
    "What were you telling me earlier about a fight
among the Ridorians?" Sisko asked.
    Odo breathed a tired sigh. "They walk everywhere
in a column, arranged according to height. A little
while ago, two of them got into a disagreement over
a centimeter." "I see."
    "Finally I offered to shorten one of them and
stretch the other."
    Sisko held back his chuckle. His comm badge
chirped before he could say anything else.

    "Kira to Captain Sisko," the voice of his Bajoran
first officer announced.
 Sisko tapped his badge. "Yes, Major."
    "Are you forgetting something, sir? Your son has
been waiting in one of the runabouts for almost an
hour now. I'm afraid he's going to start without
you."
    "Ah, yes," Sisko replied, raising his lean yet
considerable mass out of the chair. He usually had
too many things on his plate and never enough time
to get to them all, but it was a situation his son, like
his crew, were used to. "Thank you, Major. Tell him
~'11 be right there."
 "Yes, sir," Kira said.
    "I wasn't aware you and Jake were leaving the
station," Odo said. "I didn't mean to keep you."
    "Oh, we're not going anywhere in particular,"
Sisko said. "I haven't filed a flight plan."
    Odo looked puzzled. "Then why is Jake waiting in
a runabout?"
      "Because he wants what every boy his age has
wanted for hundreds of years."  "And what is that?"
    Sisko grinned as he came around his desk and
brushed past Odo. "He wants to learn how to drive."

    Sisko made his way straight to the runabout
landing pads, where he found his son Jake already
sitting at the controls of the Rio Grande, almost
bouncing in the seat. Sisko could hardly blame him.

As he had entered his mid-teens, Jake had grown
into as fine a young man as Sisko and his late wife,
Jennifer, could have hoped for. He was every bit his
father's son. Dark skin and hair, strong features,
gentle eyes, and a smile that always seemed to
work... even on his father. And Jake had compas-
sion, something Sisko thought might be as impor-
tant as a career with Starfleetmwhich was the one
thing he and Jake seemed at odds about.
    Of course, the Academy wasn't the only future,
not even for the son of a Starfleet captain. Although
Jake had stated his desire to explore a different path,
there remained the possibility of his one day attend-
ing Starfleet Academy. At least, Sisko liked to think
so. Right now, however, Jake was spending a lot of
time looking ahead, another consequence of his age,
and something Sisko was glad to encourage. Overall,
Jake's studies were going well, as was his writing; he
was revising a new story about a retired Starfleet
officer who teaches an alien culture to play base-
ball--Jake's favorite sport, as well as his father's.
Sisko had read a draft, and in his opinion, the
work was definitely improving.
    And at the moment Jake was most interested in
learning to pilot a runabout, or at least gaining
enough knowledge to allow him to bring one safely
home should his life come to depend on it... again.
    He'd been lucky the first time, but being stranded
in a disabled runabout on the other side of the
wormhole was not something Jake or his father
wanted to see happen again. Sisko had agreed that a

32

few lessons were probably a good idea. The only
problem was trying to make the time.
    "You look excited," Sisko remarked as he sat in
the left seat.
    Jake's broad grin was irrepressible. "Who
wouldn't be?" he said. "I finally get to do some-
thing."
    "There's plenty to do around the station," Sisko
said.
    "And all of it boring, compared to this, especially
with Nog away. A guy needs a little adventure once
in a while."
 "A little excitement," Sisko agreed.
 "Right. New challenges," Jake said.
 "Exactly!" Sisko grinned. "How's that chair feel?"
    Jake glanced nervously about. "Shouldn't I be in
it?"
    Sisko chuckled. "You can stay there, and I'U take
Ops. Eventually we can switch. We're going to have
to take this a step a time. Do you think you're
ready?"
 "You know I am."
    "I guess I do," Sisko said. He knew Jake had been
studying every system on the station's runabouts for
weeks now, learning all that he couldrathe kind of
knowledge one needed to man the Ops station, in
particular, though he had studied conn as well. And
he had spent considerable time in a specially pro-
gramed holosuite flight simulation, which had gone
a long way toward making a good classroom pilot
out of him. Sisko didn't doubt his son's basic

readiness to sit in either chair, and despite some
nervousness, Jake seemed confident enough. But
this was the moment that mattered. Some things
were best learned by doing. Hands-on. Trial-and-
error.
    "You know what you always say," Jake said,
turning slightly to face the main control panel,
touching lighted pads to bring some of the run-
about's main systems online. "Learning is con-
stant."
  "Do I say that?"
  Jake just smiled at his father.
    Sisko tipped his head to one side, playing along.
"What else do I say?"
  "You say that reason we're out here is to learn."
  "Do I?"
  Jake nodded.
    Sisko knew he had given that speech often enough:
live and learn--or was it the other way around?
That was why human beings were in spaceinto seek,
to explore, to discover. And that was why Jake was
sitting in the pilot seat of a runabout.
    Sisko opened a channel. "Rio Grande to Ops,
we're ready for departure," he said, checking com-
munications as he did so. Jake was busy running his
own systems checks and doing a fine job so far.
    "You're cleared," Major Kira replied. "Outer sys-
tem flight path logged. Good luck, and have fun."
    "Thank you, Major." Sisko glanced to his right.
He found Jake looking back at him and saw what he
thought was just the right balance of anxiety, confi-
dence, and pure enthusiasm in the boy's bright eyes.

34

Sisko let a gentle smile find his lips. "I believe we'll
have plenty of both."
 Jake waited patiently, a runner at the starting line.
 "Go ahead," Sisko said. "Take her out."
    The engines hummed as the runabout lifted off the
landing pad on DS9's habitat ring. Jake was obvi-
ously tense, but he managed to get the ship away and
clear of the station smoothly enough.
    "Now you're going to ease the power up," Sisko
said. "First, what's your heading?"
Jake glanced down. "Zero zero zero mark five."
"Good. Now get us up to speed, but watch the
power balance. The computer should keep the en-
gines aligned, but you'll want to keep an eye on it."
  "I know," Jake said.
  "Good."
    Jake accelerated to one-quarter impulse. He kept
their course steady. Sisko watched with satisfaction
as Jake concentrated intensely on the glowing blue,
white, and crimson readings displayed at his finger-
tips. At eighty kilometers out from Bajor they passed
through the Denorius asteroid belt, and Sisko
watched with ever increasing pride as Jake gently
wove a path through the loose assortment of rocks
and boulders.
    Then, in the void between the Bajoran system's
fourth and fifth planets, Sisko sat back. "Why don't
you try to experiment a little?" he said. "Have some
fun with it!" He gave Jake an encouraging nod.
    He gulped when the ship lurched under them as
Jake attempted his first free turn, working the inertia

 dampeners a little too hard, but the second try went
 much more smoothly, and Sisko forced himself to
 relax.
    The system's largest gas giant lay just ahead. Jake
seemed to take the huge gravity-well in stride, ad-
justing course as the computer lit the appropriate
navigation display. Though Jake grew noticeably
more nervous as the pull of the multicolored Jupiter-
like world made itself known, Sisko let him meet the
challenge, remaining a simple observer. He heard
Jake breathe a sigh as the enormous planet passed by
without incident.
    Sisko didn't say a word. Not bad, he thought to
himself.
    "I'm going to put her through a few rolls and
spirals," Jake said, straight~faced.
    Sisko looked at him, and as he expected, Jake
broke into a chuckle.
    "Maybe next time," Sisko said, shaking his head.
Cute, he thought. "We don't want you getting car-
ried away. I'd say you've done your homework,
though. We'll have you flying at warp speeds in no
time."
    "Thanks, but for now I'll be happy when I can do
this part a little better."
  "Uh-huh. And I think I know why."
    Jake's eyes stayed with the controls. "What do you
mean?"
    "I was just thinking about a certain recent Ba-
joran visitor, a gift by the name of... Elliena, isn't
it?"

    Jake remained silent. That silence, Sisko thought,
spoke volumes. The girl was about Jake's age, bright,
attractive, the daughter of a Bajoran diplomat who
represented the planet's Natural Resource Council.
DS9 had been helping the Bajorans coordinate a
planet-wide studying to determine fully what shape
Bajor was really in, following the long ecologically
and geologically devastating Cardassian occupation.
The consul, his wife, and their daughter had been to
the station several times in the past two months,
giving Jake and Elliena more than enough time to
get to know each other pretty well. Fine people, all
of them, Sisko had decided. And more than wel-
come.
    "You're not getting serious about Elliena, are
you?" Sisko asked, pressing a little.
    Jake squirmed. "Maybe. I don't know. It depends
on what you mean by 'serious'?"
    "Oh, I don't know exactly, but if you start making
plans to attend whatever Bajoran university she's
planning to attend, I hope you'll let me know."
    Jake looked up, a glow on his face. "Okay, I will.
But for now I'd just like to wait and see what
happens, and maybe take her out for a firsthand look
at her own solar system." He nodded toward the
window. "She's never seen any of this for herself."
    "Take Elliena on a flight?" Sisko said, raising his
eyebrows at the boy. "Just the two of you?" That
sounded rather romantic, actually.
  "Once I'm approved, of course," Jake added.

      "Of course. And I'd say all you need is a little
 practice. Actually, you're doing fine."  "I hope I do as well with Elliena."
     Sisko chuckled. He was just getting used to having
 a son who was dating. He and Jake both had a lot to
 learn, but that would never change.
    He focused once more on the control console.
"Let's see if you can bring her around to mark
fifteen," he said. He watched his son execute the
course correction exactly, then said, "You know,
Jake, it sounds as if you think that women are a lot
harder to handle than runabouts."
  "I didn't mean that, exactly."
  "I know."
    A comet came into view to port. Sisko made
mention of it, but Jake seemed to spot it at the same
time. He paced the comet for a time, then, at Sisko's
urging, changed to a course that would allow them to
pass through its tail. As the runabout drew nearer, it
encountered the comet's slight gravitational pull. Ice
and dust particles swirled about them, just beyond
the ship's twin observation windows. Jake worked at
the controls to smooth their course and acceleration
again.
    "You're thinking about a lot more than just sight-
seeing, aren't you?" Sisko said, watching Jake as the
runabout continued on its way.
    Jake nodded. "Elliena would love to see this, don't
you think?" he said, as he looked out into the
comet's tail.
 "Yes, I do."

    "I'd be glad to help you in any way I can," Sisko.
said. "That is, if you want me to. But if you're
anything like me, most of what I tell you is going to
go in one ear and out the other. The truth is, like
piloting, relationships are an area where experience
is one of the best teachers."
 Jake sighed, then added a grin. "Don't I know it!"
     The shuttle's comm chirped, followed by the voice
of Lieutenant Commander Worf. "Go ahead," Sisko answered.
    "Captain, you asked to be informed when the
Aulep arrived. They have just come through the
wormhole and are maneuvering into docking posi-
tion now."
 "Thank you."
    "Captain," Worf added, "the Aulep are asking to
speak with you as soon as possible. They insist I
inform them as to where and when that will be.
Flenn, their mission commander, says the matter is
quite urgent."
  "What matter is that?"
    "Unclear. He indicated an interest in establishing
better relations with the Federation. Nothing more."
    "Doesn't sound all that urgent," Jake commented,
keeping his voice just above a whisper.
    "No, it does not," Worf answered, his tone imply-
ing a certain level of annoyance with the subject.
    Sisko gathered from this that the Aulep had al-
ready managed to leave a mixed impression. Still, he
would keep an open mind. After all, most people
had good reasons for acting the way they did. He

doubted the Aulep's situation was unusual, but
sometimes, he thought, looking at Jake, even little
things could seem much more important to one
person than they did to others.
    In any case, he wasn't in a position to take
anything or anyone associated with the Gamma
Quadrant less than seriously.
    "Very well. Tell him something will be arranged as
soon as I return. Sisko out." He turned to Jake. The
lesson was about to be cut short, and there was
nothing he could do about it. It was the sort of thing
that happened too often between them, but Sisko
was getting better at making it up to Jake, and he
thought Jake was getting better at understanding
why it happened.
  "Think you can take us home?" he asked.
  Jake nodded. "Yes, sir."
    "We'll make time for another lesson soon, I prom-
ise." He put his hand on Jake's shoulder.
    "I know." Raising his hand, Jake gripped his
father's fingers briefly, then he returned his attention
to the console.
    Sisko watched Jake take the runabout through a
slow turn out in the middle of nowhere. They had
been here before, he realized, in a hand-built Ba-
joran light-sail spacecraft, and in the process they
had repeated a piece of history, discovering the truth
in the ancient Bajoran legends.
    "Steady as she goes," Sisko said, as the Rio Grande
straightened and began its trek home.

0

CHAPTER
       4

SISKO FOUND mm~E visitors waiting for him in his
office when he arrived back at DS9. The Aulep
greeted him with smiles that looked strikingly hu-
manoid. They were a bit short, none more than five
feet tall, and their orange skin and garish clothing
hurt Sisko's eyes almost as much as they offended
his fashion sense. Were the Aulep color-blind?
    One of the three stepped forward and extended a
small but thickly boned hand. Sisko took the hand
and shook it firmly. The alien's grip was strong, but
the flesh was smooth. And what was that sweet,
almost perfumelike odor?
    Odo stood silently by, keeping them company.
Sisko exchanged glances with his security chief,
found solidarity in the other's eyes, then turned his
full attention to the Aulep.

"I'm Captain Sisko. Welcome to Deep Space
Nine."
    "Flenn," the other said. "I am fascinated by this
custom of yours."
    Sisko decided Flenn meant the handshake. "It's
an old one."
    "Intended to assure others that you hold no weap-
ons, I assume," Flenn suggested.
    "I suppose that might have something to do with
it."
    "Quite sensible, I think," Flenn said. "There are
many things about this station, and about Starfleet,
which impress me already, and I have only a little
knowledge. Of course with your help, that will
change."
"I intend to be as helpful as possible," Sisko said.
"Then the future looks bright, wouldn't you
agree?"
    "Most of the time," Sisko said, sensing a need for
increased caution, finding the Aulep's manner per-
haps too ingratiating.
    Up close, the Aulep had a rather leathery com-
plexion, accented by a darkening of the skin along
their broad cheekbones, their prominent chins, and
the ridge where human eyebrows would have been.
The eyes themselves, deep red and unblinking, glis-
tened with moisture and at first gave an impression
of innocence. Sisko remembered this from his brief
meeting with these same Aulep some time ago. He
reminded himself how deceptive visual impressions
could be.

    Sisko sat on the front corner of his desk. "I
understand you want to talk about diplomatic rela-
tions. What sort of arrangements do you have in
mind?"
    "To begin with," Flenn said, "we are interested in
forming a limited alliance."
    "And why is that?" Odo asked. He glanced at
Sisko, as if to ask belated permission to speak. Sisko
nodded once.
 "We have many reasons," Flenn replied.
    "Of course you do," Odo said, looking to Sisko
again.
    "Which are?" Sisko sensed that the answer might
be harder to get at than expected.
     "Do you want me to list them?" Flenn asked,
losing just a bit of his amiable manner. "That would be fine," Odo said.
    "I came to speak with Captain Sisko," Flenn said,
turning away from Odo and folding his arms.
    Sisko's brow went up. The Aulep clearly had
secrets. "I see. But Odo makes a valid point. It will
be necessary for us to learn a good deal more about
you and your people, your history, your culture,
your neighbors--and for you in turn to learn about
the Federation--before we get to that stage. Are you
at war?"
    "At war?" Flenn said, making a tight face. "Cer-
tainly not."
  "Are you planning to be?" Odo asked.
    "No," Flenn said instantly. "You speak as if we
were part of some offensive armada."

  "And why would we think that?" Sisko asked.
    "We understand your concern, of course," Flenn
said, "but you needn't worry."
    Sisko was beginning to see something of an eva-
sive pattern in Flenn's responses. "You know, we
have no idea exactly where you're from," he said.
    "A distant sector of the Gamma Quadrant,"
Flenn replied. "I thought that had been established.
It makes little difference at the moment."
    "It might," Sisko said. "You see, I was thinking in
terms of coordinates."
    Flenn glanced at both his companions, who said
nothing but seemed to communicate on some level
all the same. Sisko had the feeling this was not
uncommon.
    "Captain," Flenn said, "any information you de-
sire will eventually be given. But for now we do not
need the coordinates of your Earth in order to meet
or negotiate with you; we do not require the Federa-
tion's historical or cultural r6sum6 or your own
personal history. Most of that, we believe, is your
business. And we trust that as information is re-
quired, you will supply it."
"That is a very pragmatic approach," Sisko said.
"Thank you. We are interested in the present and,
most importantly, in the future. No disrespect is
intended, Captain, but is such an approach beyond
your abilities?"
    Odo opened his mouth to respond, but Sisko held
one hand up, staying the words. He turned and
stared at Flenn, silent, unblinking, considering the

other's words. He watched Flenn's big red eyes;
somehow they didn't seem nearly so innocuous now.
In fact, the longer he and Flenn stood staring at each
other, the more nervous the alien seemed to get, as if
he'd placed a bet and was waiting for the wheel of
chance to stop its spin.
    "That's just it," Sisko finally said, "you never
really know."
    Flenn seemed to stumble over this, though he said
nothing. Sisko decided to treat Flenn's last question
as an honest one and not sarcasm.
    "However," he went on, "I think we can probably
get started."
Flenn blinked several times. "Good. Very good."
The mood in the office seemed to soften. Sisko
went around behind his deck and sat down. He
motioned the Aulep to chairs on either side of him
and Odo, but the visitor seemed content to stand.
  "What would you suggest?" Sisko asked.
    "I've given that much thought," Flenn replied,
apparently pleased to have the meeting back on
track. "Perhaps you would agree to join us for
dinner aboard our ship--say, in an hour. We can
discuss this at greater length. Your trade ambassador
has already agreed to be there. I'm sure the meeting
will be productive."
    Sisko cocked his head. "Our... trade ambas-
sador?"
  Flenn nodded. "Yes, Ambassador Quark."
    "All, yes, of course. Ambassador Quark." Sisko
shook his head, then did his best to contain a snicker

as he glanced to one side and encountered Odo's
scowl. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I wouldn't
miss it."

    Sisko stepped off DS9's docking ring and into the
Aulep vessel a few minutes late, only to learn that
Quark would apparently be later still. The Aulep
commander seemed to take this all in stride. Sisko
followed Flenn and his two companions down sever-
al dark, narrow corridors, until they emerged sud-
denly into brightness.
    The dining quarters aboard Flenn's ship were
magnificent, and tinged with the sweet perfume-like
smell of the Aulep themselves, mixed with the
promising aroma of unseen foods.
    Rich, lavishly embroidered tapestries covered the
ceiling, while the walls were done in finely detailed
murals, most depicting a much greater banquet hall.
Dozens of extravagantly dressed Aulep had been
painted into the scenes, all of them enjoying a
bountiful feast. The painting, combined with the
rich aroma of whatever was cooking nearby, made
Sisko feel as if he were actually there himself, in the
mural, about to participate in the feast.
    Highly polished golden rails ran throughout the
room, all firmly affixed to the walls and deck; the
center rail passed by the main table.
    "Beautiful, aren't they?" Flenn said, apparently
noticing Sisko's stare. He placed one stout little
hand on the rail nearest him. "A holdover from an

earlier time. An elegant means of getting around or
steadying oneself, from before the modern age of
artificial gravity and inertia dampeners."
    "You keep them as part of a tradition, then,"
Sisko said.
    "More or less. There is no longer a need for them,
which is why they are considered fashionable, of
course."
 "Vanity," Sisko said.
 "Yes," Flenn said without hesitation.
    Sisko nodded understanding as he continued to
look around.
    The table itself was pure white. Under its glasslike
surface clouds of light-colored mist swirled about,
the whole thing reminding Sisko of a piece from a
giant crystal ball.
 "You must do very well, economically."
    "I assure you we do," Flenn said, grinning. Then,
apparently sensing the seriousness of Sisko's mood,
he asked, "Does this concern you?"
    "Not necessarily. Tell me, do all your people share
in that wealth, or is it reserved for a select few, as
you?"
    "Many are well off, some are not--as in any other
universe. The division of wealth will always be
unequal, certainly. I'm sure it is no different on your
world."
    "That is something we ought to talk about. Many
worlds in the Federation have overcome that
problem."

    Flenn stared at Sisko for a moment, straight-
faced, then a hint of the smile returned. "Ah! You
are joking. I understand."  "I wasn't joking."
    Flenn's expression soured abruptly, bringing
darker coloring to the raised, already darkened areas
of his face. Sisko watched him glance briefly at his
two companions again, then turn back. "In that ease,
you are apparently talking in circles. Testing us
somehow. Which means you are trying to spoil this
pleasant occasion, I think, and for no clear reason.
Am I mistaken?"
    "I assure you that I mean no insult, and I make no
judgments. I'm simply stating a fact."
    They eyed each other for a moment, and Sisko
sensed the tension was not so great as it had seemed.
The Aulep were easily incensed, but their ire ran
shallow.
    "Perhaps we do need to clarify a few points,"
Flenn said.
    'Tll be honest," Sisko told him. "I tend to have
certain personal reservations about anyone who
regards status and pretense too highly. However,
that does not mean we can't make considerable
progress in planning future Federation-Aulep rela-
tions. I can certainly see why you and Quark have
been able to get along, though. The Ferengi are as
acquisitive a species as I have ever encountered."
    "We were under the impression that most Federa-
tion races were like the Ferengi," Flenn said.

 That doesn't surprise me in the least, Sisko
thought. He cleared his throat, but held his tongue.
  "I trust I haven't missed anything? Quark said as
  he hurriedly entered the room, practically on cue.
    "We were just discussing how well suited you are
to working with the Aulep," Sisko said. "In fact, I'm
thinking of asking you to volunteer your services as
official liaison between Deep Space Nine and the
Aulep people... uh, Mr. Ambassador."
    Sisko held Quark's gaze. The Ferengi hardly
skipped a beat. "I--I'd be honored, of course,
Captain," he said. "It's the least I can do."
    "Good. I'll let the two of you start discussing your
trade interests soon. But in the interest of clarifica-
tion, the three of us should spend some time discuss-
ing Aulep culture, as well as some of the Federation's
more prominent races--just to get to know each
other. Nothing you don't feel comfortable with, of
course. And perhaps you will tell me about your
goals. You are interested in more than trade, I
assume."
    "That is true, Captain," Flenn said, falling in line
now and easily keeping pace. "We would like to
enter into a formal arrangement with your Federa-
tion. A limited alliance. One that we believe might
ultimately benefit many worlds on both sides of the
wormhole."
    "That is an admirable purpose, but I have to
wonder exactly why such an alliance is important to
you."

"We like to do business with friends."
"Speaking of friends," Sisko said, "how would
such an arrangement affect your relations with other
races in the Gamma Quadrant?"
    "You needn't be concerned about that," Flenn
said hastily and rather flatly.
  Sisko looked at him. "No?"
  "No."
    "Tell me, is the Dominion a threat to you?" Sisko
asked outright.
    "No," Flenn said again, clearly growing agitated.
"Fortunately, they are a long way off."
    Sisko still didn't have the information he was
after. "Then tell me, exactly how far is 'a long way
off'?"
    "Oh, Captain, you're always worried about what
the neighbors will think," Quark said, stepping
between them. He turned to Flenn. "He's like that.
All hu-mans are. You get used to it." Quark slapped
his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "I think
we should move on."
"Of course," Flenn said. "Let's eat, shall we?"
Two more Aulep, one of them female, entered the
dining room carrying large polished trays laden with
steaming bowls. The aroma reminded Sisko of
stewed tomatoes.
    "I do a little cooking myself," Sisko said as Flenn
led the way to the table.
    "Let me know what you like, and we'll see that
you get the recipes," Flenn said as he showed Sisko
to a well-padded chair. The first bowls contained

some kind of soup, a light brownish broth rich with
chunks of unfamiliar but tender vegetables. Sisko
leaned forward and sniffed, savoring the smell and
the moist warmth of the steam rising to his face. He
really was hungry.
     Before he could reach for his spoon, however, his
comm badge chirped. "Kira to Sisko."
    DS9's Bajoran first officer was on duty in Ops; she
knew Sisko was having dinner with their visitors and
that he didn't want to be interrupted, so he was
fairly certain whatever she wanted wouldn't bring a
smile to his face.
  "Go ahead, Major," he said.
    "An unidentified vessel just came through the
wormhole. Their weapons systems are powered up,
and they're not answering our hails."
"Go to yellow alert. What's their bearing?"
"They appear to be heading for Deep Space Nine."
"Mr. Worf," Sisko said, "raise the shields and be
sure to extend them to protect all ships docked at the
station."
    "We already have," Worf said, his deep voice a
sudden contrast to Kira's.
    Sisko felt his appetite vanish. "Mr. Worf, what is
their capability?"
    "Their weapons appear formidable enough to
present a threat, Captain."
    "Very well, arm our weapons," Sisko told the
Klingon.

51

    "Weapons armed," Worf said a moment later. "I
am reading their shields at maximum."
    "I have them on visual," Kira said. "And,
Captain..."
  "What is it, Major?"
    "This ship is slightly smaller than the Aulep vessel
you are now aboard, but it's similar in design."
    Sisko looked at Flenn, narrowing his eyes. "How
similar?" he asked.
  "Nearly identical," Worf answered for her.
    "Stand by." Sisko fixed Flenn with a hard stare.
"Friends of yours?"
    "Captain," Flenn said, wearing his virtuous ex-
pression again, "I assure you, I have no idea--"
    "I don't need that kind of assurance. I need to
know what's going on."
    "Captain," Kira interrupted, "the new arrival is
hailing the Aulep ship, but there has been no re-
sponse so far."
    "Is something wrong with your communications
system?" Sisko asked accusingly.
    "Not that I know of," Flenn said, waving to one of
the other Aulep, who got up instantly and left the
dining room. "But I ask you, Captain, would it be
prudent to respond to someone when we don't know
who that someone is?"
    "Why shouldn't you, unless you aren't telling me
the whole truth?"
 "We have done nothing, Captain."
 Sisko leaned toward Flenn, who was seated on his

right. "Other than suggest an alliance with the
Federation. But an alliance against whom, I now
wonder?"
 "Captain, you have no right to assumere"
    "I'm sure I do," Sisko boomed, less than gracious
now. He didn't like being played for a fool. "What
were you saying about not being at war with
anyone?"
    "It was the truth!" Flenn was doing his best to
look wounded.
    Sisko wasn't buying it. "Take us to your
bridge."
    "That is not possible just now, Captain," Flenn
said, sounding almost as if he was in pain. "We are
not ready to allow you into sensitive areas."
  "We've allowed you into ours."
  "As is your prerogative, of course."
    "Then," Sisko said, measuring his tone, "take us
to your observation deck. Unless you have a prob-
lem with that."
    "Very well. This way." Flenn headed for the door
with suddenly heavy feet.
    "Shall I wait here?" Quark asked, a look of
nervous innocence on his facema look he was
uniquely good at.
  "Not a chance," Sisko said.
    Flenn led the way back out into the dark corridors
while Sisko and Quark followed. The walk was a
short one and ended in a plain gray-walled room half
the size of the one they had just left. Flenn touched a

52                                                                     53

 button and the wall ahead of them became trans-
 parent.
    Sisko found himself gazing out into space, past the
leading edge of the nearest of DS9's tall, arching
docking pylons, toward the dark region of space
where the wormhole lay. The unidentified vessel
hung in space, silent and stationary now, only a few
thousand kilometers awaymwaiting for something,
it seemed. A stout cylindrical ship several times the
size of a runabout, with a wide wedge-shaped struc-
ture dominating the top, it had two long tubes
underneath that curved back around the tail and
ultimately joined the wedge.
    Indeed, Sisko thought, the ship looked almost
precisely like Flenn's. He tapped his comm badge
again. "Any luck hailing them?" he asked.
  "None," Kira said.
    "Keep trying. I don't want a firefight at such close
range. There are too many ships around the docking
ring. I'm trying to get some answers on this end.
Sisko out."
  He turned to face the others.
    "I swear I don't know a thing!" Quark quickly
assured the captain as their eyes met.
  "Well, somebody must," Sisko said.
    "In our region of space, there are many ships
similar to ours, Captain," Flenn said. "We can't
know the mind of every--"
    "Captain," Worf interrupted, "the intruder is now
targeting the ship you are on."

    "Very well, Flenn," Sisko said sternly, stepping
closer to his host, bending slightly, leaving only a few
centimeters of space between the two of them. He
pointed toward the ship beyond the viewport. "I am
running out of patience. For the last time, who are
they, and what do they want?"

CHAPTER
       5

"WE REALLY DON'T know who they are--at least, not
exactly," Flenn hedged, obviously growing uneasy.
    Sisko wasn't in the mood. Not when his station
was being threatened. He was more than a head
taller than the Aulep, and as he loomed over Flenn,
he used every bit of his height and mass to intimi-
date the mission commander.
  "Explain 'not exactly,'" he demanded.
    Flenn looked to Quark, but the Ferengi only gave
the Aulep commander a shrug in return. Sisko found
the brief exchange most interesting.
    "Captain," Worf's voice said from Sisko's corem
badge, "the alien vessel is firing."
    Worf's words were followed by a heavy, booming
shudder that resonated through the docking ring,
then through the hull of the Aulep ship. Sisko looked

out through the observation wall in time to see two
more bright greenish white flashes erupt from the
unidentified ship. He felt both impacts just as a
series of bright, lingering flashes lit up the space
between them. The intruder might be well armed,
but DS9 was better protected.
 "Shields holding, down seven percent," Worf said.
     "Captain," Kira's voice said, "they appear to be
firing directly at the Aulep ship." "Confirmed," Worf said.
    "They must realize we have shields in place,"
Sisko replied.
    "The attack appears designed to weaken the
shields around the Aulep vessel."
    "Captain," Worf said, "I recommend we get you
out of there immediately."
    Sisko felt inclined to agree as another series of
flashes caught his eye. The station's shields lit up
with sparkling colors as the last burst was dispersed,
but the kinetic energy of the blasts made the walls
rattle and the deck shake hard enough to upset his
balance.
  A brief silence followed.
    "They've ceased firing," Worf reported. "Sir, I
believe they are recharging their weapons for the
next attack. Request permission to return fire."
     "Hold off." He needed a minute to think, and
 since the station didn't seem to be in immediate
 danger, he intended to take it. No sense rushing into
 something he might later regret.

    Slowly he turned. He wasn't through with Flenn
just yet.
     "Do you still have an open channel to the attack-
 ing ship?" he asked.
"Yes," Kira said, "but there's no response."
"Let's assume they're listening. Tell them that if
they do not end this attack, we will be forced to
retaliate. They may not realize how well armed we
are. If there's no change, you're authorized to fire a
warning shot, but hold direct fire until I give the
order. Meanwhile, keep me informed."
    Flenn stood with his hands folded, a look of mild
surprise on his darkened orange features. "Captain,
I know how this looks, but I can see you are a man of
restraint, intuition, and compassion. I would like to
thank you--"
    "You would be in the middle of a dogfight in open
space right now if it were not for Deep Space Nine/"
Sisko snapped, his voice hard. "You might even be
dead. Think about that."
    "Captain, I take exception to your tone," Flenn
said, indignant. "And in any case, we are quite
capable of defending ourselves."
    "You might yet have the opportunity to do just
that, because if I don't start getting some honest
answers out of you, I will ask you and your ship to
leave this station, for safety purposes. Our safety,
not yours."
    "I protest, Captain!" Flenn said, souring further.
"We are the victims here, just as you are."

 "Why don't we ask your attackers about that?"
    "The intruder's weapons are fully powered
again," Worf informed Sisko.
    "We should take Worf's advice and evacuate this
ship," Quark said nervously. "After all, we aren't
accomplishing anything."
    Sisko stopped Quark with a cold stare. "No one is
going anywhere until I find out who is shooting at us
and why."
    Another series of shots struck in rapid succession,
illuminating the shields with a blinding brightness
once more. With the last volley the Aulep ship
suddenly bucked, then shuddered. Sisko steadied
himself against the wall as Quark and Flenn picked
themselves up off the floor. Alarms sounded from
somewhere in the ceiling.
 Sisko slapped his comm badge. "Report!"
    "Sir," Worf responded, "the last of those shots
buckled a narrow section of our shields and struck
the Aulep vessel. The docking clamps are badly
damaged, and we have a hull breach in the docking
ring. We've already contained the breach with a
forcefield. I have fired a phaser burst across the
intruder's bow, and we are continuing to repeat our
hails, but there is still no response."
    "Shield integrity has been reestablished," Kira
said. "Shield capacity down seventeen percent over-
all but holding."
    Worf said, "Request permission to return fire,
sir!"

  "Wait!" Sisko said.
     "Captain," Quark pleaded, "you've got to do
 something! Why don't you let Worf blast them?"
     "I'm scanning the damage to the Aulep ship,"
 Major Kira said. "There's a hull breach, but I'd say
 the ship itself is in no immediate danger."
     "You may want to check with your crew," Sisko
 told Flenn, who was already tapping at a terminal
 mounted on the wall behind him. An instant later
 the door slid open and several Aulep rushed in. They
 huddled with Flenn for a moment, apparently upset.
 They kept their voices low so he couldn't make out
 their words.
  "Any casualties?" Sisko asked.
    Flenn turned to him once more. "No. Fortunately
no one has been injured. However, there is consider-
able damage to the hull, as your officer informed us.
Our main cargo bay has been ripped open. The area
is now sealed off, and we are attempting to assess the
full extent of the breach."
    One of the attending Aulep suddenly pointed,
directing everyone's attention once more to the
observation wall. A quickly dispersing cloud of
debris could be seen floating away from the Aulep
ship and the station. Flenn seemed to take an
intense interest in it.
    Before anyone could comment, the intruder fired
yet again, lighting up the stations's shields and
jostling the ship's occupants once more. The shields
seemed to hold. The Aulep rushed back into their

60

loose huddle, whispering, though only for a mo-
ment.
    "Captain," Flenn said, turning and looking nearly
as pallid as Quark now, though in an entirely differ-
ent shade. "If I may correct myself, we have deter-
mined who the attackers are, but we do not know
much about them or their motives. In any case, we
feel that Quark is right and you must do something
to stop them. At once."
    Another blast shook the ship, but this time no
more damage was done. Finally Sisko nodded. This
had gone on long enough, and clearly he wasn't
going to learn more from Flenn right now.
    "Agreed, but we're not done yet." He tapped his
comm badge. "Sisko to Worf. End the attack by any
means necessary."
    He listened as Major Kira sent a final request to
the intruders to power down their weapons. Another
burst flashed from the intruder's bow and struck
DS9's shields once more in the same spot. So much
for tact and diplomacy, he thought.
    The bright red-and-white beam of the station's
powerful phasers flashed into view as it struck the
intruder with perfect accuracy. Worf fired a second
time, and Sisko watched the target ship's shields
glow brightly, then go dark. A third beam struck the
hull, causing a small explosion along the ship's
extended stern, which was easily visible from his
position aboard Flenn's vessel.
  "Their shields are down, and their propulsion

 system is off-line," Worf reported. "The target has
 been neutralized."
     "Hail now being acknowledged, Captain," Kira
 said. "They would like to speak to whoever is in
 charge."
    "Let them stand by for a moment." Sisko tapped
his comm badge, closing the link as he turned to
Flenn. He found his host already engaged in a
discussion with yet another contingent of his crew,
three uniformed Aulep officers who had entered as
the first group was leaving.
    "I am needed on my bridge, Captain," Flenn said
after a pause. "It is urgent."
    "Very well," Sisko said. "Let's all go. Now that
we're getting to be such good friends, I'm sure you
won't mind."
  "Actually, Captain--"
    "Excellent. Coming, Quark?" Sisko asked, start-
ing out of the room.
    "I'm going where you're going," Quark replied,
falling into step at Sisko's heels.
  Flenn seemed to sigh in resignation.
    Out in the corridor Sisko let Flenn take the lead.
They moved quickly along the darkened hallway,
then up a ramp, through a pair of automatic doors,
and into a small but brightly lit control room that
had to be the Aulep bridge.
    The room was well organized, and the level of
technology was admirable, even at a glance. Five
crew members--three male, two female--occupied

62

lushly padded chairs that rested on long pneumatic
arms. As the technicians worked, the chairs moved
them deftly from one set of control panels to anoth-
er. Bright metal panels covered most of the nones-
sential surfaces.
    "Major Kira," Sisko said, tapping his comm
badge again as he watched a large screen set into one
of the bridge consoles. "Can you patch that other
ship's signal through to the Aulep bridge?"
"Tell the Aulep to open a channel," Kira replied.
Sisko looked at a dour-faced Flenn, who hesitated
for a very long moment, then signaled one of his
bridge crew to comply. The technician nodded and
tapped at his console.
"Go ahead, Major," Sisko said. "Put them on."
The face that appeared on the screen was that of a
male alien almost identical to Flenn and his crew
members, except that his skin was darker and
slightly brownish. Even his clothing was somewhat
similar to Flenn's, though the colors, mostly tans
and light greens, were not so garish.
    "I thought you didn't know them," Sisko said,
folding his arms and glaring at Flenn, who said not a
word.
"Captain," Quark said, shaking his head. "I--"
Sisko motioned him to silence, then addressed the
alien on the screne. "I am Captain Benjamin Sisko.
Why have you fired on this station?"
    "I am Dorram, Commanding the Rylep vessel
Toshien, "the alien replied. "And the answer to your

 question should be obvious: I demand to know why
 the Aulep are being afforded protection by you and
 your station."
     "I recommend you destroy the attackers while you
 have the chance," Flenn said softly, moving closer to
 Sisko. "You've seen how hostile they can be."
    "I don't think you're in a position to make de-
mands, or recommendations," Sisko said loudly.
"Either of you."
    "Captain," Dorram continued, clearly agitated,
"we have a right to know why have you allied
yourselves with the Aulep."
    Sisko found a similar expression on Flenn's face
as he compared the two. They could have been
brothers. "This station is available to any race that
wishes to make use of it," he told the Rylep. "I
intend to protect it and anyone who docks at it in
good faith--which, by the way, is a privilege that
can be revoked." He cast a grave look in Flenn's
direction. "If you have a legitimate grievance against
the Aulep, I'd be glad to listen, since they don't seem
terribly eager to talk about it. But until I get all the
facts--"
    "We will give you all the facts you need," Dorram
said.
    "Don't believe anything they say, Captain!" Flenn
said. "The Rylep are a treacherous people."
    "Not so treacherous as the Aulep," Dorram re-
plied.
    "I see," Sisko said. He turned to the Ferengi.
"Quark, any insight here?"

    "Again, I assure you, Captain," Quark replied,
breaking a rather unusual spell of silence. "I don't
know anything about these Rylep. Nothing at all!"
    "I have a suggestion," Sisko went on, turning back
to the screen. "The Rylep ship will be allowed to
dock and commence repairs, and the Aulep will be
allowed to stay and do the same... for now. In the
interim I will require both commanders to meet
with me tonight. Is that clear?" Dorram nodded.
 Flenn, after a brief pause, did the same.
    Sisko breathed a little sigh. "Good." The screen
went instantly blank.
    "The Rylep ship is maneuvering toward the sta-
tion with thrusters," Worf reported.
      "Very well," Sisko said. "Allow them to dock, but
put a security detail on them."
  "Yes, sir."
  "Sisko out."
    "Captain," Quark said, "will I be allowed to
attend this meeting?"
    "Oh, I insist!" Sisko bent over the Ferengi, leaving
little distance between them. "Somehow, Quark, I'm
certain you had a hand in getting us all into this
mess. I'll be quite interested in hearing how you
intend to get us out."

65

0

CHAPTER
       6

SISKO COULD FEEL the tension in the air even before
everyone was seated.
    He already knew this was not going to be a
pleasant meeting. The Aulep and Rylep command-
ers had readily agreed to join him at eighteen
hundred hours in his office; the hard part had been
persuading them to show up without a contingent of
armed escorts. To allay their fears for their personal
safety, Odo had stationed security personnel at their
docking ports with the promise of full protection for
everyone. Odo's men had escorted them to Sisko's
office.
    Since Aulep and Rylep had arrived, not one
cordial word had been spoken. In fact, hardly any-
one was speaking at all. They sat staring steadfastly
at the pattern of stars so clearly visible through

66

the large, eye-shaped portal just behind Sisko's
desk.
    "Is everyone comfortable?" Sisko asked, taking
his seat, interrupting the two aliens' apparent con-
centration. Flenn and Dorram nodded, more or less;
then each turned a cold, vexed glare on the other.
Sisko was glad Odo had required two additional
security officers to stay in the room. If ever a meeting
seemed likely to break down into a fistfight, this was
it. Odo himself stood between the visitors' chairs,
back a pace, hands clasped behind him. Which was
exactly where Sisko wanted him.
    "This is a small office; you don't have stare so
loudly," he said, trying to lighten the mood. He
watched with slight amazement as the two leaders
continued to glare at each other as if locked in silent
mortal combat.
    Seeing them like this, so close to each other, he
found their similarities even more striking. The
likeness extended from their physical features and
mannerisms to their attitudes--and both struck him
as particularly unpleasant.
    "Good evening," Major Kira said in a lively tone,
as the twin doors to Sisko's office hissed open. She
glanced first at Sisko, then at Odo, and finally at the
two visitors, who were staring at her, unblinking.
She wore her usual uniform, its deep red and light
salmon colors in stark contrast to the red-and-black
or blue-and-black uniforms worn by Starfleet offi-
cers. The short series of ridges on the bridge of her

 nose made her gaze seem more intense, and the
 bounce of her short hair amplified the aura of energy
 she tended to emit. The Aulep and Rylep command-
 ers seemed to find her enchanting.
     The door opened again, and Quark entered, paus-
 ing directly behind Major Kira. He seemed more at
 ease than he had a few hours ago, but quick recover-
 ies were among Quark's many talents, Sisko knew,
 so that was no surprise.
     "I trust I haven't missed anything?" Quark said
 enthusiastically, then proceeded to greet everyone.
    "No," Sisko said. "Things have been pretty quiet
so far. Which leaves that first step up to me, I guess.
So let's get started by making a couple of things
clear. The Federation does not like being used, lied
to, or fired upon, and neither do the Bajorans."
    "And neither do we," Dorram said, "which is
precisely what these Aulep tlasatt have done!"
    Dorram had used a word for which the universal
translator had no direct translation, but Sisko was
fairly certain there were several human phrases that
would have fit. Judging by the scowl on his face,
Flenn seemed to understand it exactly.
  "Your ship fired first," Sisko pointed out.
    "And not only at the Aulep ship but on our station
as well," Kira added.
    "We have a right!" Dorram said. "The Aulep have
wronged us and made you their accomplices, and
they must be made to pay."
 "What exactly have the Aulep done?" Sisko asked.

68

    "Nothing, of course," Flenn said loudly. He sat
back and folded his arms. "We are the victims here.
Victims of an unprovoked attack by these
ruthless--"
 "You call us ruthless?" Dorram demanded.
 "Yes, I do."
    "And yet you find no crime against the Rylep
beneath you!"
    "I find the Rylep beneath me, that is for certain,"
Flenn said. He turned quickly to Sisko. "Captain,
the Rylep are ruthless aggressors who will tell any
lie, break any law, and attack any helpless world in
order to expand their wealth and territories."
  Sisko raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
    "That in itself is a lie!" Dorram said, gripping the
arms of his chair. "The Aulep are nothing more than
ruthless pirates. They have preyed upon neighboring
space lanes for years!"
  Flenn looked less than amused.
    "Well," Odo said, as Sisko looked at him, "at least
they both agree on the 'ruthless' part."
    Sisko in turn looked at Quark, who for the time
being seemed inclined to say nothing at all. "I think
we need to discuss a few particulars," Sisko told his
visitors. "Don't you agree, Quark?"
    "Oh, yes, I do," Quark said, glancing from person
to person, all around the room, "but I have so few of
them to discuss. Perhaps we could start with every-
one else's particulars." He paused, then nodded
benevolently at both the visitors.

     "Very well, I will tell you of the Rylep's many
 crimes, Captain," Flenn offered. "I will tell you of
 the many races who fear the appearance of Rylep
 ships in their skies, of the helpless thousands they
 have exploited, even ruined, and then you can judge
 for yourself."
     "And when you are through listening to this great
 fiction," Dorram said, his voice reduced to a growl
 not unlike that of a bullterrier, "I will tell you of the
 countless cargoes the Aulep have stolen, the crews
 who have died at their hands, the many worlds that
 live in fear of commercial ruin because Aulep pirates
 have cost them so dearly."
    Flenn stood up and pointed a stubby orange finger
at Dorram. "You would dare accuse us--"
"Indeed I would!" Dorram shouted, rising as well.
"I should have known better than to try meeting
with you!" Flenn snarled back. "These station peo-
ple should have blasted you from the skies the
moment you appeared, just as I told them to!"
    "If it wasn't for this station, you would not be
alive to say such a thing!" Dorram said. "We would
have blasted you from the stars!"
    "Gentlemen, please!" Sisko pushed at the air in
front of him with open palms, urging the two to
settle down.
    Flenn leaned across the table. "If I had a
weapon--"
    "Who needs one!" Dorram howled, and with that
he lunged across the short distance between their

70

chairs and wrapped both hands around the Aulep
commander's neck.
    Odo and his security team were on them in an
instant, prying them apart. Sisko sighed. This was
not going to be easy, he thought. At least Quark had
managed to jump back against the wall, well out of
harm's way.
    "Lively pair, aren't they?" Odo said to Sisko as he
tightened his grip on the struggling Rylep com-
mander.
    "I think this might have to wait until they've had a
chance to calm down again," Kira said.
    "I agree," Sisko said. "We aren't getting anywhere.
Take them to back to their ships and keep them
under guard."
    Odo nodded. Then he and his men began shuffling
Dorram and Flenn out the door.
    "We'll meet again in three hours," Sisko called
after his visitors. "And we'll keep on meeting until
the two of you decide to settle down, tell me what I
want to know, and work this out."
    "From the looks of things, that might take a
while," Quark said, apparently no more pleased
with the results of the meeting than Sisko.
    "Maybe," Sisko said. "But that is going to be up to
them. And as for you, Quark," Sisko added, frown-
ing, "I'm still convinced there's something you're
not telling me. Either that, or you're a much bigger
fool than most people take you for."
  "There's no need for name-calling, Captain,"

 Quark said snappishly. "And I hope you're happy.
 Perhaps you didn't notice, but I was trying to get a
 word in, and I got nothing for my trouble. Can I go
 now?"
     "You're dismissed, but we'll see each other again
 in the morning," Sisko said.
     Quark, summoning up as much indignation as he
 could manage, hurried out.
    Sisko rose and trailed him out and down the short
flight of steps to the main level in Ops. He glanced
briefly about, noticing the half-dozen technicians
manning the various stations, feeling a certain satis-
faction at what he saw. Everything seemed to be
running smoothly, for once.
      "Mr. Worf," he said, as he looked toward Tactical.
'Tll be in my quarters if anyone needs me."
  "Yes, sir."
    Sisko took the turbolift to the habitat ring, then
strolled down the long, gently curving corridor to
the suite he shared with his son. Inside, he found
himself surrounded by the peace and quiet only
one's personal quarters could provide. He didn't
need that kind of break very often, but right now he
was in a mood to afford himself the luxury. Possibly
even a nap...
    "I thought you'd never get back," Jake said,
emerging from his room as Sisko paused before the
replicator, contemplating a snack. He didn't feel up
to cooking tonight.
 Sisko fashioned a smile. "And why's that?"

 "Well... you know."
 "I do?"
 "I'm ready for another runabout lesson."
    Sisko saw the look of radiant excitement on Jake's
face--the kind of look Sisko could never bring
himself to crush, no matter how wretched he felt.
He'd forgotten all about the lesson, of course.
"When?"
 "Now?" Jake asked, a bit sheepishly.
 "I thought you'd say that."
 Jake waited for a moment, then said, "And?"
    It might not be a bad idea to get out of the station
altogether for a while, Sisko thought. At least he
could look at it that way. "Okay," he said. "Right
now."

    Sisko felt the tension start to lift as he strapped
himself into his chair aboard the Rio Grande. No
matter how long he spent in space, no matter how
many missions he flew, there was always something
exciting about lifting off and flying into the un-
known. He saw that excitement mirrored in his son's
eyes.
    Fifteen minutes later, after they finished their
systems checks, they released the docking clamps
and lifted off from DS9 for a tour of the Bajoran
system.
    Jake's nervousness seemed to evaporate as he
carefully executed each maneuver his father asked
for, including a double turn at full impulse. An hour

73

passed before Sisko let Jake spend a little time on the
Ops consoles. Finally they turned and headed back
to the station.
    "I think you're really getting the hang of it," he
told his son, brimming with honest pride.
    "Yeah, well, I gotta impress my old man," Jake
said.
    The flight had been a short one, but it left Sisko
feeling good, almost as good as Jake, who was
grinning like a newly appointed starship captain on
his maiden voyage.
    Overall, Sisko thought, Jake's second lesson was a
complete success, much as he had expected.
    But tomorrow was another day. He had a second
meeting with the Aulep and Rylep to look forward
to, and he did not expect that to go nearly as well.

CHAPTER'
        7

"GOOD MORNING," SlSKO said as his office doors slid
apart to admit Flenn and Dorram, who were once
again followed immediately by Odo and two securi-
ty guards. Quark entered just behind them, looking
every bit as sullen as the two commanders. They all
stood about staring at one another.
 "I said, good morning," Sisko repeated.
    "There is nothing good about it," Dotram mut-
tered.
    "It's another expression," Sisko said. He indi-
cated the chairs. "Please take your seats, try to relax,
and we'll get started."
    "My crew and I wish only to leave," Flenn said,
"at once, and alone. We feel it reasonable to request
that you detain the Rylep until we are safely away.

 They are the ones, after all, who attacked your
 station and my ship without provocation."
    "Without provocation?" Dorram responded in-
stantly. "Are you listening to yourself?. I swear,
Flenn, we will hunt you down wherever you go!"
    Flenn had his hands clasped together in his lap; he
clenched them tighter now and raised his upper lip
to expose small gray teeth. "Come ahead. We will be
waiting."
    Sisko glanced at Quark, who seemed to be sinking
into an almost trancelike state. The Ferengi blinked,
and Sisko noticed that the dark circles around his
deep-set eyes seemed even darker than normal.
    Quark cleared his throat. "This all sounds a bit
hasty, don't you think? There must be some way we
can work this out and keep from killing one another.
Maybe we can even arrange a transaction that will be
favorable to everyone. One that would speak to the
future, perhaps. After all, there are many ways to
slice a pie."
  "A... pie?" Flenn asked.
      Quark glanced at Sisko with an expression that
made the captain think instantly of headache pain.
  "You're doing fine, Quark," Sisko said.
    "A pie--it's... another hu-man expression,"
Quark explained. "They've even got me doing it.
What I mean is, there should be plenty of profits to
go around. Let's take the proposed transaction be-
tween Flenn and me, for example. Perhaps we could
divide payment between the two of you, or we could
deal for one cargo now and more later on. That way,

76

eventually everybody will be happy. I would even be
willing to raise my offerwslightly, you under-
standmif it means we can all just get on with our
lives."
    Silence prevailed for several seconds. Then Flenn
slowly turned to look at Dorram, took a breath, and
said, "The Rylep would find a way to cheat us."
    "The Aulep," Dorram countered, "would find a
way to steal what is ours."
Flenn sat up, rigid. "You would lie!"
Dorram got to his feet. "You would attack!"
"You should talk!" Flenn snapped, also standing
now. "This from the same commander who is guilty
of the attempted murder of myself and my crew and
the attempted destruction of an Aulep vessel in a
neutral spacedock!"
    "Have you forgotten that you are guilty of count-
less acts of economic sabotage?
    "Gentlemen, please, mistakes were made, of
course, but the past need not determine the future,"
Quark said in a soothing voice.
    The two captains continued to glare at each other.
Dorram opened his mouth for another round of
angry bickering.
    Clearly, Sisko thought, Quark's words were having
no effect on the pair. He gave a mental sigh. Time to
intervene again.
    Before Dorram could continue, Sisko rose and
raised his deep voice to drown them out: "Perhaps
one of you could explain the details to me, so I can
understand how the two of you got to this point."

     "That is simple, Captain," Dorram replied. "You
 cannot sell what you do not have. However, Flenn
 has an easy solution to that problem. He and his
 Aulep pirates steal whatever they want. Then they
 sell the booty as far away as possible, though they
 did not run far enough this time!"
     "Is that so?" Odo said, looking at the Ferengi.
 "Fencing stolen goods, eh, Quark?"
    Sisko frowned. "Stolen, you say? Did you know
that, Quark? Exactly what sort of merchandise are
we talking about?"
  "Crystals!" Dorram declared.
    The Ferengi glanced from one face to another.
Sisko thought Quark looked genuinely shocked.
    "Yes, it was a shipment of crystals," Quark said.
He looked to Dorram. "But how did you know?"
    "Because," Dorram shouted, "Flenn stole them
from met"
    "You stole them, and you know it!" Flenn shouted
back. "So you had no legal claim. We had just as
much right to the crystals as you did."
    "But we stole them first!" Dorram screamed,
pounding his fists on the arms of his chair.
    Sisko glared at Quark, whose whole face had
darkened noticeably. He began to squirm in his seat.
"I swear," he said, his voice sounding suddenly a
little hoarse, "I didn't know any of this."
    "Stealing from a thief doesn't count, does it,
Captain?" Flenn asked, quite serious.
    "And who can believe him, Captain?" Dorram
said.

78

    Sisko balked. It seemed they had suddenly de-
cided to appoint him arbiter. And now he wasn't
sure he wanted the job. He would have been just as
happy to have them both off the station and out of
his life.
    He took a breath. "It sounds like neithe one of you
has a claim to the crystals."
    "Gentlemen, once again, please!" Quark said,
interrupting, "I can still help in many ways, I assure
you. And I see no reason why we can't start right
now to work out a reasonable, equitable deal
between--"
    "I don't see how any of these arguments matter,"
Flenn said, seeming a little less angry but obviously
quite disgusted. "Not after Dorram and his blast-
happy Rylep crew decided to start shooting indis-
criminately." Flenn looked at Dorram again. "That
cargo on my ship was irreplaceable, and you de-
stroyed it! Only a fool would have taken such a
chance, as you have clearly demonstrated. Now
neither of us can--"
    "Excuse me!" Quark said, stepping directly be-
tween the two opponents. "Did you say--did you
say destroyed?"
"When they attacked," Flenn said, nodding.
"He is telling the truth--this time," Dorram said.
Quark's gaze darted from Aulep to Rylep to Sisko
and back. "You--" he squeaked. Then he tried
again, "You mean that debris I saw floating away in
space just after the attack, that was my... my
crystals?"

  Both aliens nodded.
    Quark stepped back on wobbly legs. His eyes went
wide and fixed, and his jaw went slack. He groped
the air, found the arm of his chair, and lowered
himself clumsily into it.
  "Are you all right, Quark?" Sisko asked.
    Quark made a small, weak sound somewhere in
the back of his throat.
    Odo turned to Sisko and folded his arms. "I would
guess," he said, "that was a no."

    Elliena gazed out through the Rio Grande's main
viewport from the seat next to Jake, hands folded in
her lap. She hadn't said a word since coming aboard.
Jake didn't know if something was wrong, if he'd
done something to offend her.
    They hadn't seen each other in more than three
weeks, yet after their initial greetings and small talk,
the mood had changed to one of quiet assessment. It
made him uneasy. He found himself increasingly
eager to say something and move on; he just didn't
know what.
    Finally he tapped at several of the panels in front
of him, checking secondary systems. He wanted to
get under way. But there was little he could do to
speed things up. He didn't dare power the runabout
up. Not yet. You didn't gain big privileges by mess-
ing up on the little ones.
    He took a breath. "It shouldn't be much longer,"
he said, finally breaking their silence. "Chief

O'Brien said he'd be here as soon as he finished
with--"
    Jake paused. Elliena had very little technical ex-
pertise. She was a student of the arts, which was one
of the things that had drawn him to her. O'Brien was
busy running a diagnostic on the station trans-
porter's replacement phase transition coils--which
wouldn't mean a thing to Elliena. He didn't want to
bury her in technobabble.
    "When he's finished with some maintenance
checks," he said instead.
    "That's all right," Elliena said in a voice that
reminded Jake of a young Kira Nerys, a comparison
made even easier by Elliena's appearance. She was
slightly shorter than the major, and her complexion
was perhaps a bit darker, but her petite, intelligent
face and measured manner were similar--except for
Elliena's smile, which was entirely her own. She
wore her hair slightly long and curled under and
forward at the neck, still a popular style on Bajor,
and her ankle-length dress covered with subtle
brown-on-tan scrollwork patterns, was quite Ba-
joran as well. She said that her parents insisted on
formality both in clothing and in manners, but Jake
suspected she enjoyed it.
    "I've only met Chief O'Brien once. Is he as good
an engineer as I've heard?"
  "Actually," Jake said, "he's better."
  Elliena smiled. "Oh."
  They sat quietly once again. Jake ran through a

 thousand things to say to her in his head, but
 somehow they all sounded stupid. The last thing he
 wanted was to embarrass himself in front of her.
     "It was nice of Chief O'Brien to offer to take us
 out," Elliena finally said.
     "Yeah, the chief's a great guy. My dad asked him
 to help with my flight training, and he said he
 would."
  "And he doesn't mind having me along?"
  "No. I asked."
  "Good."
     Jake took a breath, let it out. They sat again for a
 while. Finally he decided to try a new tack.
     "To tell you the truth, I hope their Bajor resources
 survey isn't going very well," he said, waiting for her
 reaction and guessing she would understand.
  "Oh, me too," she said, just as he'd hoped.
    Jake caught himself grinning a little too much, but
Elliena quickly joined in.
    "You know, with any luck, they'll be at it for
months," she added. Which of course meant Elliena
would be visiting for months as well. She looked
about to giggle.
    Jake let his grin disappear as a splash of reality
entered his mind. He knew that his father and
Elliena's parents, along with the technicians who
were working on the project, were much too talented
to allow the project to drag on so long. It was
scheduled to run for another three months at the
outside. But if experience was any indicator, it
would probably conclude early.

 "Something wrong?" Elliena asked.
    "No, not exactly," he said, banishing his pessimis-
tic thoughts. They had this time together; why spoil
it by thinking too far into the future? "Besides, right
now I'm doing everything I can to make things right.
I'm spending time with you, and I'm working on
upgrading my pilot status."
    "Maybe we'll get to spend a little time alone
together before I have to go back to Bajor," Elliena
said, looking at him with what had to be her most
polite smile. Their relationship hadn't taken any
sharp romantic turns yet, but Jake had begun to
suspect there was a strong possibility it might. He
hoped this was a clear sign that Elliena felt the same
way.
    "Maybe," Jake replied. They stared into each
other's eyes. He wasn't sure her parents would
approve of their relationship if it did get serious, but
he was increasingly certain that he did. Jake was
acutely aware, as he sat gazing at her now, that for
the moment at least they were completely alone. He
wasn't sure of what do next. Did she want him to get
up and put his arms around her right this minute?
Did she want him to ask?
     "O'Brien to the Rio Grande. "The chiefs Irish lilt
 rang crisp and clear from the runabout's comm
 speaker, interrupting Jake's train of though
   "Jake Sisko here, Chief," he said.
     "Sorry, Jake, but I've been detained. We had some
 minor power fluctuations in the main energizing
 coils. I think we've got it smoothed out, but I want to

run another simulation to make sure. It shouldn't
take too long. Ten minutes at the most."
  "Okay, Chief. We aren't going anywhere."
    "See that you don't," the chief barked, though
Jake could picture his grin as he spoke. A tone
signaled O'Brien's sign-off.
    "I may be going back to Bajor again sooner than I
thought," Elliena told him. "For a couple of weeks
or more this time. My parents have to analyze some
of the new resource data before they can continue. I
guess there are some funding questions involved."
    "Maybe they'll let you stay here on the station,"
Jake suggested, something he was sure she had been
thinking as well, even though she hadn't mentioned
it.
    "I've already suggested the idea," she replied,
"but they didn't seem too thrilled. They let me stay
here last night while they went down to Bajor to
attend a meeting, but that was only because they're
returning this morning. The next time they leave, I'll
have to go with them." She slowly let out a sigh.
    "I... I see," Jake said. That wasn't what he
wanted at all, but he wasn't sure what to do about it,
if anything.
    "A few months ago it might have been different,"
she went on. "But with all the trouble lately, they're
concerned about my safety--and theirs. That's why
they've been so reluctant to move to Deep Space
Nine even temporarily." She laughed. "They're not
completely paranoid, but almost. They can't help
worrying, at least in the backs of their minds, about

84

the threat of an invasion by the Dominion, about the
Klingons going to war with the Federation, and
about the Cardassians changing their government
again and coming back--not to mention all the
ordinary disasters that can happen in space. They've
got all the statistics."
    "I understand," Jake said. "And I guess I'd feel
the same if it was my daughter who wanted to stay."
    This seemed to please Elliena in no small way. "I
bet your father never worries about you," she said,
eyes wide, a smile just beginning. She was watching
him closely.
    Jake thought his answer over carefully. "Not as
much as he used to," he said. Elliena's smile grew a
little wider.
    "Look," Jake said, as a minor change in one of the
runabout's Ops panel displays caught his eye. He
keyed the main viewer and began scanning near
space. The image showed Bajor in the distance, as
well as countless stars. A planetary shuttle was
leaving a low orbit around Bajor, silently, gracefully
taking up a trajectory that would bring it to a
rendezvous with DS9. Jake found Elliena watching
the view as well. It was different from the one they
could see through the runabout's two large front
windows--that of the station's towering upper
docking pylons.
    On the screen they watched the shuttle's engines
glow briefly, adjusting its course as it began to grow
larger.
 "That's the only space travel I've ever known,"

Elliena said, an edge of excitement in her voice.
"Here and back."
    "You're really looking forward to this flight, aren't
you?" Jake said.
 Elliena grinned. "It will be an adventure."
    Jake grinned back. "Definitely." He checked the
time impatiently; O'Brien would be along any min-
ute, which would not be soon enough.

Flenn and Dorram were on their feet again.
"You would see us cut off from the universe if you
had your way!" the Aulep commander shouted,
waving his arms wildly.
      "Cut you off?. We should do the universe a favor
instead and cut you in half!." Dorram thundered.
  "That's all I'd expect you to say!"
    "Is it?" Dorram said. "Admit that you and your
thieving crew have attempted toa"
"While you and your murderous crew--"
"Gentlemen, I don't see this argument getting us
anywhere," Sisko interrupted yet again. He had been
trying without success to make them see the sense of
polite discussion and compromise, and he was get-
ting tired of it. He looked to Quark, but the Ferengi
remained silent and absolutely motionless in his
chair, staring straight ahead. He hadn't moved an
inch since learning his crystals had been destroyed.
    "Captain," Flenn said, "why don't you simply tell
these Rylep that they are not welcome here and send
them away?"
 "Perhaps it is the Aulep who are not welcome,"

86

Dorram quickly countered. "You have no cargo to
sell, so you have no business here, and you certainly
aren't making any friends."
    "We have no cargo because of you!" Flenn
snapped, stepping forward and balling his stubby
fingers into a fist. Odo held him back while one of
the security guards took a step closer to Dorram.
    "What I'd like to know," Sisko said, no longer in a
conciliatory mood, "is who those crystals were stol-
en from to begin with."
    The two visiting commanders said nothing. After
a pause, Sisko looked the question to Quark, who
had apparently returned to the here and now. The
Ferengi rolled his eyes.
 "I know that sickly look of yours, Quark."
    "What look?" Quark said, holding his hands up
and nervously bouncing stiff fingers off one another.
    Sisko leaned across his desk. "You know exactly
what I mean. And I'd say you know exactly whose
crystals they were. If you're withholding that
information--"
    "No, Captain," Quark interrupted, swallowing as
his voice cracked. "But you're right, I am sick. I
need to lie down for a while."
    Sisko dropped any pretense of patience. "Listen to
me, Quark. If you know anything, you had better
spit it out right now."
    "Come on, Quark," Odo said in a gravelly voice,
"Answer the nice captain."
    "Honestly," Quark said, "I don't know where the
crystals came from. But I do know who the buyer

was to be. And that's what concerns me. He's not
going to be happy."
    Odo said, "Somehow I don't feel very sorry for
you."
    Sisko leaned toward Quark, all ears. "And who
would this buyer be?"
    The intercom sounded, followed by Commander
Worfs resonant voice: "Ops to Captain Sisko."
    "What is it?" Sisko said. He hoped it wasn't
another emergency.
    "A ship is emerging from the wormhole," Worf
said. "They do not answer our hails. We are attempt-
ing to identify them."
  "Is it a Jem'Hadar ship?"
  "I do not believe so, sir."
    "Very well," Sisko said, taking a deep breath. 'Tll
be right there. Sisko out."
    Rising, he nodded to Odo. "See what else you can
find out." He headed for the door.
 "With pleasure," Odo said, smiling.

CHAPTER
        8

"WVatT'S OUR StAtUS?" Sisko asked as he jogged
down the steps from his office to the floor of Ops. All
eyes glanced up at him, then immediately went back
to their duty stations.
    "Captain, I have identified the ship," Worf re-
ported. "It is Klingon. A military-class freighter."
    "We've been trying to make contact," Dax said.
"They're accelerating straight toward the station."
    "Prepare to raise shields," Sisko told Worf. "Dax,
put them on-screen."
    On the main viewer Sisko watched a small dot
appear against the backdrop of the wormhole, whose
swirling, receding rings of brilliant blue and white
were still visible from the ship's passage through it.
In a blink, the wormhole seemed to vanish again.
 "Magnify," Sisko said. The dot became a long,

dark spacecraft, narrow toward the front, bulky in
the middle, a wide wedge configuration at the stern.
Hard angles in dark gray characterized its hull. Even
at a glance, Sisko could tell it was of Klingon design.
    "Captain," Worf said clearly and unaffectedly,
"sensors indicate the freighter's warp core is on the
verge of overload. The entire vessel has sustained
heavy damage. That may explain why they are not
responding to your hail. I am reading enough life
signs to account for most of the crew."
    Sisko eyed the screen. "What kind of damage have
they sustained, Mr. Worf?"
    "Residual energy patterns indicate heavy weapons
fire. Captain," Worf added, looking up from his
consoles as Sisko turned to him, "that freighter is
well armed, and its crew would normally include a
number of trained Klingon warriors."
    "Is it possible the Jem'Hadar attacked them?"
Sisko asked as Major Kira entered Ops from the
turbolift and went straight to her station.
    "The Klingons would have fought back," Dax
remarked.
    "Strike patterns do not match those typical of
Jem'Hadar weapons," Worf continued. "They
are--" He paused, touching pads on his console,
apparently rechecking his data. He looked up once
more, mild consternation on his face. "What is it?" Sisko asked.
    "Sir, the burns appear to match those made by
Klingon disrupters."
 "So it's possible the Klingons are fighting each

other," Sisko considered out loud. It had happened
before... but in the Gamma Quadrant?
    "Possible but unlikely," Dax said. "Other weap-
ons would leave similar traces. I'd say somebody
surprised them."
    "But who would attack the Klingons?" Kira
asked. "It isn't like Klingons to run from a fight, so
we have to assume that whoever attacked them
either retreated or was destroyed."
    "We don't know that they're running from any-
thing," Sisko said. "But you're right. Klingons don't
usually retreat."
    "Captain," Worf said, "I'm getting a message
from the freighter. Audio only."
  Sisko's brow went up. Good. "Put it on."
  "This is... Captain Dolras of... Klingon
freighter Toknor, on--"
    Static filled the air, replacing the Klingon's halt-
ing, shaken voice. Sisko straightened in response.
Either this Dolras was a most atypical Klingon or he
had been through a pretty bad time.
  "Can you get them back?" he asked Dax.
    "Give me a moment," Dax replied, working at her
controls. The static began to subside, and then the
voice returned, faint but understandable.
    "We require immediate assistance," Dolras said.
"You and your station are about to come under
attack."
    Sisko looked at his officers, who seemed as sur-
prised as he was. "I see," Sisko said. "We can
arrange docking space for you, and we can have a

 medical team standing by to help with any wounded,
 but I'd like to know what you mean by an attack.
 From whom?"
    "I wish I could tell you, Captain," Dolras said,
fading again. "But the threat they bring should be
your greatest concern. Look what they have done
tom"

  The voice was gone in a wash of noise.
    "Please repeat. Your signal is garbled," Sisko said
with some urgency.
    "... must prepare defenses... immediately!"
Dolras said, this last coming across clear enough.
    Sisko still couldn't see any other ship, and he
wasn't getting any reports of sightings from his crew.
"Who attacked you?" he asked. Again, static came
back. He turned to Dax once more.
    "We've lost him again, Captain," she reported. "I
don't know if I'll be able tom"
    "Captain," Worf interrupted, looking up from his
console. "Another contact, coming through the
wormhole."
    Sisko snapped his head around. He could see the
colorful swirl of the wormhole forming again behind
the Klingon freighter. The Toknor had slowed, ap-
proaching the station. The damage to its hull was
clearly visible, and it was extensive.
    "Identification?" Sisko asked, keeping his eyes on
the screen as a second vessel appeared. Dolras
hadn't been able to give them much time to prepare.
    "It is another Klingon freighter, identical to the
first," Worf replied.

92

"They are following the flight path of the Toknor
exactly," Kira said.
    "Hail them," Sisko told Dax. "Maybe they can
shed a little more light on all of this."
    "Captain," Worf said, "I recommend we arm all
weapons. If these freighters are part of a Klingon
military convoy, whoever attacked them might have
followed them here, just as Dolras warned.
Perhaps--" He cut himself off, eyes darting down to
the displays at his fingertips. "The second freighter
has opened fire."
    Sisko watched a luminous energy pulse emanate
from the second freighter and strike at Dolras's ship.
The bright bloom of a starboard-side explosion gave
testimony to the attacker's accuracy.
"That answers a few questions," Kira said coldly.
In three quick steps Sisko made his way to the
large central Ops console, just opposite Kira's posi-
tion. "Captain Dolras," he said, tapping at the
lighted panel beneath his fingers, "bring your ship
around to these coordinates. That should put the
station between you and the other freighter. Mean-
while, can you tell us anything about your situation?
Why are your own people firing on you?"
    "Captain," Kira said, "I'm not sure Dolras can
maneuver well enough to get behind us."
    "The second freighter has fired again, Captain,"
Worf stated, confirming what Sisko was seeing. "An-
other direct hit. The Toknor has no shields remain-
ing. Warp and impulse engines are completely
off-line."

     "Captain, the Toknor's hull has been breached,"
 Kira said. "They're losing atmospheric integrity."
     Again Sisko watched the screen intently. The
 Toknor had begun to drift to port as a visible cloud
 of gas, crystallizing as it encountered the cold of
 space, formed on its starboard side. His eyes wid-
 ened as a long section of the hull tumbled free,
 beginning a random journey toward the outer
 reaches of the Bajoran solar system.
    "I'm still reading life signs; they're not all dead,"
Kira said. "And I'm picking up thruster discharge.
Dolras must be trying to regain control."
    "No," Worf said flatly. "As far as I can determine,
their forward disrupter banks are still functional and
partially charged."
    "So they're still trying to fight back," Sisko said,
letting his voice trail off as the idea settled in his
mind. That, he thought, sounded like the Klingons
he was used to.
  "The Toknor is firing," Worf said.
    Sisko witnessed the disrupter discharge. Their aim
was accurate, but the pulse seemed to pass right
through the attacking vessel. There was no visible
damage to the second ship. Sisko stared in disbelief.
What he was seeing was simply impossible.
    "Captain," Worf said, "I am unable to get a lock
on the second freighter. It is as if it isn't there."
 "They still won't answer our hails," Dax said.
    "Arm weaponry," Sisko commanded, which drew
a satisfied nod from Worfi The Toknor was close

enough now to be fully visible. Sisko flinched invol-
untarily at what he saw. It was clear that the dam-
aged freighter would not be able to drag itself around
to the far side of the station, out of harm's way. The
station's shields would have to be lowered to allow
the vessel to come straight in and dock, but Sisko
couldn't risk doing that just now; there was no
telling what the second freighter might do, given the
chance. He couldn't beam the Toknor's crew off,
either. The same dangers applied.
    "Major Kira, how close is the Toknor?" he asked.
"Can we get a tractor beam on the ship and tow it in
close enough to extend our shields around it?"
  "They are within range," Kira answered.
  Sisko nodded. "Good. Do it."
    "Tractor beam locked," Kira replied. "It's work-
ing. Preparing to extend shields."
    "The second freighter is returning fire," Worf
reported.
  "Direct hit," Dax said an instant later.
  "They're firing again," Worf said.
    Sisko looked up in time to see the second energy
burst strike Dolras's vessel amidships. He was
forced to shield his eyes against the blinding explo-
sion that followed, filling the screen and all of near
space with its white-hot fury. A shock wave followed
straight on the heels of the flash and struck the
station with a sudden forceful punch that sent Sisko
tumbling across the deck. The station's lights
dimmed as the floor pitched, then shuddered badly,

 rattling teeth and bones, but the sudden darkness
 was quickly lit once more as overloaded plasma
 conduits spewed energy from half a dozen Ops
 consoles. Slowly the floor moved back to level, and
 the emergency lighting kicked in. Sisko scrambled to
 his feet. "Is everyone all right?"
     He got nods from the bridge crew; most of them
 had managed to cling to their stations. Sisko found
 one exception quickly enough: Ensign Ballard, one
 of his newest Ops officers, lay on the floor, uncon-
 scious, burn marks on her hands and uniform.
    "Sisko to Bashir, we need a medical team up here
right away!" He turned to his officers. "What the hell
just happened?"
    "The blast occurred just as I was attempting to
reconfigure the shields around the freighter," Kira
said. "Most of the force was directed inward, toward
the station. We lost the shields for a moment, but
I've got them back."
    "Damage reports are coming in from all over the
station," Dax said. "Some of it appears to be heavy.
I'm trying to determine how serious our casualties
are."
    "The Toknor has been completely destroyed,"
Worf answered, his voice showing none of the emo-
tion Sisko knew he must be feeling. On the main
viewscreen only a spreading cloud of debris could
been seen where Dolras's ship had been a moment
ago.
    "Hail that freighter till you get an answer!" Sisko
said, glaring at the screen. "And try to open a

channel to the Klingon sector command. Anybody
you can get."
    "Sir," Worf said, followed by a rumble from
somewhere deep in his throat as he stood shaking his
head at his consoles. He took a breath. "I've been
running a full sensor sweep on the remaining freight-
er." He paused again, fingers moving, making the
console beep and chime.
 "What is it, Mr. Worf?" Sisko prodded.
    "It's as if there is nothing there. I can detect no life
signs and no drive signature of any type."
"You mean... any known type," Sisko suggested.
"No, sir. I mean there is no evidence of any kind
of propulsion system, no active hull echoes, no life-
support system or shield energy. I am picking up
trace energy readings, but nothing else. It is possible
our weapons would be useless against the target, just
as the Toknor's were."
  "Can we use a tractor beam on it?"
    Worf shook his head, and Sisko saw a mix of
frustration and disappointment on the Klingon's
features. "I do not think so."
    "Captain," Dax said, "I'm receiving distress calls
from several ships in dock. At least one of them has
been blown clear of its moorings. And I've got
another message coming in from a Bajoran plane-
tary shuttle that was on approach. They were caught
in the blast and are going to require assistance."
    "Very well, get crews to the runabouts and launch
them right away. In the meantime--"
  "Benjamin!"

    Dax's tone caught Sisko's immediate attention.
He looked at her, watched her stricken expression as
she paid keen attention to another message.
    "What is it, Dax?" he asked, taking a step toward
her.
    "The Rio Grande is drifting free. It must have
been caught in the blast wave like the others." Dax's
eyes came to his. "Benjamin, Chief O'Brien was
going to take Jake and Elliena out today. They may
be in the runabout."
    Sisko nodded gravely, recalling the fact, feeling his
stomach harden. "Is the chief with them now?"
Dax tapped the comm. "Ops to Chief O'Brien."
The chime rang back almost at once. "O'Brien
here. I'm on my way to Ops. I'll be there in a few
seconds."
"Where are Jake and Elliena?" Sisko asked.
"They're aboard a runabout," O'Brien replied.
Sisko looked at. the main viewer. "They're alone,"
he said, scanning the image on the screen. "Try to
raise them."
    "I've got Jake on the comm," Dax said after a
pause. "I'll put him on."
    Sisko held a deep breath, then let it out as the
faces of Jake and Elliena appeared on the screen,
taking the place of the stars and the second Klingon
freighter. "Are the two of you all right?"
    "Yes, I think so," Jake replied, sounding a bit
short of breath but otherwise calm.
 "We got bounced around a little," Elliena said.

She was clearly shaken, but appeared to be holding
her own.
    "I bet you did," Sisko said. "Jake, what's your
status?"
    "The runabout has been damaged, but I'm not
sure how bad it is. I can try to get an idea."
    "I'm not reading any systems failures," Kira re-
ported. "But main power wasn't online to begin
with."
    "If they can get the runabout powered up," Sisko
said, "will Jake be able to navigate?"
 Kira shrugged. "I don't see why not."
    "What about using our tractor beam on the Rio
Grande?"
"We should be able to latch on," Kira said.
"Captain," Worf said, "doing so would draw
attention to the runabout, and it was just after our
beam was activated that the Toknor was destroyed.
The two may have no connection, but the second
freighter is still at point-blank range. If they should
open fire..."
      "I see your point," Sisko said, "but for the mo-
ment they don't seem to be doing anything at all."
 Worf checked his console. "Confirmed."
    The captain raised his voice to the intercom once
more. "Jake, listen to me. We can't beam you off
without dropping the shields, but the runabout
seems functional. I want you to get the engines
online, then raise the runabout's shields. After that,
take the helm, but wait for my instructions. We're

 going to try to pull you in, but if anything goes
 wrong, you may have to fly the Rio Grande yourself."
     "Yes, sir," Jake said evenly, though Sisko could
 see a look of tense excitement on his son's face,
 which was exactly what he would have expected.
     "Are my parents on the station?" Elliena asked,
 sounding nervous but steady.
    "I don't have that information," Sisko told her.
"As I recall, they were due back today. I'll have
someone look into it at once. We'll tell them what's
going on."
  "Thank you, Captain," Elliena said.
    Sisko turned briefly, letting his gaze find each of
his Ops oflScers. "All right, let's make sure we can
give them a happy ending."
    Everyone went to work. Sisko made his way up to
Worf's tactical station, where he carefully watched
as the sensors indicated the precise rise of power
levels aboard the Rio Grande. When the runabout's
shields were activated at full power, Sisko gave the
signal. A wide, oscillating tractor beam reached out
into space and touched its target, illuminating the
Rio Grande, turning it slightly as it was set in
motion.
    "The runabout has been engaged," Dax reported.
"We're pulling them in."
    The screen went back to the original external
view. Then Sisko's eyes went wide as he witnessed a
second beam, very much like the one from the
station, suddenly appear and touch the runabout
from a different direction.

    "Captain," Worf snapped, "the Klingon freighter
has activated a tractor beam."
     "They're attempting to pull the runabout toward
them," Kira said, anxiously tapping at her panel.
  "Go to maximum power!" Sisko barked.
  "Already there, Captain," Kira responded. "The
  freighter is matching us exactly .... Wait!" Kira bit
  her lip as she stared intently at her displays.
  "They're increasing power. We're losing the run-
  about."
    Sisko slammed his fist on the console before him.
"Suggestions!"
    "Sir," Worf said, "at full thrust the Rio Grande's
engines, combined with our tractor beam, may pro-
vide enough power to overcome the pull of the other
beam."
    Sisko stood for an instant considering the prob-
abilities. "It might work."
  "I believe it is their only chance," Worf attested.
  "Jake," Sisko said, "can you hear me?"
      "Yes," Jake said. His voice quavered, and Sisko
realized the runabout must be shaking itself apart.
  "What's going on?"
    "I think this ship is going to break up any second
now. I've lost control. I don't think--"
    "I know, Jake. Can you verify that you have the
engines online?"
  "Yes, but the helm isn't responding."
     "That's because that freighter is trying to pull you
 away from the station. We can't fight it alone, so
 you're going to have to help us get you free." He

turned to Kira. "Major, give him a heading for
maximum combined effect, away from the freighter
but not too close to the station--we don't want him
to crash into us if this works. Jake, enter the heading,
and when I tell you to, go to full impulse. Give it
everything you've got."
    "Confirmed," Jake answered, breathless. "Course
laid in."
    Sisko waited only a moment. "Okay, Jake, full
thrust!"
  "Firing engines--now," Jake said.
  "They're coming around," Kira said.
    Sisko stood staring at the viewer, focusing all his
attention on the small dark spot that was the Rio
Grande caught in the crisscrossed tractor beams. He
could see the glow from the runabout's engines and
could estimate the amount of combined energy that
was being spent on that one place in space right now,
the place that held his only son and a Bajoran
diplomat's only daughter.
    "The freighter is still increasing power to its
tractor beam," Kira said. "I don't know where
they're getting it from, but I don't think it'll be
enough to hold the Rio Grande."
    Dax shook her head. "The runabout's engines are
beginning to overload. If this doesn't work in the
next few seconds Jake is going to have to shut
down."
 "Mr. Worf, how are we doing?" Sisko asked.
    "The runabout is beginning to shear away," the
commander replied, eyes fixed on his console.

 "They might just do it," Kira agreed.
    "They are free!" Worf shouted. with enough ex-
citement to cause Sisko to look at him with surprise.
    On the screen the small dark spot they had been
observing suddenly darted away from the intersect-
ing tractor beams. Sisko continued to watch, jubi-
lant at first, then going cold as he realized the
runabout was spinning out of control.
     "Jake, shut down the engines!" he shouted. "Use
your thrusters. You have to regain helm control."
  "I'm--I'm trying," Jake replied shakily.
    "He doesn't have the experience to deal with
anything like this," Sisko said, thinking out loud. He
gripped the console so hard that his hands began to
hurt.
    "Captain," Kira reported, looking up at Sisko.
"They're headed straight for the wormhole."
    As she spoke, the vast bright whirlpool of swirling
circles that signified the opening of the wormhole
erupted on the screen. The Rio Grande spun toward
its open mouth, out of reach, out of control, falling
into the spiral's central fury, then vanishing from
sight.
    Sisko stood by, stunned, holding a breath, unable
to let it out. The wormhole disappeared again,
leaving only the empty darkness of space.
    "The second freighter is moving off," Worf said,
proving himself the only officer whose attention was
not entirely focused on the runabout. "But... this
is not possible," Worf said.
  Sisko slowly turned to his strategic operations

officer, slightly numb. "What is not possible, Mr.
Worf?."
    "It is... that is..." He stopped, apparently
collecting his thoughts. "The entire vessel seems to
be fading from sight."
    "Magnify," Sisko said. The Klingon freighter sud-
denly filled the main viewer. But where definitive
detail should have been visible, he saw stars begin-
ning to show through the ship's ponderous hull.
    "The ship is moving into the wormhole," Worf
added as the wormhole appeared once more imme-
diately ahead of the freighter's advancing bow.
    Following Jake! Sisko thought, as he watched the
freighter grow more faint, like a ghostly mirage,
fading into the wormhole, until it vanished altogeth-
er from sight.

0

CHAPTER
       9

CHIEF MILES O'BRIE~ shook his head in frustration.
He'd been going over the events involving the two
Klingon freighters, working with the Ops personnel
who had been there. A lot of the data didn't make
any sense, but admitting that wasn't getting him
anywhere. He'd been an engineer for too many years
to be left scratching his head, especially with an
impatient captain looking over his shoulder. He
stood back from the central Ops station and used
the back of his hand to wipe the dampness from
his forehead, then put both palms flat on either side
of the console displays as if willing them to coop-
erate.
    "I'm afraid none of us has many answers," Sisko
said. "We'll just have to keep at it until we get
so me."

     "Well, sir," O'Brien said, running his fingers
 through his short locks, "I do have quite a few
 questions. That first freighter was real enough; the
 debris is still floating around out there. And the
 readings in the sensor logs leave no doubt that
 the disrupters the second freighter used were real
 enough as well--and Klingon, I'd say; the readings
 are almost textbook."
  "Almost?" Sisko asked.
    O'Brien nodded. "Yes, but not quite. Disrupters
bleed plasma all over the place when they're fired.
They leave a trail of polarized energy wherever they
go. In a system like this, the solar wind dissipates the
trail eventually, but that can take weeks. I've got
clear trails from the disrupters fired by the Toknor,
but almost nothing from those fired by the other
ship."
    "But the second freighter was identical to the
first," Worf noted, "and definitely Klingon."
    "They both seemed authentic enough," Kira said,
"except that one of them vanished without a trace."
    "If they were using a cloaking device, it's not like
any I've ever seen," Sisko added.
    "That class of ship is not ordinarily equipped with
cloaking equipment," Worf said. "But even if that
one was, the captain is right. No known cloaking
device would explain what we saw."
    "When the second freighter was visible, we should
have gotten normal readings," Dax said, barely
looking up from her continuing scans. "But through-

out the encounter, our sensors detected almost
nothing."
    "Agreed," Sisko said. "And both Klingon and
Romulan technology becomes fully effective within
seconds after it is activated. That second freighter
disappeared a little bit at a time, almost as if it had
never been there at all."
    "As if it was being sucked into the wormhole a
particle at a time," Kira said, setting the chief's
imagination in motion.
    "Those are both good possibilities," O'Brien told
her. "I mean, according to the logs, when that
second ship was here, it was hardly here at all. It was
like some kind of particle projection or hologram."
    "I doubt anyone on the receiving end of that
freighter's weapons fire would agree with that assess-
ment," Sisko said. "Including Jake, Elliena, and the
crew of the Toknor."
    O'Brien nodded, finding himself for the most part
back where he'd started. Clearly some unknown
technology was at work.
    "Chief," Dax said, clearly concentrating as she
worked at her station, "I may have something here.
A ship's engines leave a trail, too. I just ran a sweep,
and I'm picking up a pattern of charged neutrino
particles. It's faint and spreading, but I'm sure they
were left by one of those two Klingon freighters."
She looked up. "I'd say the first one. They lead
straight back through the wormhole."
    "Which means they might lead to a matching
stream on the other side," O'Brien suggested.

    "And maybe to wherever those Klingon ships
came from," Kira said, "and what it was they were
fighting over."
  Dax nodded, adding a slight grin.
    "At least that gives us a direction to look in,"
Sisko said. "I have to admit I don't like any of the
possibilities. For all we know, the Klingons might
be trying to trade with the Dominion, or they may
be developing a new weapons system. We could be
walking into a lot of trouble."
    "Both are... unlikely," Worf said. "But an inves-
tigation would seem to be in order."
    Sisko nodded. "How long has it been since the
wormhole closed?" he asked Dax.
    She glanced down. "If Jake was able to return, he
should have been back by now."
  "I'd say you're right," Sisko replied.
    "Are you going after them yourself, sir?" the chief
asked, already certain that Sisko would go; that was
what O'Brien would have done if his daughter,
Molly, had been aboard the Rio Grande.
    "Yes, but first I need all the information I can
get," Sisko replied. "Jake and Elliena aren't the only
ones I'm responsible for. We have to assume that the
second freighter somehow went back through the
wormhole, if it was ever completely in this quadrant
in the first place."
    "You mean something like the holographic projec-
tion idea," Dax said.
    Sisko kept his sigh to himself. "I don't know what
I mean. Chief O'Brien is right. We've got disappear-

108

ing ghost ships, Klingon against Klingon, unpro-
voked attacks on a Federation runabout, and for
now we can't even begin to figure out what the hell is
going on."
    He paused to consider everyone in Ops for a
moment, then settled again on Kira. "Major, have
there been any reports or rumors of problems,
anomalies, anything unusual in the Gamma Quad-
rant?"
 "None that I know of," she said.
    Sisko looked around him. "Has anyone else heard
anything that might be significant?"
"No," Worf said, mildly apologetic. "I have not."
"Me either," O'Brien said, feeling the same way.
"Even the Jem'Hadar have been quiet lately," he
added, trying to sound at least somewhat helpful.
    "There were two routine navigational reports
from a Ferengi trade ship, just this past week," Kira
said, tapping at her console. She waited a moment,
sucking lightly at her lower lip, then abruptly nod-
ded. "Here it is." She paused again, then frowned.
"It isn't anything, really. Both reports describe a
dark body, mass and configuration appropriate to a
large moon or planetoid. It was seen drifting through
the nearest part of the Myalon Corridor, just a few
light-years from the other side of the wormhole. But
if you're looking for something worth arguing over,
there aren't many other candidates."
    "The Myalon Corridor?" O'Brien asked. He'd
heard it mentioned a couple of times before, but
didn't know what it was, exactly.

    Dax said, "It's an extended area containing rela-
tively few stars. We understand it's a commonly
traveled space lane in that sector, especially for
anyone wishing to avoid passing through Dominion
territories."
      "Doesn't sound too promising. I mean, there are
lots of stray planetoids around," O'Brien remarked.
  "Agreed," Sisko said. "What else?"
  No one said a word.
    "Very well," the captain told them, "we'll just
have to make something turn up. I'm not going to
wait any longer. Transfer all available data on those
freighters and those navigation reports to one of the
runabouts. Major, I'm leaving you in command."
Sisko glanced up at Worf, who outranked Major
Kira, but the Klingon did not question the order.
    "Wouldn't you rather take the Defiant?" Kira
asked.
    "We've been doing a little maintenance on her,"
O'Brien told her. "It'll take a couple of hours to get
the engines back online."
"I don't want to wait that long," Sisko said.
'Tll have the Rubicon ready in just a few min-
utes," O'Brien said. He stepped over to one of the
consoles and began transferring composite sensor
data. Finishing, he started toward the turbolift, then
paused before stepping on. "Coming, Captain?"
    "We have plenty of people who can see to the
runabout, Chief."
 "I know, sir, but I'd like to go along. You'll need

someone with you. And if the Rio Grande is dam-
aged, you'll need an engineer."
    "I see. Any other reasons?" Sisko asked, letting a
decidedly congenial expression start to show as he
joined the chief.
    "Yes, sir, I guess there are. I'd like to know how a
Klingon freighter with no mass and no drive could
do what that one did, then just disappear."
    That wasn't all, and O'Brien had already guessed
that Sisko knew it. He and Jake had been friends for
some time.
 "And?" the captain prodded.
    "I feel a little responsible for what's happened to
Jake and Elliena," O'Brien admitted.
    "I don't understand why. It's not your fault. No
one could have predicted that Klingon attack."
    "I know, but if I'd been there, I might have been
able to get them back. Either way, I guess I'm just
worried about that kid of yours."
    "Very well," he told O'Brien, extending his hand.
"Welcome aboard."

    Major Kira felt a twinge of trepidation as she
watched the runabout status displays, double-
checking as Sisko and O'Brien put the Rubicon
through a brief systems check, then powered it up
for departure. Kira had her work cut out for her
today. Dax was already smoothing ruffled feathers,
since the comm channels were filled with panicked
civilians trying to find out what had happened and

how soon they could leave DS9. Dozens of ships had
been damaged while docked at the station, and then
there was the crippled Bajoran shuttle, which had
managed to creep within range of DS9's tractor
beam and was only now being brought gently in.
Besides DS9's guests, many of the station's resi-
dents, both permanent and temporary, could be less
than accommodating. Every bruise and bump, once
Doctor Bashir finished treating them, was sure to
find voice before the day was out.
    The major still hadn't gotten full damage reports
on the station itself, but so far she hadn't learned of
anything too serious--which was just as well, since
Chief O'Brien was presently aboard the Rubicon
with Captain Sisko.
    And in any case, most of those problems simply
got in the way of more serious responsibilities, such
as combing through all the data from the entire
freighter incident, then doing it again in the hope of
finding a clue they'd missed, something that might
shed light on what had happened.
    She glanced once more around Ops, observing the
crew, all of whom were hard at work at their
stations. Thank the Prophets for Dax. Kira had
always been able to rely on Dax, both as a friend and
as a science officer, and she was glad to have her here
now, but she felt an added sense of assurance as she
looked to Worf. She understood what it meant to be
a warrior, a soldier, and to have that be the focus of
your life... for a time. She knew the value of
experience combined with expertise--which, she

decided, was a fair description of DS9's Klingon
Strategic Operations officer. As for the rest of the
officers and personnel, they were some of the best
Starfleet and Bajor had to offer, so there was reason
to hope.
    The station's shields and weapons systems
checked out as fully operational, and for the mo-
ment at least, no one was threatening anyone on or
near DS9. So there were things to be thankful for,
she thought, as she turned her attention back to the
main Ops table.
    Using thrusters, the Rubicon headed toward un-
seen coordinates. Kira watched the runabout grow
smaller as it moved slowly away from the station.
She hadn't felt the urge to wave in years, but the
memory brought a thin smile.
 The intercom chirped. "Security to Major Kira."
 The voice was Odo's.
 "Go ahead, Constable."
    "We've had a disturbance on the Promenade. A
fight broke out between the Aulep and the Rylep, but
my men have it under control. I don't know if there
are any serious injuries, I don't even know who
started it yet, but in the meantime, I wondered if
there was anything special you wanted me to do with
them?"
 "Just confine them to quarters for now."
 "Very well, Major. Odo out."
    "Rubicon to Deep Space Nine," Sisko's voice
broke in.

    "Kira here," she said as the captain's face ap-
peared on the screen.
    "Major, take care of the place. We'll see you when
we get back."
    "Maybe our visitors will be through fighting with
each other by then," Kira replied.
  "Having a little... trouble?" Sisko asked.
    Kira wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh, just a little,"
she said, trying to make light of it. The captain had
enough on his mind right now. "Nothing we can't
handle."
    "Consider it a learning experience," Sisko said,
letting a warm chuckle follow.
    "Of course, neither of us has had enough of
those," Kira said, as the captain's image disap-
peared. She watched the runabout vanished into the
brilliant swirl of the wormhole, seeming to pull the
wormhole after it and leaving only the darkness of
space behind.
    DS9 was Kira's station now, at least for a little
while. She had a feeling she would be happy to hand
it back to Sisko when he returned.

    "We're on the other side of the wormhole," Jake
told Elliena, as the stars filled their view through the
runabout's tall front windows.
    Elliena stared into space as if she were frozen in
place. After a time she blinked and turned to him as
if she had something to say, but she didn't speak.
Jake tried to read her mood. Something like aston-

ishment still filled her eyes, though he thought he
saw a hint of terror there, too. He wasn't sure his
own expression looked any more certain.
    "Pretty amazing trip through the wormhole,
wasn't it?" he said, trying to sound chatty.
    "I've never seen anything like that," Elliena said,
her voice a bit weak, but otherwise steady. She took
a breath. "It is truly the home of the Prophets."
  "Actually, my father helped prove that."
    "The story of the Emissary is often told," Elliena
said.
    Jake nodded. They sat looking at the stars for a
long, silent moment. Jake had learned some time ago
that, especially for him, it was not a good idea to
discuss religion with the Bajorans. Jake didn't think
even his father knew quite where he fit into the
Bajoran faith, or whether the aliens who had con-
structed the wormhole, and still lived within its
strange dimensions, truly saw themselves as the gods
of the Bajorans.
    "I swear I didn't plan this," Jake said, grinning as
she looked at him.
    "I guess, maybe." Elliena returned the grin. She
was playing, or trying to, Jake realized, which under
the circumstances seemed like a good sign.
    "I think we still have main power," he said. He
tapped at the controls on the instrument panel. "I
might be able to bring the engines back online and
maybe get us out of here."
 "Is there anything I can do?"

    "You could watch those power grids," Jake sug-
gested. He saw her eagerness to help as another good
sign. She was trying to cope and doing a pretty good
job of it so far. He felt determined not to let her
down.
    "We're not too badly damaged," Jake said after he
had finished checking the primary systems. "At least
not as far as I can tell. I've got us stabilized for now.
I'll have to get a bearing and plot a course back
through the wormhole, but if the main engines check
out, we should be able to go to warp as soon as Iw"
    The shuttle jumped abruptly, then started shaking
as if a giant hand had reached out and grabbed hold
of it. Startled for a moment, Jake quickly came up
with a better explanation.
    "Another tractor beam," he told Elllena, grabbing
hold of his chair to keep from being thrown from it.
Elliena did the same.
    He turned quickly to the controls and began active
scanning. The display lit up almost instantly. The
beam was easy enough to trace. He felt the bow
coming around, lining up with the path of the beam.
    "I've got its source pinpointed," he said. "What-
ever it is, it should be coming into view in a few
seconds."
    Jake glanced at the image on the external monitor;
it was small and vague but easy enough to identify:
the Klingon freighter. He said nothing as the run-
about rotated slightly to starboard. He didn't want
to alarm Elliena.
  "That looks like the same Klingon freighter that

got us into this mess," she said, her voice rising in
panic.
 "I know," he said. "I'll try hailing them."
    "They didn't seem interested in talking just a little
while ago."
    "I know that, too," Jake said. "But it's worth
trying."
    He opened a channel. "This is Jake Sisko of the
Federation runabout Rio Grande." He tried to think
of the best way to phrase his next question, but he
quickly gave up and kept it simple. "What do you
want?"
    There was no response. Jake hadn't really ex-
pected any. These Klingons had just destroyed one
of their own ships and attacked DS9 before fleeing
through the wormhole.
    The runabout shook harder, turned a few more
degrees, then calmed slightly as Jake released it from
station keeping. He let the tractor beam dictate the
runabout's new heading.
    "Where do you think they're taking us?" Elliena
asked, sounding nervous now. It was already clear
they that were not headed back toward the worm-
hole.
    "I don't know," Jake said. He took her left hand
and held it gently in his. "But we'll be all right, I
know we will." He tried another grin. "Hey, this
isn't the first time I've had to deal with this kind of
thing."
 "What kind of thing?"
 "The unknown," Jake said. "Or worse. There's

usually a way to deal with any situation. We need
time, that's the main thing. Somebody will come
after us sooner or later. All we have to do is stay calm
and in one piece until then. We can do that. I
promise you, Elliena, I won't let anything happen to
you."
    "You don't have to promise," Elliena told him,
looking at him with big round eyes. "And you don't
have to spend all your time trying to comfort me,
either. I may not have much experience with space
travel or with Klingons, but I'm a fast learner. I
know a little something about Cardassians, and I
understand that they aren't all that different from
Klingons, when you get down to it."
    Jake watched her, trying to guess how she meant
all of that--whether he'd made her feel like a child.
He hadn't meant to.
    She seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't worry,"
she said softly, smiling at him now. "I took it the
right way."
 "Good," Jake said with relief.
    The runabout shook again, bringing back thoughts
of the worst, thoughts Jake was trying to banish.
"What I meant was that I feel responsible for getting
you into this. But whatever happens--"
    "I know, and I'm all right," Elliena said. "After
all, I asked to go on a runabout with you, remember?
This was as much my idea as it was yours. But I have
to admit, this is more adventure than I bargained
for."
  "Actually, I take back what I said before, about

how I didn't plan this. Actually, I did plan the whole
thing--just so we could be alone." Jake peeked out
at her from under a lowered brow, hoping to lighten
a grave situation.
    Elliena made a sour face, but then she squeezed
his hand. "You probably did, at that."
    "My father would tell us to look at this as a
learning experience," Jake said.
    'TI1 try. I just hope it isn't the last experience we
ever have."
    Jake looked up again, then gazed out through the
windows. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes
went wide. The ship tractoring them had changed; it
wasn't Klingon anymore.
    "Computer," Jake said, "identify the ship directly
off our bow."
    "Sensor readings inconclusive," the computer re-
plied. "Ship configuration consistent with a Federa-
tion runabout."
    "Even I can see that," Elliena told him, looking
out in shared amazement. "It looks just like the ship
we're on."
    Shaking his head, Jake took a moment to review
the sensor readings. He didn't have enough exper-
tise, he knew that, but from what he could gather,
the sensors weren't picking up the other runabout at
all, at least not in any way he would have expected.
He noticed trace energy readings, just as he had
when the Klingon freighter was there only moments
ago, but nothing else.
 The tractor beam was still attached, however.

There was no question why the helm wasn't an-
swering.
    "Computer, maximum magnification." Jake
glanced at Elliena. "I want to get a closer look at that
ship."
    The image on the runabout's small viewscreen
was replaced by that of a hull at close proximity. The
area that was displayed was small, but part of the
runabout's identification markings were visible.
  "Look," Jake said, pointing.
    Elliena squinted, then shrugged. "I can't read it.
The image is too blurry."
    "I know, but the rest of the image is perfectly
focused."
 "So what's that mean?"
 "I don't know. It's just odd, that's all."
    They sat patiently for a while, watching, worrying
all the more. Jake let the time add up to an hour.
Then he began to feel the full frustration of their
dilemma. He turned toward Elliena, seriously con-
sidering at least one of their options. "We still have
the weapons systems," he whispered, as though the
other runabout might hear him, even though he had
closed all communications channels.
    Elliena looked stricken. "I don't think fighting
that ship is such a good idea, no matter what it looks
like. You saw what happened to the other freighter."
    "I know, but the farther we're dragged away from
the wormhole, the harder it will be for anyone from
the station to find us. We can't just sit here and let
that ship drag us all over the Gamma Quadrant."

    "I suppose not," Elliena complained. "But I defi-
nitely don't want to fight them."
    "Me either. But I've been giving this a lot of
thought. That tractor beam should be an easy target
at this range. With the help of the computer, maybe
we could knock the beam emitter out, then go to
warp before the other ship has time to react. I'd have
to get the engines online and ready first, then lay in a
course and raise the shields."
    "Sounds like something out of one of our stories
about the freedom fighters."
    "I think it's what Major Kira or my father would
do."
  "If you really think so."
    Jake realized all the color had drained from
Elliena's face. She had to be scared half to death, he
knew. He swallowed, deciding he'd have to be brave
enough for both of them. Without another word he
went to work. He wasn't sure he'd be able to
accomplish all the tasks he'd set for himself, but in
just a few minutes he had managed. The only
uncertainty was the course he'd selected, but he
decided even that was close enough.
    "Computer, lock phasers on to the source of that
tractor beam." Jake paused, holding his breath. The
warp engines waited at his fingertips.
    "I guess you know what you're doing, but you can
tell me again if you like," Elliena said evenly.
    He knew what she meant. "Engaging warp en-
gines. Firing phasers--now!"
 Jake watched as the phaser beam lit the darkness,

then passed right through the other runabout. The
tractor beam was still holding. A split second later a
series of energy beams lashed out from the other
ship and struck the Rio Grande's shields. The ship
jumped, then pitched from the impacts of the
beams. The other ship fired again, and half the
instrument consoles flared with excess energy, then
went dark. Jake jabbed chaotically at panels. Noth-
ing worked. Main power was out, along with the
sensors and the weapons systems. He didn't know if
they had any shields left.
    When he looked up, the other runabout was out of
view again, but he knew it was still there, still pulling
at them with its tractor beam. After a few seconds he
decided they probably weren't going to fire again.
  "I guess I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.
    "Another learning experience," Elliena said. She
leaned toward him and put her hand on his.
    Jake looked at her. He knew how she meant that,
too. "All we've learned so far is that I'm too s{upid
to take my own advice."
  "Berating yourself won't help."
 Jake shrugged. "There isn't much else to do."
    "What happened to the guy who told me we'd be
all right?"
  "Oh, he's here somewhere."
  "Go get him. I liked him better."
    Jake took her hand between his. In a way, she was
holding up better than he was. Which he thought
was just fine.

 "I can do that," he said.
    "I know." Elliena smiled at him, a look that made
Jake feel as if he could save the universe. But he
decided to set his sights a bit lower. I won't let you
down, he vowed in silence. He was sure of that
much.
 "So what do we do now?" Elliena asked.
    "We go back to waiting. We're being taken some-
where for some reason. Until we learn more, we
can't make any plans."
    Elliena pursed her lips and nodded; Jake was glad
to see her determined look. They kept hold of each
other's hands and watched the stars appear to drift.
Jake guessed the runabout must be traveling at close
to maximum impulse speed. Then their view
through the windows began to cloud, as if a thick
gaseous curtain were being drawn over the ship.
    "I think we're entering an atmosphere," Elliena
said, peering out the window.
     "I don't think so, at least not any kind of atmos-
phere I'm familiar with. It's like pea soup out there."
  "What kind of soup?"
    "Something my father likes. I'll have him fix you
some when we get back."
    The view beyond the windows grew darker until
nothing at all could be seen. Jake held Elliena's hand
tighter as he continued to peer into the nothingness
outside. He had almost no sensation of motion
anymore and no instruments to inform him of what
his senses could not perceive. What he'd told Elllena

was true: he had faced the unknown before, but
never anything quite like this. He swallowed. I can
handle this, he told himself.
    At length the runabout swayed several times, then
surged, like a boat caught in a sudden storm. Then
the hull bumped into something solid and came to a
stop.

0

CHAPTER
      lO

124

"I'vE GOT A READING, Captain," O'Brien said, glanc-
ing up from his console. "It's pretty faint, but it's
identical to the neutrino trail on our side of the
wormhole."
    "Good," Sisko said. He forced himself to remain
calm and steady. "Lay in a course along its tra-
jectory. Let's see where it takes us." He examined
his own console as he switched scanning modes.
"I'm not picking up anything on the long-range
sensors."
    O'Brien took a moment to look over Sisko's
readings, then compared headings. "No, but it looks
as if this course is going to take us through the
Myalon Corridor."
    Sisko nodded with mild satisfaction as the run-
about came around, then began accelerating to near

maximum warp speeds, leaving the "real" universe
behind. That was something positive, at least.
    O'Brien went on, "I was hoping the Rio Grande
would be sitting here just waiting for us when we
came out of the wormhole."
    "So was I," Sisko said, "but we'll have to take
what we can get, for now."
    "Sir," O'Brien said after a moment, "suppose that
freighter did go into the wormhole after Jake and
Elliena. What do you think the Klingons would want
with a couple of kids and a Starfleet runabout?"
    "We don't know for sure that the Klingons went
after anyone, or even that the captors were Klingons.
We can't assume anything at this point."
    "No, but somebody has those kids, or they'd have
been here. And whoever the captors are, they're
more than just a projection of some kind."
    "When we catch up to them we'll have to ask a few
questions," Sisko said, looking at O'Brien. "Right
after we get Jake and Elliena back."
    The chief didn't ask how Sisko planned to accom-
plish that; Sisko hadn't expected him to. Neither of
them had any specific ideas, he knew, only the
determination and, he hoped, the experience to do
the right thing at the right time. For now they had to
sit back and wait.
    Which was precisely what they did for the next
several hours. They took turns watching the sensor
displays, monitoring the runabout's heading, and
double-checking the computer. The trail they were
following had all but disappeared, but they kept on

course, agreeing that it was the only reasonable
alternative... even though they didn't seem to be
getting results.
    Sisko found himself dreaming, as he rested during
the chief's watch, that O'Brien was waking him up,
telling him he'd found something.
    "I'm getting a contact, maximum range," O'Brien
reported. "Reading a large spherical mass, moving
at nominal speed. Probably that planetoid Dax told
us about."
    Sisko blinked and realized it wasn't a dream at all.
"What's the status of our trail of neutrinos?" he
asked, sitting up, shaking the last vestiges of sleep
from his mind.
    "I've got what I think is the same trail, though
there aren't enough particles to be sure. It seems to
be leading toward the same coordinates. Of course,
it could go right past the planet, just like we're about
to."
    Sisko nodded as he checked the scanning displays.
He verified what O'Brien had told him, but didn't
come up with anything else. He frowned. Where
could Jake and Elliena be?
    "We'll continue on our present course. That
should take us close enough to get a good scan."
    O'Brien nodded, then waited as the distance be-
tween the Rubicon and the contact narrowed, allow-
ing more information to become available. "It's a
spherical planetoid," he said finally. "No orbital
companions, but..." He made a face as he went
silent.

127

    Sisko studied the same readings as they drew to
within full sensor range, and he realized what had
silenced the chief. The readings just didn't make
sense. Could the sensors be malfunctioning?
  "What do you make of it?" Sisko asked.
    "I don't know," the chief said. "According to
these readings, that planet is more biological than
mineral. I'm detecting large amounts of carbon
laced with complex organic compounds."
    "Not exactly the kind of biology I'm familiar
with," Sisko said. "Is it possible we're picking up
surface readings, some sort of plant life, perhaps,
covering the entire surface?"
    "The overall biomass is too great for that. That
thing is only three-quarters the size of Earth's moon.
Even if it was completely covered with vegetation,
that wouldn't be enough to account for this much
organic substance. Besides, there isn't any sun to
keep the planetoid warm enough for life as we know
it to exist to exist on its surface. Thermal vents could
account for some of it the plant life, but again, we'd
be talking isolated pockets."
    "We're going to investigate a little further," Sisko
said. "If that planetoid has a surface, Jake may have
landed there."
 "Or been taken there."
Sisko nodded heavily, thinking the same thing.
As the planetoid came into view, Sisko and
O'Brien continued to analyze the sensor data. Only
new questions arose.

    "I'm not detecting any life-forms on the surface,"
O'Brien reported. "Just dense gas--hydrogen,
methane, ammonia. It's a pretty nasty place."
    "And there's no trace of the Rio Grande," Sisko
said grimly. He hesitated. His every instinct said to
check out the planetold. But what if he was wrong?
    "Captain, if Jake and Elliena crashed down there,
they wouldn't have lasted very long," O'Brien said,
only stating the obvious. "The slightest breach in
their hull would have done them in." Then, as if to
offer his captain some hope, he continued, "On the
other hand, it takes quite a bit of doing to breach one
of these hulls."
    "I know. Thanks, Chief," Sisko said with a wry
smile. Then he changed the subject: "Any change in
the neutrino trail?"
    "Too diffuse to follow, but from what I can tell, it
hasn't varied from its course since we started track-
ing it. We could continue on our projected course."
"I agree."
    "For all we know, this may be as far as the
neutrino trail goes, and there may not be anything
out here other than that little planet. Before we run
off, though, I think we should make absolutely
certain nothing's there."
    Sisko nodded. "Plot a search grid. We'll reconfig-
ure the sensors for optimum penetration of the
atmosphere, then try to cover every inch of that
planet."
    'TII set the computer for the widest possible
parameters, but we'll have to keep watch for about

128                                                               129

three hours. The runabout might not be the only
thing down there, and if that's the case, well, we
don't know what else we're likely to find."
    Sisko put the Rubicon into a low orbit around the
planetoid while O'Brien initiated the computer-
guided search pattern. Multiple fluctuating energy
signatures began to register almost at once, but they
were too numerous and random to allow O'Brien
and Sisko to speculate. They would just have to wait.

    After more than two hours, the sensors had identi-
fied dozens of increasingly active EM impulse clus-
ters scattered all through the sphere, but there was
still no sign of the runabout, Sisko thought with
increasing frustration. Had they been wasting their
time?
    Sisko watched an especially active pulse work its
way across hundreds of kilometers of surface in a
strangely erratic zigzag pattern, then plunge straight
down into the planet. A second later another small
cluster of pulses raced along nearly the same path, as
if chasing the first, then vanished at nearly the same
spot. There was no way of knowing whether the
pulses kept going through the interior of the planet,
but he had a hunch that they did.
    "Can you make anything of that?" he asked, after
he and O'Brien had watched half a dozen smaller
plasma trails scurry across the sensor displays and
vanish into the depths of the clouded surface below.
    O'Brien shook his head. "No, sir, nothing definite.
But my guess is they're electrical storms of some

130

kind. They'd have to be, though I've never seen
storms act quite like this, and the patterns don't fit
any known phenomenon in the computer records."
    "It does remind me of something, though," Sisko
reflected, resting his chin on his right hand as he
continued to stare at the consoles. What was it? If
only he wasn't so worried about Jake.
 O'Brien waited a moment. "Of what?"
    "That's just it, I don't remember. But it'll come to
me."
    The external warning klaxon suddenly began
buzzing. O'Brien instantly began studying the tacti-
cal displays. "I'm barely reading anything, but there
is something out there," he reported.
    Sisko logged the coordinates, then put the image
on the viewscreen. "It's another ship," he said.
"And it's making a fast approach."
    "I can't get any identification," O'Brien said. "But
my guess is we've found that phantom Klingon
freighter again."
    "Or it's found us. In any case, the approaching
ship is too big to be the Rio Grande."
    "I agree," O'Brien said grimly. "Whoever it is,
they're doing zero point nine nine light-speed, but
I'm not reading any impulse drive signature."
    "All right," Sisko said, as a sense of uneasy
satisfaction quickened his pulse. "Shields up. Let's
not give them any opportunities."
    Sisko tapped his screen controls to magnify the
image in an attempt to see full detail, but at first
there wasn't any. The huge vessel blurred before his

eyes, and then hard lines began to emerge, revealing
that this ship was considerably smaller than the last
one. What finally emerged was a Federation run-
about--but it wasn't the Rio Grande.
    "It looks like the Rubicon, "O'Brien said, shaking
his head. "In fact, it's practically identical. Other-
wise it reads the same as the second Klingon freight-
er did back at the station."
 "No solid mass," Sisko said.
 "Aye. Only very faint energy readings."
 "It's there... but it isn't."
 "Yes, sir. And it's heading straight toward us."

CHAPTER
      11

"You CAN'T BE SERIOUS?' Kira said, planting both
hands on her hips and glaring at the Tellarite trader
standing before her on the Promenade.
    "I can be anything you want me to be," the alien
replied, tilting his bearded face to one side, wrin-
kling his snout and bushy eyebrows, as if he were
sni~ng at her.
    "Okay, how about being a gentleman?" Kira made
sure he read the aggravation in her voice.
    "If you prefer, but the unfortunate fact is that I
will be on Deep Space Nine for only a very short
time, and I have never engaged in any form of
mating behavior with a Bajoran woman. And, as I
mentioned, I have been told by many that you are as
fine a specimen as I am likely to find."
 Kira rolled her eyes. She had spent the morning

putting out "fires" all over the station. The trouble-
some situations had ranged from a suspected contra-
band cargo on a transport that had just docked to a
medical emergency involving a small fleet of
runabout-size ships with crew members who were
sick with an unknown fever for which Dr. Bashir
had so far been unable to devise a treatment. To add
to her problems, repairs of the damage caused by the
Klingon freighter explosion were going slowly, caus-
ing a cascade of other delays.
    And now she was being propositioned by a... a
pig!
  But enough was enough.
    She leaned toward the Tellarite, dropping her air
of abashment and wrinkling her own nose, adding a
sniff as she scowled at him. The smell of some
pungent, sour herb was apparently emanating from
every pore in his thick skin. "I do appreciate the
compliment," she said. "And as this is your first
visit, I want to assure you that it is my intention as
acting commander of this station to make every-
one's stay here as comfortable and... amicable as
possible, but I must offer just one warning."  "Of course!"
    "If you ever put your hands on me again"--she
glanced down, checking his extremities--"I will
personally--"
    "Confine you to your ship," Odo finished from
just behind her. She turned and looked at him
steadily, holding her tongue.

    "I'm sure that's what you were going to say," Odo
added.
    "That is exactly what I was going to say," Kira
said through clenched teeth.
    "Of course," Odo said. Then he turned a harsh eye
to the Tellarite. "Now, move along."
 "I don't like threats," the visitor said.
 Odo smiled at him. "I don't make threats."
    At this, the Tellarite did as he'd been told. Kira
gave a low snort. All bluster and no bite, she
decided. Just as well; she had enough on her hands
right now.
    "Thanks, Odo," Kira said with a sigh. "It's barely
noon, and I'm ready to rip people's heads off."
    "I know the feeling, Major. I'm glad I could help. I
was looking for you for a reason, though. A group of
Bajoran university students would like to spend a
day touring the station. They're asking if they can
come tomorrow."
 "Tomorrow?" Kira balked.
    "Under the circumstances I suggested that they
postpone their visit for a few days, at least until we
complete repairs and settle this Rylep-Aulep situa-
tion."
    "I agree. I don't think we've even got docking
space for them right now. And we still don't know
why we were attacked by that vanishing Klingon
freighter. For all we know, it might even come back.
The Klingons themselves haven't responded to our
requests for information."
  "So I've heard," Odo said.

134                                                                135

 Kira's comm badge chirped once.
 "Ops to Major Kira." It was Dax.
 "Go ahead."
    "We need you up here right away. We've got more
company coming."
    Kira took a breath, held it. How bad could it be?
she kidded herself halfheartedly.
 "I'll be right there."

    As Kira entered Ops, she heard Commander
Worf's deep voice: "Identity confirmed."
    That's a good start, she thought. "Status?" she
asked.
 "Two ships approaching at warp speed," Dax said.
 "Put them on the screen," Kira said.
    "Both are Klingon, a Bird of Prey and a Vor'cha-
class attack cruiser," Worf continued. "They are
dropping to impulse, and both have shields up."
  Kira eyed the screen. "Are their weapons armed?"
  Worf ran the scan. "Not yet."
  "Assume an identical posture," Kira ordered.
  "They're hailing us," Dax said.
    Kira nodded. The image of the two vessels on the
screen was suddenly replaced by the dark, bearded
face of a stocky middle-aged Klingon.
    "I am Drokas," the commander said. "I have been
sent by the High Council to determine precisely
what has happened to our freighter. I will hear your
explanation now."
  "I assure you, Commander," Kira told him, "we

would like an explanation as well. We don't have
one. Perhaps you can help us find the answers."
    "And I can assure you, Major, I did not come here
to be played with. Gowron will not be pleased with
anything less than the truth."
    Kira nodded. She had a feeling that the truth,
whatever it was, wouldn't make Gowron any happi-
er. "We are still trying to determine what hap-
pened," she said. "Can you tell us what mission your
freighters were on, where they might have come
from, and what sort of special technologies the
second freighter was utilizing? I wasn't aware you
were outfitting cargo vessels with an experimental
cloaking device."
    "Enough!" Drokas snarled, glaring at her. "You
are speaking nonsense. There was but one freighter,
and it had no special technologies. I do not know
what your game is, Major, but I have no intention of
playing it."
    Kira considered the possibility that Drokas really
didn't know much more than she did. She tried to
think of an approach that wouldn't make her look
like a fool but would keep the Klingon commander
talking. She considered letting Worf handle the
situation, but she'd started this, and she wanted to
finish it. In any case, Commander Worf and the
House of Gowron were not on the best of terms. No,
she decided, it was best to keep things open and
honest.
  "I'll make you a deal, Drokas. You tell me what

you know, and I'll tell you what I know--which, I'll
warn you, isn't much. No nonsense, no games. We
didn't do anything to your ships, and we're just as
concerned as you are."
    Drokas looked at her from the screen for a long
moment, moving his eyes only slightly; then he took
a shallow breath. "We received a distress call from
Captain Dolras of the freighter Toknor. He indicated
they were under attack at Deep Space Nine. Then we
lost the signal. We scanned the debris near this
station, and we know it came from the Toknor."
    Kira nodded briskly. "Your freighter came
through the wormhole from the Gamma Quadrant.
It was followed moments later by another, identical
Klingon freighter. The Toknor was already heavily
damaged; then the second freighter destroyed it.
After that it just... disappeared. We think it may
have gone back through the wormhole, but we have
no way of knowing for sure."
    "Freighters do not disappear," Drokas snapped,
the sound of rage coloring his voice.
    Kira explained the unusual sensor readings, or the
lack of them, and the way the second freighter had
faded until it vanished like a ghost into nothingness.
    "A fascinating story, Major, but Klingons do not
believe in ghost ships," Drokas said, frowning. "I
believe none of this!"
  "She is telling the truth," Worf said.
    "Ahh, now I am to believe a traitor," Drokas
replied to Worf directly, narrowing his eyes. The two

Klingons glared at each other. Kira glanced at Dax,
who shook her head discreetly.
    "We can make our sensor logs available to you,"
Kira said. "You can see for yourselfi"
    "Sensor logs can be manufactured almost as easily
as your stories," Drokas said. "Tell me, Major, why
you sent one of your runabouts through the worm-
hole almost immediately after the destruction of our
freighter."
    Kira didn't know how Drokas knew, but she was
certain that lately the Klingon Empire had been
keeping a close eye on DS9, much as the Cardassians
had. She took a deep breath. "That information isn't
relevant."
    "Ah, but it might be, Major," Drokas said with a
sudden slight grin, a predatory look that offered no
comfort. "If some of the crew escaped the Toknor in
life pods before it was destroyed, then went back
through the wormhole, your runabout could have
been sent to finish the job so the survivors could not
talk."
    "The runabout is part of a rescue mission," Kira
said, putting an equal measure of sarcasm in her
own voice now. "There were civilians lost in the
attack whom we are attempting to locate. Bajoran
and Federation civilians, not Klingons. But we're
still talking about what I know. You haven't told me
about the Toknor's mission."
    "And I will not!" Drokas shouted, leaning forward
in his chair. The shadows deepened between the

139

nages on h~s torehead. "It is of no consequence.
There was no second Klingon ship, ghost or real, and
we both know it. I do not believe your report, Major,
and neither will Gowron. He is not amused by either
Federation treachery or Bajoran lies. When he hears
of this, you will realize the gravity of your error."
    With a violent wave of his hand toward one of his
officers, Drokas broke contact.
    Kira looked first to Worf, then to Dax. Neither of
them had any comment.
    "Well, I tried," Kira said heavily. Why were things
always so complicated?
    She turned back to Worf. "Keep those shields up,
Commander. And you'd better power up some of
our phasers, just in case."
    "That may not be necessary," Wolf replied, tap-
ping at his consoles, observing the results. "Both
cruisers are engaging thrusters. They are moving
off."
  Kira breathed a little easier.
    "It's unlikely that they will just give up," Dax
said.
    Kira nodded in agreement, but as she looked at
the main screen she understood. The Klingons
weren't giving up. They planned to check out her
story for themselves. She watched as the two Kling-
on warships came slowly about, then moved toward
the wormhole's coordinates, causing it to materia-
lize. A moment later both ships vanished.
    "Just as well," Worf grumbled, frowning at the
screen as the brightly swirling wormhole vanished.

 "Perhaps," Kira reflected. "But not necessarily."
    "Major, Dr. Baslair would like to see you as soon
as possible," Dax said.
 Kira looked up. "What now?"
    "Security has just reported another brawl on the
Promenade," Worf said. "I suspect it may have
something to do with the earlier fight."
    Kira was already heading for the turbolift. "You're
probably right. Tell him I'll be right there."

    She found Odo waiting for her in the infirmary.
Just as she'd suspected, the Aulep and the Rylep had
gotten out of their quarters and gone at it again. This
time, however, the fight had grown big enough and
gone far enough to leave a legacy of injuries ranging
from concussions to broken bones. Unfortunately,
some of the casualties were visiting traders and
station security personnel.
    "I've treated most of the injured," Bashir told her,
stepping away from his medical consoles. The ex-
pression on his young, slender face lacked its usual
enthusiasm. In fact, Kira thought, he looked down-
right annoyed.
    "We had quite a time at first, trying to keep the
combatants separated. It's a little difficult to tell
Aulep and Rylep apart when you're in a hurry."
  "I'm sure it is," Kira said.
    "So," the doctor went on, "should I expect many
more casualties?"
    Kira shrugged. "I hope not. But then, I didn't
think we'd end up in this situation to begin with."

140                                                                141

    "I've tightened security considerably, Doctor,"
Odo said, his smooth, molded face utterly neutral.
"Things should stay quiet for a while."
    Kira looked around the infirmary. The injured lay
on biobeds, some of them under scanners that
covered nearly half their torsos. The whole situation
with these visitors had gotten out of hand; it could
no longer await attention. "I want to see the Rylep
and Aulep commanders in the conference room in
one hour, provided they are able. Quark, too."
  Odo nodded.
    "We're going to settle this," Kira said, "one way or
another."

 "Thieves!"
 "Murderers!"
    "Somehow I don't think we're making any real
progress," Kira said, interrupting the all-too-fa-
miliar exchange between Dorram and Flenn.
 "He is intractable," Flenn said of Dorram.
    "He is intractable!" Dorram snarled back. He had
a sizable bruise over his right eye, and Flenn was
favoring one entire side of his body. Kira wondered
briefly what the extent of their injuries had been
before Dr. Bashir worked on the two of them.
    "What you both must realize," she went on nobly,
"is that neither of you will be allowed to leave this
station--or your secured quarters, for that matter--
until we make some kind of lasting progress here.
You must put aside your differences, start fresh, and
look for solutions instead of problems." She had

142

been rehearsing this speech for the past hour, hoping
to appeal to their better nature. She wasn't certain
how small a target she was aiming for.
    "In other words," Odo said, following Kira's
request that he jump in anywhere he could, "try
calling it even."
    "Even?" Flenn said, his round eyes getting
rounder.
    Dorram and Flenn stared at each other as if aglow
in the light of sudden revelation.
    "Yes," Odo said, glancing at Kira, "even if you
don't want to?'
    "I think the major and Odo are making sense,"
Quark added, nodding agreeably but proving to be
of little help otherwise.
    Kira opened her mouth to speak, but the chirp of
her corem badge cut her off.
 "Kira here," she answered.
    "Major," the voice of Commander Worf came
back, "you are needed in Ops again."
    "Now what?" Kira moaned. "I'm in the middle of
a meeting, Commander."
    "Several unidentified ships are coming through
the wormhole. We are attempting to hail them. No
response as yet."
    "I see," Kira said, already starting toward the
conference room door. She paused and turned a cold
eye on Flenn, Dorram, and Quark, who were staring
at her, closemouthed.
    "I don't suppose any of you have anything you'd
like to say?"

All three heads moved slowly from side to side.
"I didn't think so," Kira said, moving staunchly
toward the door. "You'll excuse me," she finished,
and let the door slip shut behind her.
  She arrived in Ops a moment later.
    "We are detecting three ships decelerating toward
the station," Worf reported. "Similar but unknown
configurations. Still no response to our hails."
    Kira watched the screen as it filled with the images
of the approaching vessels. These were nearly twice
the size of the Aulep and Rylep ships, but much
cruder in appearance. Nevertheless, Dax confirmed
that the drive sections were of the same type.
    Slowly, weapons systems armed, the three ships
took up offensive positions around DS9, placing the
station within a precisely measured triangle.
    "They seem to be targeting the station's core area
and the visiting Aulep and Rylep vessels," Worf
reported.
    "Opinions?" Kira asked, glancing from station to
station.
    "I'd say they're some sort of all-purpose vessel,"
Dax responded, "passenger or freight, though from
what I can read of their holds, they aren't carrying
much of either. Otherwise we're looking at some
pretty basic equipment. And they're slow, no more
than warp four or five, I would guess."
    "Each ship has a single large disrupter-type weap-
on," Worf pointed out. "I estimate all the ships'
energy resources must be used to fire their weapons,
but together they have sufficient firepower to pose a

serious threat, unless of course we neutralize them
first."
 "Major, they're hailing," Dax said.
    "Good," Kira said. "Let's find out what they
want."
    The face on the screen was humanoid and appar-
ently male. Vivid green eyes, a wide jaw, and a thin,
straight nose completed his gaunt features. A floppy
hat made of soft, dark material covered most of his
head, and long grayish hair hung down around his
shoulders. His thin, slightly wrinkled neck disap-
peared abruptly into a stiff, seamless collar deco-
rated with gold piping.
 "I am Bedal, of the Beshiel Second Realm."
    "Major Kira Nerys of Bajor, acting commander of
Deep Space Nine."
    The alien wasn't impressed. "We expect your full
cooperation, or the consequences will be dire and
immediate."
    "This is getting a bit monotonous," Dax remarked
half under her breath.
 "Cooperation in what?" Kira asked.
 "You know very well," Bedal replied.
    Kira tried to shake off the annoyance that was
beginning to cloud her thoughts. "I am afraid I do
not," she replied, speaking each word slowly and
clearly.
    "We have come for our stolen trellium crystals,
and we will not leave without them."
    "The Aulep's crystals?" Kira asked, somewhat
astonished.

    "Or the Rylep's crystals, depending on whose
story you wish to believe," Worf reminded her.
    "They belong to us!" Bedal insisted quite angrily.
"As does vengeance for the crimes committed
against all Beshiel by those to whom you have
chosen to grant sanctuary."
    "Of course." Kira looked away from the screen.
What would Captain Sisko do under these circum-
stances? She decided to start over. Steadily she
began, "We have granted sanctuary to no one. We
are a neutral station. You are in Bajoran space,
however, and you will be held accountable for your
actions."
    "And what of these thieves you harbor? Who will
hold them responsible for their actions?"
    "Suppose you explain your accusations," Kira
said as gently as possible. "We need to understand
the situation in order to act responsibly, and we
know almost as little about the Aulep and the Rylep
as we know about you."
    "A cultural exchange will have to wait until a
more appropriate time," Bedal replied. "As to our
mission here, I can explain quickly enough. Our
system is rich in minerals, a fact that is well known
in our region of the galaxy. These resources have
helped us prosper for centuries, but we work very
hard to extract and refine those riches." He indi-
cated the Aulep and Rylep ships. "Some, like the
criminals you are currently protecting on your sta-
tion, would take an easier route."
 "You have proof of this?"

 "We do."
    "One moment, please," Kira said. She motioned
for Dax to mute the channel, then tapped her corem
badge. "Kira to Odo." She waited only a second
before she received Odo's response. "Get Quark and
those other two up here on the double."
"It will be my pleasure, Major," Odo replied.
With the channel open again she turned once
more to the Beshiel. "I'm not sure what you plan to
do now," she began, "but let me offer a possible
course--"
    "We intend to get our crystals back and see these
thieves brought to justice. Failing that, we intend to
see them destroyed, and you along with them. You
leave us no other choice in the matter." Bedal
sounded as if the moment's respite had fired his fury
still further. Or perhaps, Kira speculated, he was
attempting to screen his fears.
    "Again I assure you that we had nothing to do
with creating your problems, and we are willing to
attempt to help solve them... somehow. But I
would like to work this out peaceably, Bedal. All of
us: you, me, the Aulep, and the Rylep."
    "Why should we trust you?" Bedal said, sounding
not the least bit conciliatory. "We have followed
these thieves for days, hoping to find out who their
buyers were, so that we could stop them. We thought
we had lost them until we learned of the wormhole.
Now finally we find them here under your protec-
tion. The Aulep and Rylep ships outrun us, in battle
their weapons are superior to ours, and their raids

                                    147
                liJs,,,,,l~[,,, ~,. s, ....

outwit our security time and again. Recently they
have somehow managed to capture one of our own
ships, and have used it to get close to us and our
outposts with impunity. When we finally determine
the ship is not a genuine Beshiel, they attack. One of
our ships has been completely destroyed along with
its full crew! It is possible that you are the buyers and
would do or say anything to keep your options
open."
    "I can see how you'd feel that way," Kira told
him. "But surely we can all sit down together and
work this out."
    "I do not think so," Bedal said calmly. "If the
Aulep or the Rylep promise anything, they will break
that promise. If they go away, they will come back.
The solution must be a permanent one. An example
must be made, and their buyers must be eliminated.
We must act here and now! Their friends are our
enemies. And until I have proof to the contrary, we
must consider you their friends!"
    The turbolift reached Ops. Kira watched as
Quark, Flenn, and Dorram stepped off and were
ushered ahead by Odo. By the time they reached
Kira's side it was clear to her that Flenn and Dorram
recognized the face that appeared on the main
viewscreen. They looked about to choke.
"Destroy them immediately!" Flenn shouted.
"Before it is too late!" Dorram added in haste.
"There are three ships out there," Kira replied,
"all from the Beshiel Second Realm. Are you sug-
gesting I destroy all three of them, or should I take

their advice and let them do as they wish with the
two of you?"
 "Destroy all three ships!" Flenn cried out.
 "Yes, all of them!" Dorram said.
    "Well, it's nice to see they can finally agree on
something," Odo said.
    Kira fixed first Flenn and then Dorram with a
penetrating stare. "It's not that simple," she said.
"You see, they have an interesting story to tell. They
say you've taken advantage of them." "Hardly!" Flenn insisted.
    "Don't listen to them," Dorram said. "They are
treacherous. They have gone so far as to build ships
that look like ours in order to attack us with impun-
ity!"
"And they build ships like ours!" Flenn said.
"Now you accuse us of your own tricks," Bedal
snarled from the screen. "But your kind are always
lying, and of course you are both lying now!"
    "Major," Worf said, looking up from his tactical
station. "Another ship is approaching from Federa-
tion space; it is about to drop out of warp. Incoming
message... they are demanding permission to
dock."
    "Demanding?" Dax repeated, raising an eyebrow
to Worf.
    "In the name of the Prophets!" Kira said. Would
this nightmare never end? "What now?"
    "I have identification," Worf replied. "It is a
Ferengi Marauder."
 Kira felt the tension in her forehead turning into a

148                                                                  149

terrific headache. "Ferengi?" she said. She spun
around to face Quark. "Would you care to specu-
late?" she asked, taking a step toward him, changing
her expression to one of extreme... sincerity.
  Quark swallowed hard. "Well..." he began.
    "Let me guess," Odo said. "They're the buyers,
right?"
    Quark, Kira thought, seemed suddenly to grow
just a bit shorter. Slowly he began to nod.
    "That's something I didn't need to hear," Kira
muttered. She had thought that the many years she'd
spent risking her life fighting in the Bajoran under-
ground had prepared her for almost anything, but
she had never imagined a day quite like this one.
"Very well," she said dully. "Let's open a channel."
    "I'm putting DaiMon Klarn, the commander of
the Ferengi ship, on the main viewscreen," Dax said.
    Kira waved a limp hand at the screen, then
watched as the bumpy forehead and large ears of the
Marauder's commander appeared. He looked irate.
    "Welcome to Deep Space Nine," Kira began. "I
am Major Kira Nerys, acting commander--"
    "I demand to talk to Quark!" Klarn said, nearly
growling as he cut Kira off.
    "Major, the Ferengi have raised their shields,"
Worf informed her.
    Kira snatched a breath. "You know, I never get to
finish my introductions lately." She turned to where
Quark had been a moment ago, only to see he wasn't
there anymore. She scanned the rest of Ops and

150

finally spotted him standing directly behind Com-
mander Worf, just out of sight of the screen.
    "Very well, DaiMon Klarn," Kira began. "As a
matter of fact, I'd like nothing better than--"
    "I did not ask to talk to you, female," Klarn
interrupted again, scowling condescendingly, show-
ing Kira a mouthful of uneven, pointed teeth. "I
asked for Quark!"
    With that Klarn pounded one fist on the arm of
his command chair. Then he leaned forward. "We
are already two days behind schedule, and still
Quark sends messages that ask us to wait even
longer. I do not know what problems exist, for
Quark or for anyone else, and I do not care. I am
tired of delays and excuses, and I will tolerate not
one more. Do I make myself clear? Now, where is
he!"
    "Wetting his pants," Dax said under her breath.
Kira glanced at her, and a small fraction of the
moment's burdens seemed to go away. Then she
looked back to the screen.
    "DaiMon Klarn, we are busy here at the moment,
as you can dearly see. Or perhaps you are unaware
that the three Beshiel ships circling the station with
you have their weapons armed and trained on us and
are apparently about to attempt to destroy the
station and everyone in its vicinity. Possibly includ-
ing you. Now, I'm sure all your problems with
Quark can be worked out. However, you need to give
us time to settle the Beshiel matter first."

    "No, I don't think so," Klarn said. Kira noticed
that he was beginning to fidget now, his eyes and
fingers restless. "I have waited a long time for a truly
profitable opportunity such as this one. That is why I
am here. And I do not intend to listen to more lies or
to wait any longer. If you are having difficulties with
other races, that does not concern me in the least. I
will not be kept from my merchandise another
moment!"
    "We cannot afford to drop our shields long enough
to allow you to dock or to transport any merchan-
dise you might be owed," Kira stated flatly. "In case
you haven't noticed, there is a small fleet of ships
prepared to open fire on us." She locked stares with
Klarn again. "And I don't think you want to take
that kind of risk, do you? It is in your best interest to
let me try to resolve that situation before dealing
with yours."
    "If I have to open fire on these Beshiel friends of
yours to get to my crystals, I'll do it!" Klarn came
back. "Don't think I won't!"
    Kira stood silent as the Ferengi commander
turned and gave the order to train the Marauder's
formidable weapons on the Beshiel. Then Klarn
looked at Kira through the screen again, but contin-
ued speaking to his own crew.
    "Hail the Beshiel," he said. He paused, then took
a breath. "I am DaiMon Klarn of the Ferengi," he
told them. "You will stand down at once. We are
here to take delivery of a shipment of crystals. We
have no part in your quarrel, but I am not a tolerant

man, and I have no time for delays. As soon as we
are gone, you can do what you want to whomever
you want, but until then, anyone who interferes with
my mission will suffer the most dire consequences!"
    "I'm afraid the Beshiel's quarrel may have more
to do with you than you think," Kira said humor-
lessly.
 "Explain," Klarn demanded.
    Kira and Odo looked at each other, as did Dax
and Worf. Then all four of them deferred to Quark,
who--with a strong assist from one of Worf's large
hands--reluctantly stumbled into the open. He
raised his eyes to the viewscreen.
    "Quark, is that you?" Klarn boomed, leaning
forward again in his chair, his wide, grooved nose
nearly filling the screen. Quark nodded.
    "Finally!" Klarn said. "Now, where are my crys-
tals!"
    "It seems..." Quark said, his voice starting to
crack, "it seems there's a small... problem."

CHAPTER
      12

"ANY LIFE SIGNS.9" Sisko asked, studying the image of
the newly arrived phantom Rubicon, which was
closing in on them.
    "Negative," O'Brien said. "Nothing recognizable,
and no hull echoes, just faint energy traces."
    Sisko checked their stats. They were maintaining a
high orbit around the slowly spinning planetoid, but
they hadn't had time to do an extensive investiga-
tion of the sphere itself. And it looked as if they
might not get the chance.
    "We must consider them hostile," Sisko said. "We
still don't know why that look-alike Klingon freight-
er fired on the Toknor, so we have to assume this
runabout double might fire on us."
 "I don't think starting a fight with them is a good

idea," O'Brien said. "We should think about leaving
orbit and going to warp."
"Do you think that phantom ship can follow us?"
O'Brien drew a long breath. "I don't have a clue as
to how that shipmif it is a ship--is maintaining
impulse speeds, let alone whether it's capable of
warp."
    "I'll bet we're going to find out," Sisko muttered.
"But if they can make warp, running won't solve
anything." He thumbed his chin as he gazed out the
window, considering. "Let's try to outmaneuver
them without leaving orbit."
     "By keeping the planetold between us and them?"
O'Brien asked. "Yes."
 "I'm all for that."
    "Good. Now let's take her down," Sisko said.
"We'll skim the ionosphere just enough to create a
charged particle trail. I want to compare our wake to
theirs."
    "Shields at maximum," O'Brien said. "Power
optimal. This maneuver shouldn't be difficult. We
could even duck into the atmosphere if we have to.
Adjusting the shield geometry should only take a
minute."
    With a nod Sisko turned his attention to the
controls and eased the runabout into a slow descent.
Within seconds they had entered the thin wisps of
hydrogen and ammonia that constituted the planet-
oid's upper atmosphere. He watched the monitors
carefully, studying the result as heat from the fric-

tion of contact left a swirling blaze of color trailing
the runabout in a slowly dissipating stream. Charged
ion particles, excited by the runabout, left a clear
sensor trail as well.
    Sisko nudged the helm to port, then to starboard,
then back again. He tensed as the second runabout
followed along, shadowing them--but as it entered
the atmosphere, almost no trail formed. Sensors
showed almost no reaction of any kind. He frowned.
A phantom ship indeed.
    "They're matching us precisely," O'Brien said.
"Speed, angle, pitch, and they're keeping exactly two
hundred thousand kilometers between them and
US."
    "I'm going to go back to a higher orbit and cutting
our speed," Sisko said, working the helm controls.
He didn't feel like playing tag all day long. "Maybe
it's time we tried to find out what they want." He
waited until the Rubicon was again in a standard
orbit, then cut their speed by half.
    "The other ship is slowing down, matching or-
bits," O'Brien reported. He tried hailing them again,
but as Sisko expected, the phantom runabout made
no reply.
    Sisko rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. He slowed
again, letting their orbit slip once more, just a bit.
And again the second runabout did the same. The
two ships continued to track across the sky without
incident for several minutes.
    "At least they haven't powered up their weapons,"
O'Brien said. "None that we can read, anyway."

    "Which is one reason why I'm beginning to won-
der whether we should worry about them right now.
They haven't done anything provocative, they won't
answer our hails, they aren't attempting to commu-
nicate with us--hell, we don't even have a clue as to
who or what they are. But they don't seem to pose
any immediate threat, and we have a lot of work to
do. I suggest we get to it."
 "That simple, eh?" O'Brien said, adding a grin.
 Sisko shrugged. "Maybe."
    "I say they're not answering because there isn't
anything there. Nothing real, I mean."
    Sisko nodded. "Go back to scanning the plane-
toid. We'll just keep an eye on the runabout double
for now."
    O'Brien did as he was told. Sisko took the ship to
an optimal sensor orbit, all the while continuing to
observe their strange companion. In just a few
minutes O'Brien started talking to himself.
    "Would you like to share?" Sisko asked him,
letting a look of amusement show.
    "I would," O'Brien said. "Two things, as a matter
of fact. But first I want to try changing course to a
polar orbit, then coming back around in line with
the equator."
    "Very well." He made the course correction.
"Why are we doing this?"
"If it's all the same, I'll let you know in a minute."
Sisko trusted O'Brien both as a friend and as an
engineermhe had ever since the two had first gotten
to know each other while turning a very Cardassian

Deep Space Nine into a station that they could live
with. He knew how lucky he was to have gotten
Miles O'Brien to leave the U.S.S. Enterprise and sign
on with DS9. If O'Brien had a hunch, Sisko would
indulge him.
      They passed over the pole, then returned to their
original orbit, picking up where they had left off.
  "Strange," O'Brien said.
"You'd better say more than that, Chief."
O'Brien cleared his throat. "Sir, what we seem to
have is exactly what it looks like--a miniature gas
giant, which pretty much contradicts anything I
know about cosmology. The planetoid's core is
generating more heat than it should, given its mass.
And then there's the atmosphere. A body that size
can't generate a strong enough gravitational field to
retain an atmosphere this dense. And I can't begin to
explain all those plasma eddies we've been
watching."
    "So it might be worth sending a science team to
investigate, after we get back to the station," Sisko
said.
    "Well, that's not all," O'Brien continued. "Those
eddies are made up of some pretty intense electro-
magnetic fields. They seem to occur in a generally
random pattern, which would indicate a natural
condition, but there are repeated spikes, and the
level and pattern of the spikes don't seem natural to
me."
 Sisko was listening intently now. "Explain."

    "The more maneuvering we and that ghost ship
do, the more the plasma activity within the sphere
increases. The two seem to coincide precisely, and
I've already ruled out sensor echo."
"Can we get a fix on the source of those spikes?"
"I've been trying," O'Brien said. "The source
shifts randomly almost every time a surge falls off. I
do have an approximate fix on something else,
though. There's a growing source of concentrated
low-band electrostatic activity, like a forcefield try-
ing to organize. It's begun to show up on the thermal
plane between the upper atmosphere and the first
really dense layer of gas."
    O'Brien seemed reluctant to jump to any conclu-
sions, and Sisko felt the same way; certainly they
had both run into stranger anomalies in this galaxy,
and what they were picking up didn't necessarily
have anything to do with Jake and Elliena. But at the
moment they didn't have much else to go on, and
Sisko had to be sure his son wasn't here before he
could leave. "How big an area is involved?"
    "The field is about one-point-three kilometers in
diameter, but it's growing. I'm thinking that the
runabout we have following us could be a projection
of some kind, possibly originating from the energy
wave source down there. But so far I haven't seen
any evidence of projection devices or beamed parti-
cles."
    "And none of that explains that phantom Klingon
freighter."

  "No, I don't suppose it does."
    Sisko checked the results of their first full scan of
the planetoid. There was no sign of the Rio Grande,
and even if it had gone down here, there was almost
no chance that anyone would still be alive on board,
or that rescuers could reach them. It was the worst
thought he'd had since arriving in the Gamma
Quadrant. Quickly he pushed it away. Jake and
Elliena couldn't be dead.
    A more likely possibility was that they were adrift
somewhere in the vast ocean of night or that they
had been found and taken by whoever or whatever
was responsible for these phantom spacecraft.
Whether the planetoid or its anomalies had a con-
nection to their disappearance or not, Sisko felt he
wasn't getting any closer to the answers.
    "Let's try another tack," he said. "I'm going to
take her out of orbit. Then I'd like to pay our
companions on the other runabout a visit."
    "I'd advise against beaming over there," O'Brien
said. "You're likely to beam yourself out into empty
space."
    Sisko grinned. "Thanks, Chief, but I wasn't plan-
ning on it."
    Taking the controls once more, Sisko engaged the
impulse engines, and the Rubicon broke out of orbit,
then moved into open space. Just as expected, the
second runabout followed.
    "Reading, Chief?." Sisko asked, as he began to
bring the Rubicon about to face their shadow.
 "Nothing new."

    "Ahead one-quarter impulse," he said as the dis-
tance between the twin ships began to diminish.
"Let's get to know each other."
 "How close are you trying to get?"
    "Close enough to rub noses. Disarm the weapons
and lower the shields, but be prepared to reactivate
on my mark."
    "We might be able to pass right through them,"
O'Brien speculated.
    "I'm not going to try. I just want to provoke some
kind of reaction."
 "That's what I'm afraid of."
    Sisko felt the silence in the runabout's control
cabin pressing in on him as the two ships drew near
each other. Just as they were about to touch, he cut
power and thrustered the Rubicon to a full stop. The
two ships hung nose to nose, only a few meters
apart, while O'Brien continued scanning. Sisko
could see now with his own eyes what the sensors
were saying. He could make out the stars if he stared
long enough into the image of the duplicate run-
about.
    O'Brien tried hailing one more time, but again
there was no response. "Nothing," he said.
    "We have to continue searching this sector," Sisko
said, "but I have no doubt that our companion
runabout will keep following us like a lost puppy,
and I'm not having much luck getting used to that
idea."
    Sisko blinked as a proximity alarm began to chime
from the main console. "Checking long-range sen-

sors," O'Brien said, swiftly touching pads with his
fingertips. He looked up at Sisko, eyes wide. "We've
got another ship approaching at light-speed--no,
make that two ships, and they both seem plenty real
enough. Estimated speed warp eight-point-six."
  "What's their heading?"
  "They're on a direct course toward our position."
  "Let's hope it's someone with some answers."
  "I'm trying to get a positive..."
  "What is it, Chief?."
    "Captain, it might be prudent to back away from
that other runabout and raise our shields, just in
case. I recognize those warp signatures."
  "Who are they?"
  "Klingons."

162

0

CHAPTER
      13

"DESTROYED?" KLARN SHOUTED. "All the crystals,
destroyed? This had better be some kind of joke,
Quark. Do you hear me? A bad joke, one that no one
is laughing at!"
    "It's no joke," Quark told DaiMon Klarn, whose
glowering face continued to fill the main viewscreen
in Ops. "But it wasn't my fault, I swear. It was the
Aulep and the Rylep. They're crazy, always quarrel-
ing, shooting at each other, chasing each other
around. They put pettiness ahead of profit. They're
so... so unreliable." Quark leaned conspiratorially
toward the screen and lowered his voice. "I can't be
held responsible for their actions. The fact is, I was
nearly killed in the attack that destroyed the crys-
tals."
  "It's a pity you weren't," Klarn said. "But I can

correct that oversight, Quark. It's also a pity you
can't control your business partners, or choose them
more wisely in the first place, but I can deal with
them as well, if I must. You will tell me how you are
going to replace that lost shipment or compensate
me for my losses in full, plus a little extra for
aggravation, preferably in gold-pressed latinum.
And you will do it within one hour."
    "But, Klarn, I can't possibly... I mean, you
don't realize--"
    "Someone had better make recompense. I do not
care if it's you, the Aulep, the Rylep, the Beshiel, or
the Bajoran Prophets!"
    "Major, the Beshiel are targeting the Ferengi ship
in direct response to DaiMon Klarn's threats," Worf
said.
    Kira stepped forward and took a sharp breath.
"Listen to me, all of you. There will be no battle, I
promise you that. The first ship that fires will be
neutralized. I must assume you do not fully ap-
preciate the extent of this station's firepower, but let
me assure you that any hostile act will be short
lived."
    "I do not intend to fire on Deep Space Nine
directly," Klarn insisted.
    Kira spread her hands. "That doesn't matter. This
is our space. Any weapons fire might result in
damage to the station."
    "The Federation would not risk firing first on a
Ferengi vessel," Klarn countered coldly.
 Kira smiled menacingly at him. "Perhaps not, but

a Bajoran major in Bajoran space just might. Now,
Bedal, you will order your ships to power down their
weapons. Klarn, you will do the same. After that,
both of you are to come aboard the station so that we
can attempt to work all of this out. Talks between
Quark, the Aulep, and the Rylep have already begun,
and you are welcome to join them--unarmed, of
course. Meeting with us is your best option, Klarn.
Your only other choice is to return home empty-
handed or get blasted into whatever afterlife you
believe in. You have five minutes to decide. Starting
now." She turned to Dax and nodded, and the main
screen went dark.
"You aren't really going to destroy them, are
you?" Quark asked in earnest.
"It does seem prudent," Dorram said.
"I agree," said Flenn.
"I don't recall asking either one of you," Kira
said, glaring. They averted their eyes. A tense silence
followed. Kira stood, arms folded, waiting out the
clock.                   t1'
    "Reopen all channels," she said, precisely at the
five-minute mark. The screen came to life.
    "We have considered your offer, Major," Bedal
said before Kira could say a word. "It sounds
reasonable enough."
    "I fail to see what can be accomplished by talk-
ing," Klarn said.
    "By attending the meeting you may be enlight-
ened," Kira told him. "You have everything to gain
and nothing to lose."

 "I am losing valuable time."
    "Then we'll try to keep the session brief," Kira
said.
    DaiMon Klarn made a face that Kira could only
associate with acute indigestion. "Yes, yes, very
well," he said, and the screen went dark.
    "Major, Dr. Bashit would like to see you in the
infirmary when you get a minute," Dax said, winc-
ing in apparent sympathy.
 Not another summons, Kira thought.
 "Can it wait?"
 "He says it should only take a moment."
    "He always says it'll only take a moment," Kira
said. "Monitor the new arrivals," she instructed
Odo. "And post plenty of security. I'll be back
shortly." She glanced at Dax again. "Tell the doctor
I'll be right there, but I won't be smiling."
 Dax grinned at her. "Yes, sir."

    Dr. Bashir greeted Kira as she walked through the
door. A look of mi~ exasperation tightened his fine
features, but she already had a best guess as to what
that was all about. It was the sort of look the doctor
often wore when he had innocent casualties to tend
to. In her estimation, he was still a bit too sensitive
for a post like this, the sort of man who would have
been more at home in an advanced treatment center
somewhere on Earth or, better still, participating in
a humanitarian aid mission to some plague-ravaged
world. He was a gentle man, and Deep Space Nine
had never been a gentle place.

    But Bashir had asked to come here, to the frontier,
and since arriving he had met the many challenges
of that decision with courage, intelligence, and de-
termination. Kira had come to respect him for all of
that.
    "I'm treating a couple from Bajor, and I thought
you ought to talk to them," he said in a hushed
voice.
    "Why me?" There were other Bajorans on the
station. She didn't think Bashir would call her here
simply to offer comfort to some of her people.
    "They were on their way to see Captain Sisko--
something about a planetary resource project."
    She still didn't see the urgency. "How badly were
they injured?"
    "Not too seriously. Their shuttle was damaged
when that Klingon freighter exploded. But they've
been asking to see their daughter. I thought I recog-
nized their names, but I didn't realize until I
checked that they're the parents of Tol Elliena"--
Kira felt the weight of his words settle in her gut--
"the girl who was on the Rio Grande with Jake," he
finished. "I haven't told them, but I will if you want
me to. The thing is, I don't know that much about
what happened or about what's going on now."
    "! don't know much more than you do." Kira
sighed. "But you'll be happy to know I've persuaded
a small fleet of Beshiel ships not to fire on us and
convinced a Ferengi DaiMon not to fire on themm
or on us. At least not for the moment. You might
have been a lot busier in here."

167

    "I do appreciate that, Major." Bashir smiled,
letting her know he understood the strain she was
under. "Tell you what," he added. "If you like, I'll
talk to these two."
  "No, I'll talk to them, but thanks for the offer."
    "Has there been any word about Jake and
Elliena?"
    "No, not yet. The captain was scheduled to send a
message buoy through the wormhole over an hour
ago, but it hasn't shown up, and we haven't heard a
thing from Jake. To tell you the truth I'm getting a
little worried myself."
    Bashir held her gaze for a moment, then turned in
silence and led the way into the next room. Several
other patients sat around. Only one seemed to be
hurt seriously, a Starfleet yeoman lying on a biobed,
apparently undergoing a scan. Two Bajorans, both in
their forties, sat side by side on another bed. They
wore well-tailored suits. The woman's was decorated
with a subtle scrollwork pattern, and she clutched a
fairly substantial matching shawl. Kira had seen
Elliena only a few times, but the resemblance was
clear.
    "Major," Bashir said, indicating the two, "this is
Tol Nareth and Tol Janin."
    "The doctor tells us you have word of our daugh-
ter," Nareth said. Kira saw the concerned look of a
parent strong in his eyes. His wife gasped a small
breath. "We hated the idea of leaving her here, even
for so short a time. It was irresponsible of us."
  "I understand," Kira said, "but you mustn't

168

blame yourselves or second-guess your decisions.
We all take our chances just getting out of bed in the
morning, after all; both of you might just as easily
have been killed in your shuttle when that freighter
exploded, and Elllena along with you, if she'd been
there."
    "Why isn't she here?" Nareth said, rising, his
expression changing to one of controlled distress.
    "She was involved in that explosion, just as you
were," Kira went on doggedly, "but the ship she was
on was only slightly damaged."
    Janin opened her mouth and brought her hand up
to cover it as tears seeped from the corners of her
eyes.
    "What was my daughter doing on a ship?" Nareth
demanded.
    Kira paused, choosing her words, then forged
ahead: "One of our officers was about to take her
and Captain Sisko's son, Jake, on a brief tour of the
solar system. Their runabout was thrown clear of the
station and ended up entering the wormhole. We
have every reason to believe they are all right. The
captain himself has gone after them. He'll bring
them back, I can promise you that."
    Kira waited for the verbal explosion she was sure
would come, but EllJena's parents only sat there,
rigid with concern. When Janin found her voice she
asked if there'd been any word.
    "No, none yet, but I'm sure there will be any time
now," Kira told them, with all the confidence she
could muster.

    "We've done this to her," Janin said, tears run-
ning down her cheeks now. "We never should have
let her come here in the first place."
    "No, no," Kira said, "you did nothing wrong. Just
as no one here did. Any fault lies with those Klingon
freighters."
    "You've met the captain," Bashir offered, stepping
forward. "He's the most capable man I know, and
his son is a very resourceful young fellow. There's no
reason to believe your daughter won't be back any
time now, safe and sound."
    Kira felt an urge to call Dax to see if a message
buoy had come in since the last time she'd checked.
But Dax would have called her if that had happened.
"I assure you," Kira said, "we will let you know the
minute we hear anything."
    "And we will be here, waiting," Nareth said,
though his tone carried more than a hint of accusa-
tion.
  Kira and Bashir turned and left the room.
    "We have to do something," Kira said as soon as
they were alone. "I'm almost as concerned as they
are."
    "You aren't the only one who's worried, Major.
This whole situation is driving everybody crazy. In
the meantime, I'm about caught up here. Where are
you headed now? I'd like to tag along."
    "All right," Kira said softly. She headed straight
for Ops with the doctor in tow. The moment they
stepped off the lift, she called together the senior
officers for an impromptu meeting.

    "We should have had our second message from
the captain by now, but there's been nothing," Dax
said, when Kira and Dr. Bashir had briefed them on
their meeting with Elliena's parents.
    "It's not like Captain Sisko to miss a dead-
line," Odo said. "We have to consider the possibility
that the Dominion has something to do with his
silence."
    Kira realized Odo had said this in part to spare
anyone else from having to say it. Changelings,
Odo's own people, were the Founders, the true
power behind the Dominion. To his mind, though,
with its keen sense of justice, the Founders repre-
sented a threat to peace, an evil he could not abide.
Odo had wrestled with this paradox more than once,
and his struggle always ended the same way.
    "I propose we take the Defiant into the Gamma
Quadrant to look for the runabouts," Worf said. "It
has the cloaking device, the firepower, the speed,
and the maneuverability needed to deal with what-
ever the captain and Jake may have encountered."
    "We don't actually know that they've encountered
anything," Bashir insisted.
    "No, we don't, but Odo is right," Dax said.
"There are any number of possibilities. And depend-
ing on how far the Rio Grande may have drifted, it
could take a while to find them. It's also possible the
captain sent a message, but the buoy was lost."
    "Or he might be concerned that he's not the only
one looking for the Rio Grande. A message buoy, if

170                                                               171

 someone else found it, might put Jake and Elliena in
 greater jeopardy."
     "Or the captain and Chief O'Brien have suc-
 ceeded, and they're on their way back, which would
 put them here ahead of a buoy anyway," KJra said.
     "Exactly," Bashir agreed, clearly trying to look
 hopeful. "It's easy to think the worst, but it isn't
 always necessary."
    "I do not think we should leave their fate to
chance," Worf said sharply, "or base our decisions
on groundless speculation. We do not know where
the second Klingon freighter went. We know only
that something was there and that it had consider-
able firepower. We must also assume it followed the
Rio Grande into the wormhole. The captain and
Chief O'Brien cannot hope to combat such an adver-
sary. However, the Defiant might. I would like to
volunteer to lead that mission."
    "I appreciate your concerns," Kira said. "I share
all of them. And you're right, we can't wait much
longer, and we need an advantage. But I'll tal~e
the Defiant myself, if and when it becomes neces-
sary."
    "Very well," Worf conceded cheerlessly. "Permis-
sion to serve as weapons and tactical officer."
    "I'd like to grant your request, but I may need you
here, Commander," Kira said.
    Worf remained silent for a moment as he nodded,
eyes averted, apparently thinking to himself. "Ma-
jor," he said presently, "I was the one who suggested

that Jake try full thrust in order to get free of the
freighter's tractor beam. I feel... responsible."
    "Don't blame yourself," Kira said. "Sisko gave
the order. You only offered advice, and good advice
at that. It got them loose, after all."
    "Of course it did," Dax said. "What happened
after that wasn't your fault."
    "Even so," Worf said, "you may need my help in
dealing with the Klingons, if you should encounter
them."
    "Point well taken," Kira said. "You're probably
right. But nobody is going anywhere until we deal
with the mess we've got right here. I can't run off on
a rescue mission with several handfuls of visitors
threatening to destroy one another and the station."
    "Thank you, Major," Odo said. "I was beginning
to think that all our diplomatic problems would be
dumped in my lap."
    "That won't happen just yet," Kira said. "But
thanks for the suggestion." She sent the officers back
to their stations. "Approximately how long since the
second buoy was scheduled to reach us?" she asked
Dax, once the lieutenant was in position. "One hour, forty-three minutes."
    "Very well. Send security around to the Aulep, the
Rylep, the Beshiel, the Ferengi, and Quark. Explain
nothing, but tell them to assemble in the meeting
room."
    "What if some of them refuse?" Dax asked, al-
ready starting to go about the task, but wearing a
look of strained amusement on her face.

172                                                                  173

    "I didn't say ask them, I said tell them," Kira said.
She had no intention of letting them refuse.
    "How do you plan to handle our esteemed guests
this time?" Odo asked, lowering his voice to a
confidential level. "I assume you have a plan."
    Kira looked at him and sighed. "Yes, a plan. I just
wish I knew what it was .... "

0

CHAPTER
      14

"MINIMUM POWER HAS been restored," the computer
reported, to Jake's considerable relief. The run-
about's propulsion systems remained off-line, which
meant he couldn't attempt to lift off right away, but
at least the life-support system and some of the
sensors now functioned.
    "Looks like we might live a little while longer," he
said, after he had explained the situation to Elliena.
"Maybe we can even get an idea where we are and
what happened."
    Elliena sat patiently, though Jake noticed she kept
tapping one foot nervously as he tried to scan their
surroundings. He studied the sensor displays for
several minutes.
 "What's wrong?" she finally asked.
 "I'm not reading any atmosphere at all out there,"

174                                                                   175

Jake said, worrying over the sensor panel controls.
Had they malfunctioned? "This doesn't make any
sense. It's as if we're still in space."
    "But I can see atmosphere," Elllena said. Jake
glanced through the window at the thick gray-and-
white mist that swirled everywhere outside the run-
about. "What I mean is, there's definitely something
there."
      "I know," Jake replied, turning with her. "And I
know we landed on something solid. I felt it."
  "So did I."
    "So either we're both crazy, or we're having the
same dream, or the sensors are wrong, because I'm
not reading any surface, either."
"I'll pick that last one, but what do we do now?"
Jake considered his reply. Elliena was asking him
straight out, as if she trusted him to know. That
made him feel good, but the fact that he didn't have
any answers made him more than a little uneasy. She
seemed to sense this and looked away again, out the
window.
    "We could get out and take a look around," he
suggested. "But without knowing what's out there, I
think that would be too dangerous."  "As in, we could die instantly?"
    "Well, yeah." Jake suddenly felt like an idiot. He
glanced up and noticed that Elliena was grinning at
him, if feebly, and he couldn't help grinning back.
Which went a long way toward breaking the tension
that had held half the breath in his lungs since the

176

runabout stopped moving, and had nearly kept him
from speaking for fear he would say the wrong thing.
He kept thinking Elliena had to be even more
concerned than he was; she wasn't used to any of
this. He at least had been through a number of
emergencies before. Yet she seemed to be managing
her fears and was even able to kid with him just
when he thought nothing would help ease her fears
or his own.
    "You're okay, you know that?" he said, though he
found himself wishing he'd said it some other way
even as he spoke.
 "Thanks." She smiled again.
    Jake felt a renewed sense of determination.
"Okay, I'll tell you what I think. And maybe this
time I'll get it right. Every time we've acted so far,
it's resulted in a disaster. So I'd say the smartest
thing we can do now is just sit tight for a while and
wait. We know we were brought here deliberately.
There has to be some reason. Someone is behind all
this, and we should probably assume they're going to
let us know what they want sooner or later."
  "Do you really think so?" Elliena asked.
    "Yes. If they wanted to destroy us they could have
done that a couple of times by now. And something
else: we're probably better off staying put than
wandering around, because anyone from the station
who comes looking for us will probably investigate
this local phenomenon, whatever it is. They'll use a
standard grid search pattern, which should locate
the runabout, and us with it, if we're still here. If we

were still drifting through space, we'd be harder to
find."
  "You're right."
    Jake turned back to the instrument panels and
studied the sensor displays. They flickered suddenly
and began to change. He began to read an atmos-
phere, then gravity. Its sudden appearance didn't
make much sense, but that was exactly what made
the new information fit in with the rest of the data
he'd observed: nothing here made sense. Yet the new
readings gave him hope.
    "What is it?" Elliena asked, apparently seeing his
mood change.
    "I don't know why, but I'm suddenly getting a lot
of information. It looks as if there's a planet out
there now, and we're on it. I don't think these mass
and gravity readings could mean anything else. I'm
even reading some kind of geologic formations; I
just can't make any sense of them. What I don't
understand is why we weren't getting these readings
before or why the computer can't quite make sense
of them. Insufficient data, I assume."
  Jake looked at Elliena and shrugged.
    "But you were right; we did land on something,"
Elliena said.
    Jake nodded. "Or in something. We could have
been pulled inside a ship of some kind. We could
even be underground, for all I know. I don't think
that would explain these physical readings, but I am
picking up random energy discharges toomplasma
spikes and surges that move in and out of sensor

range like ghosts. They're not like anything I've seen
around Bajor." He paused, letting his mind sort out
the jumble of thoughts that clamored for attention
or dismissal. "If we're aboard a ship, that might
explain part of what's going on," he said more
slowly. "These energy patterns aren't like the ones I
remember from the station, either, but we might be
dealing with an unknown alien technology." He
stopped again and took a long, deep breath, then let
it out slowly. The truth was, he just didn't know.
"I'm starting to babble."
 "I don't mind. Keep talking."
    "The truth is, I haven't flown or trained enough to
really know what's what. I'm not Chief O'Brien or
my father. These energy spikes could be telling us
everything we want to know, but I'm not getting it."
    Elliena leaned closer to observe the displays. Jake
let her see for herself. After a time she nodded.
"Those readings remind me of the patterns of brain
activity," she said.
    "What made you think of that?" he asked. That
comparison hadn't occurred to him, but he could see
what she meant.
    "I've been taking some premed courses. I'm
thinking of going to a medical research school. Or I
was, for a while."
 "You never mentioned that before."
    "I know. It's hard to choose your whole life when
you haven't lived very much of it yet. There are a few
other possibilities, some I've just thought of re-
cently."

179

  "Like what?"
    "I'm thinking of maybe going into environmental
research, like my parents. I know that's what they
want me to do."
    "But it's not what you want?" Jake asked, smiling
at her.
    "Well," she said, excitement creeping into her
voice, "Bajor's full membership in the Federation
could mean I'd stand a chance at getting into Star-
fleet Academy."
 Jake sat back, eyes wide. "The Academy?"
    "Sure. Why not? Is there anything wrong with
wanting that?"
    "No, of course not," Jake said, realizing how
incredulous he'd sounded. He hoped she hadn't
taken his surprise the wrong way.
    "Or... or I don't know what else. The truth is,
I'm not sure what I want to do."
     Jake couldn't help but chuckle. He knew that
feeling of uncertainty all too well. "What?" Elliena asked.
    "Me either. Maybe that's why I'm trying to be a
writer. You can write and still do a lot of other
stuff... anything, really."
  "Really?"
  "Yeah."
    "I didn't realize," she said. She was looking at him
with wide, intensely curious eyes. But he saw a touch
of melancholy there as well.
 "What's the matter?" he asked.
 "I don't know. It's just that I thought for certain

you'd be going off to Starfleet Academy, and fairly
soon. I keep picturing you exactly like your father,
an officer, someday a captain. You're smart enough
and brave enough."
    She let her eyes wander off. Their relationship
hadn't been very serious, he thought, or they had
been trying to keep it from becoming that, Jake
wasn't sure which. Both of them had known their
time together would probably end when Elliena's
parents left DS9. But he felt as if he could read her
thoughts now. He felt exactly what she felt--he was
sure of it. Caution wasn't the proper response any-
more.
 "Thank you," he said. "That means a lot."
    "You're welcome." She winked. "Tell me, what
does your father think?"
    "Actually, Starfleet Academy is still what my
father wants for me, but he's accepted the fact that
it's not what I want. At least that's what he says."
    Elliena tipped her head as if reconsidering him.
"So, any idea what to do instead? While you work
on writing, I mean."
    "I've been accepted at the Pennington School in
Wellington, New Zealand, back on Earth. A writing
fellowship. I haven't decided if that's where I want
to go yet. You have to get a lot of experience to be
any good at writing. You have to live a lot and learn a
lot. When my father and I took his light-sail ship to
Cardassia, I told him I thought DS9 was a great
place to get the experience I need. One of the best.
He agreed."

180                                                                             181

    "I read about that journey of yours. In fact, when I
saw your picture, standing there with your father on
that Bajoran light-sail ship after you arrived at
Cardassia, I knew I had to meet you. It must have
been wonderful."
    "It was wonderful. I almost didn't go, but I'm glad
I did."
    A short silence passed. Elliena looked out the
window once more at the swirling veil of mist. "I
think maybe, if I do leave Bajor to study on some
other world, I'll look back and say the same thing
one day."
    "Probably. I don't intend to stay on the station
indefinitely. I'll probably go to Pennington eventu-
ally. Of course, there are other schools, other places.
It's a big galaxy. I'm just a little too busy learning
about the universe right here for the time being."
    "That's pretty much the way I feel, but I've gotten
to see only one small piece of one solar system. Of
course, it is a very special piece. Bajor is my home,'
after all. But so is the rest of the galaxy, the way I see
it."
    Jake took both of her hands in his. "I know what
you mean," he said. "And I think you're amazing."
    She tipped her head. "I never dated a writer
before."
  "Oh, they are really special, no kidding."
  "I don't doubt it."
    He leaned over and kissed her, his hands gently
tightening. When they parted, Jake felt a sudden
twinge of doubt, as though he'd done something

wrong. But as he let the look on her face guide his
thinking, he was almost certain that he had done
exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.
    Elliena sat looking back at him, letting the soft-
ness in her eyes speak for her. He took a breath, then
reminded himself that he had to keep trying to find a
way out of the situation they were in. With a smile
he let go of her hands and turned back to the sensor
displays. Energy sources bolted this way and that,
then trailed off, only to come back again--first one,
then dozens, then a trailing pair.
    "Computer, what is your analysis of the energy
readings?"
    "Energy patterns and intensity are not consistent
with any known configuration," the computer voice
responded.
 Which was precisely what he expected.
    "Is that why you wanted to spend time with me?"
Elliena asked calmly.
 Jake looked at her. "What do you mean?"
    She smiled, but there was a hint of mischief in her
eyes. "I mean, am I just another little adventure, a
chance to learn something new to write about?"
    "No," Jake said, trying to keep his expression
dead serious, but her grin inspired him to return one
of his own.
    Elliena nodded. "It's actually true, isn't it, of both
of us I mean; the adventure is what we're here for, at
least to some extent. But I think that's okay."
    "Good," Jake said, relieved that he had read her
correctly. "But I think between us we've managed to

182                                                              183

find a little more adventure than we were hoping
for." He gazed out the window again at the strange
gray mist.
     "I've heard that an adventure is something you
only like to talk about once it's over," Elllena said.
  "And how is that supposed to help us?"
    "I don't have the slightest idea," she said, and she
started to laugh.
    Jake found himself moving to embrace her again.
But just as they touched, someone--or somethingw
started tapping on the runabout's hull.

CHAPTER
      15

184

"WE'RE BEING SCANNED," O'Brien reported, concen-
trating on the display at his fingertips. "But I'm not
sure by whom."
    "It has to be the Klingons," Sisko said, half
listening to the chief, half planning his next move as
he watched the two Klingon vessels approach on the
sensors.
    "No, sir, it's not the Klingons, and it's not our
runabout double, either. I'm trying to get a fix on the
source."
    "If the Klingons aren't scanning us yet, they soon
will be; you can count on it." Sisko readied the warp
drive. He didn't want to leave the area until he was
satisfied Jake and Elliena weren't here, but he knew
he might not have a choice.
 "I've got a reading," O'Brien said, working at his

controls. "A very low energy sensor sweep is
encompassing us and a good deal of open space
around us. And it keeps moving. The beam may
have found those Klingon ships by now--or it will
any second. I can't say how long it's been there,
maybe since we entered the area. We weren't scan-
ning for anything this faint before."  "So where is it coming from?"
    O'Brien concentrated for a moment, fingers once
more playing piano on the panels before him; then
he looked up sharply. "From the planetoid."
    "But there's nothing down there. We just scanned
most of the surface."
    "Either we didn't see the source, or the scan
comes and goes. Either way, there's something there
now. And it's growing in intensity. The readings are
in the same bandwidth as those we were picking up
on the planet when we were in orbit, but they're
much more organized and accurate. It's as if whoev-
er is operating the beam knows exactly what he's
looking for."
 "Still no sign of the Rio Grande?" Sisko asked.
 "No, sir."
    Sisko glanced down at his own controls and
turned his mind to the task at hand. The Klingons
were dropping out of warp. The smaller of the two
ships was a Bird-of-Prey, but the larger one was a
Vor'cha-class attack cruiser, the Imperial fleet's larg-
est and most powerful type of vessel, and there was
no doubt as to their heading: straight toward the
Rubicon.

    "Keep the shields up, but don't target any of their
weapons," Sisko said. "We don't want to start a fight
we can't win. What do you say we greet our visi-
tors?" He opened a channel and tried to introduce
himself.
    "I know who you are, Captain," said the Klingon
who appeared on the Rubicon's small viewscreen. "I
am Drokas, commanding a task force charged with
investigating the destruction of our freighter, the
Toknor, at Deep Space Nine."
    "In a way, we're here for the same reason. Perhaps
we can help each other."
    "You can help us and yourselves byre" Drokar
stopped suddenly and turned his head, apparently
listening to someone speaking to him from just
beyond the view of the screen. When his eyes again
met Sisko's, his look was far less cordial.
    "Captain Sisko, I demand to be informed as to
what kind of scan is being used on my ships. What is
its purpose?"
    "If you're referring to that soft energy scan ema-
nating from the planetoid we just left, we don't know
any more about it than you do," Sisko said with
studied indifference. "I'm sure your own people
have already told you the scan isn't coming from
US."
    "We are checking the origin of the scan at this
very moment, Captain. Meanwhile," Drokas said,
pausing as he adjusted his mass in his command
chair, "perhaps you can enlighten me on another
matter."

186                                                                187

    Sisko tried a tentative smile, for diplomacy's sake.
"And what would that be?"
    "I'm interested to know what new kind of shields
the Federation is using, since we cannot get satisfac-
tory readings on your other runabout. I would ask its
pilot myself, but he will not answer our hails. It is
some type of experimental craft, of course. Perhaps
one that is experiencing... difficulties?"
    "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Drokas, but that
other runabout out there is not a Federation ship.
We're getting the same readings--or lack of them.
That vessel has been following us around like a lost
dog. You're welcome to investigate, of course. And if
you are able to tell us anything we don't know, we
want to listen. In the meantime we'll do the same for
you."
    That seemed to slow the big Klingon's verbal'
charge, but Sisko knew he would recover quickly. He
watched as Drokas turned away once more, speaking
low, then nodded and spun back.
    "Captain Sisko, we have verified the source of the
scan to be a planetoid several million kilometers
from here."
    "About time," O'Brien said under his breath,
though Drokas's scowl indicated he heard.
    "That is consistent with our findings," Sisko said
calmly.
    "You will end the scan immediately!" Drokas
said. "I am running short on patience, Captain.
Obviously you are here testing secret weapons and
technologies, and we have caught you at it. It is also

clear to me that the Toknor must have stumbled onto
one of your secrets when it passed this way--and
you were willing to destroy our freighter in order to
keep that secret. A base on that planetoid, perhaps?
A Federation attempt to assert control over this
entire sector?"
    Sisko stared coldly at the Klingon captain. After a
sufficient pause he leaned closer to the screen on the
runabout's control panel. "Listen to me, Drokas.
We've got nothing to do with that soft scan. We're
being scanned, just as you are. And here's something
else you should know: the Toknor was destroyed by
an identical Klingon freighter, but we could get no
firm readings of any kind from that ghost ship, just
as we can get none from that other runabout out
there."
    "Silence!" Drokas shouted. "I have heard this
story of Klingon attacking Klingon, of ghost ships
disappearing. This is a Federation lie. I have no
intention of believing anything so preposterous. But
I will get at the truth, Captain, I assure you."
    Drokas seemed to be a staunch, experienced war-
rior from the old school--a notably more popular
faction in the Klingon Empire these days. He also
seemed to be having a very bad day. Provoking him
further would be counterproductive. But the truth
had to count for something...
    And that, Sisko began to realize, might be the very
key he was looking for. Perhaps he couldn't dispell
Drokar's federation fantasys, but if experience was
any measure, he suspected that Drokas would soon

189

have bigger problems to worry about--more than
likely of his own making. While Klingons had many
strengths, they could be intractable and slow to
adapt, especially in confrontational situations. Sisko
didn't know much about the phantom ships, but he
knew exactly how they reacted to confrontations.
    "Drokas, I'm telling you the truth," he began
again. "If you don't believe me, I suggest you take
one of your ships over to that other runabout and
have a look for yourself. We have nothing to hide."
    "We observed you in close proximity to the other
runabout just before our arrival. You could have
been setting some kind of trap. Our sensors do not
tell us much. You might have taken the crew off the
other runabout and arranged to destroy it and
anyone who draws near it."
  "Oh, brother," O'Brien muttered.
    "You are a suspicious fellow, aren't you, Drokas?"
Sisko said in spite of himself. He was at a disadvan-
tage, no doubt of that, but there were limits to how
much nonsense he could tolerate.
    "You think me too suspicious, Captain, but I have
survived a very long time that way. The very same
way you have survived, I am sure."
    "There is a difference between caution and para-
noia, Drokas."
    "And between heroes and fools." Drokas said. "I
am no fool, Captain. I do not believe your stories,
and I see no reason to trust you. I am being lied to by
you just as I was lied to by that intractable Bajoran
officer on Deep Space Nine."

190

  "Major Kira?" O'Brien whispered.
 Sisko nodded. "I'm afraid so."
    Drokas remained humorless. "I will not listen to
this nonsense any longer. My mission here is clear.
Yours is not. We are the ones with nothing to hide,
not you. And we have lost a ship and a crew!"
    "So have we," O'Brien snapped. "That's one of
the reasons we're here."
    "You say this only to trick me!" Drokas chal-
lenged, churning in his chair, as if the urge to leap up
and physically engage his opponent might over-
whelm him. Sisko repressed a wince as the leather
segments in the Klingon's uniform made a chorus of
ratcheting sounds.
    "Drokas," Sisko said, "we have indeed lost a
ship--a runabout--and a crew, but we don't think
they were destroyed. They were catapulted into the
wormhole when your freighter exploded. We are
here to search for them and to gather information on
the attack. Believe me, if there was anything we
could have done to save your freighter or its crew, we
would have."
    "Preposterous!" Drokas said. "You say you search
for a runabout, yet one lies astern of your vessel even
as we speak. You cannot expect me to believe such
nonsense!"
    "That's not one of our ships!" O'Brien flared,
finally agitated. "Don't you get it? That ship's some
sort of projection. It's a reflection of this runabout,
the same as the freighter that destroyed your
freighter."

- "Five minutes, Captain," Drokas came back,
pounding his clenched fist on the arm of his com-
mand chair. "That is how long you have before I
open fire."
  The screen suddenly went dark.
    "Well, what now?" O'Brien said, rolling his eyes.
"Do we wait for the Cardassians to show up? Or
maybe the Borg?"
    Sisko knew the chief expected no answer. They
couldn't seem to distance themselves from the ghost
runabout, which continued to quietly match their
every move, and they still had almost no idea who or
what was behind the phantoms--or the anomalous
planetoid they'd investigated. Sisko had hoped to
entice Drokas into engaging the phantom, but that
effort had failed as well.
    Meanwhile their mission to find Jake and Elliena
had been a complete failure so far, a situation that
didn't seem likely to improve any time soon.
    "The Klingons have got full weapons lock on us,"
O'Brien said.
    "Let's try hailing Drokas again," Sisko said. "I
have to find some way to reason with him."
    "Good luck." O'Brien sighed, complying. "The
channel is open, but they're not responding."
    Sisko stared out the window. "Drokas, if you can
hear me, I suggest that you scan the surface of that
planetoid out there. It's true that the soft energy
scans seem to be originating from there, but you
won't find any evidence of Federation technologies
or a Federation base. What you will find is that the

192

surface is quite busy across a wide range of the
electromagnetic spectrum. We haven't had time to
analyze the data yet, but the activity may have
something to do with these phantom ships. If you
want, we'll lower our shields, and one of your men
can beam over here here, while your other ship
checks out the planetoid."
    "I'm not sure I like the sound of that," O'Brien
muttered.
    "A reasonable suggestion, Captain, but as I said,
you were here long before we arrived. Your people
could have planted weapons on the surface of the
planetoid, and you could raise your shields at least
as quickly as we could fire our weapons, particularly
if you know what is about to happen--and I do not.
No, I will not bow to your suggestion; you will bow
to my orders. Your time is up. I am giving you one
last chance to comply."
    "This is ridiculous, Drokas!" Sisko said, feeling
the frustration now and beginning to lose his tem-
per. "Attacking us won't solve your problems."
    "I will be the judge of that," Drokas said. "Last
chance."
     Sisko glared at the Klingon. "But we don't have
any information to give you!" "A pity."
 Again the screen went dark.
    "The cruiser is powering up its forward disrupt-
er," O'Brien said dully. "I don't think we're going to
like this part."
 "Shields at maximum," Sisko said.

  "Already there," O'Brien answered. "Weapons
armed," he added. "I'm locking on the cruiser first."
  "We can't just sit here and be fired upon," Sisko
  said, taking the controls. "Let's try to move away,
  evade some of their fire, force them to shoot us in
  the back if they want to."
    "Whatever you say, Captain," O'Brien replied
soberly.
    As Sisko brought the impulse engines into play,
the runabout came around and began to move off.
    "No good," O'Brien muttered. "I'm reading
weapons discharge. They're firing."
    Both men waited for the impact, but it didn't
come.
    "They're targeting the phantom runabout,"
O'Brien abruptly reported.
    Sisko looked out the window to a clear view of
both vessels. Disrupter fire blazed from the two
Klingon ships, scoring direct hits, but their beams'
passed straight through the other runabout, as ex-
pected.
"Now maybe they'll believe us," Sisko said grimly.
O'Brien shook his head. "I doubt it. They're
turning toward us now. They're firing!"
    The Rubicon shook hard with the violence of the
attack cruiser's massive disrupter assault. The cabin
went dark as a shower of heat and sparks spewed
from the main console. Sisko choked as smoke and
the smell of burning metal and plastic filled his
mouth and nose. Then the lights came back on as
O'Brien worked to bypass overloaded systems.

    "Shields down to thirty-one percent," the chief
reported. "Another hit like that and we'll be in a lot
of trouble."
    "I know," Sisko said. "Coming about. Return
fire!"
    O'Brien complied. The cyclonic hiss of the Rubi-
con's phasers filled the captain's ears.
 "Direct hit, minimal effect," O'Brien stated.
 "Target photon torpedo."
 "Targeting. Ready."
    But even as O'Brien spoke Drokas's ships fired
again. The sound echoed through the hull with
deafening volume this time. The runabout rocked
violently once more, and the cabin was cast into
darkness, replaced this time by the red wash of
emergency lighting and fresh white-hot flashes burst-
ing from the main and secondary consoles.
    "That's done it," O'Brien said, already working to
assess the damage. "The shields are down, along
with half of our systems. I think we've still got the
impulse engines, but I wouldn't count on it."
"I have to. We've got to try to dodge their fire."
Sisko stabbed at the engine controls. The run-
about spun hard to starboard, forcing both officers to
hang on to their seats despite the inertia dampeners.
The attack cruiser's next shot went to the Rubicon's
port quarter, grazing the nacelles. The sound of the
engines died, and the pull of the ship's sudden
acceleration began to fade.
 Sisko found his fingers tapping at dead panels.
 "I'd say that was a low-energy precision shot,"

O'Brien went on. "Without our shields they could
have destroyed us, but we're still here."
    "The engines are gone," Sisko said in answer,
giving up on the controls. For the moment at least,
power wasn't coming back.
    "Perhaps that's what they intended," O'Brien
speculated. "Maybe they wanted to stop us but not
kill us."
    Sisko let a low groan leave his throat. "They've
done that, but what I want to know is why."
    "Captain, you'd better have a look at this."
O'Brien pointed. The phantom runabout was still
tagging along, but it had changed position and was
turning toward the two Klingon battleships. It began
to close the distance between them. Sisko watched
closely as their look-alike drew to within point-blank
range of the Klingons and opened fire, first on the
Bird-of-Prey, then on the cruiser.
    "Direct hit on Drokas's ship, heavy damage to
their shields," O'Brien said, checking his sensor
scans.
  "The phantom is firing again," Sisko said.
"At the other ship this time--another direct hit."
The Klingons immediately fired back. Sisko
watched as their disrupters lashed out once more,
predictably passing straight through the phantom
Rubicon. Twice more all three ships fired, sending
streams of bright energy crisscrossing each other
through the blackness of space.
 Seconds later Sisko witnessed a series of violent

explosions. The Klingon Bird-of-Prey veered off the
attack.
    "Drokas's shields are down to twelve percent. The
Bird-of-Prey has lost shields and taken heavy struc-
tural damage. They've still got partial impulse, at
least for the moment."
    "They've taken damage, all right." Sisko shook his
head. "If the Klingons have any sense, they'll end
this while they can still get away."
    He stopped himself as he realize what the Bird-of-
Prey was up to. He leaned forward, watching.
"Looks like they're trying to circle around and catch
the other runabout in a cross fire."
 "I wouldn't recommend it," O'Brien remarked.
 "Neither would I. Open a channel."
 "Open, sir."
    "Drokas, call off the attack! Your strategy isn't
going to work. You can't damage that phantom ship,
but it can destroy you. And if your firing patterns
line up and your shots go through that ship, you
could blow each other up. Either way, you're going
to get yourselves killed."
    "You will be dealt with before this is through!"
Drokas shouted back, his signal coming in on audio
only.
    "More weapons fire," O'Brien said. Sisko looked
up to see the Klingon cruiser closing in, beginning
another attack. Slowly the phantom Rubicon turned
directly into the Klingon's disrupter fire. Unharmed,
it answered with a blinding energy beam of its own.

Without looking at the sensors, Sisko could see the
increased intensity of the return fire. The phantom's
beam struck the Bird-of-Prey amidships. The initial
explosion seemed to break the Klingon ship nearly
in half just before it erupted in a series of smaller
explosions. A moment later nothing recognizable
remained among the spreading debris cloud where
the warship had been.
    "Drokas has apparently ceased firing for now,"
O'Brien stated. "They're adjusting course away from
US."
    "Can't say that I blame them, but I doubt they're
gone for good."
    "Looks like they're going into warp," O'Brien
said.
  "What about our phantom friend?"
  "Still sticking close to us."
    "But I see nothing that would indicate any further
hostile intent," Sisko mused, observing for himself.
Then movement caught his eye... a large ship,
coming from the region of space where the planetoid
was located and traveling at near light-speed.
 "I see it too," O'Brien said from beside him.
 "What are you reading?"
    "Nothing worth fussing over, same as the readings
for our runabout friend, but this new ship is big."
    "Big as a Klingon Vor'cha-class attack cruiser, I'd
suspect," Sisko said as the second ghost ship passed
by in full view, no more than a thousand kilometers
from the Rubicon.
 O'Brien checked his displays. "The new ship is

following Drokas's course exactly." He paused, then
looked up. "They've just gone to warp."
    "We have got to figure out who's controlling these
ghost ships," Sisko said, feeling far more frustrated
than he cared to admit. "I'm with you, sir."
    "Don't get me wrong," Sisko went on, "I don't
mind that the Klingons are gone, and not a minute
too soon, but everything we've seen proves that the
intelligence behind these phantoms is highly ad-
vanced and not necessarily benevolent. We still
don't know anything about them or what happened
to Jake and Elliena, and we're no closer to getting
the answers than we were when we left the station."
    O'Brien said nothing, but the look in his eyes was
one of empathy.
    "Chief, send a message buoy back to the station
letting them know what's happened. We're overdue
as it is."
"Aye, sir," O'Brien replied. "What then?"
"We'll try to get these engines working. Then I
wouldn't mind taking another look at that planetoid.
For now it's all we've got, and I'm getting the feeling
we've missed something bigger than that low-energy
scan."
    "No luck with the buoy, sir," O'Brien said, shak-
ing his head. "The launch system is jammed. Prob-
ably damaged during the attack. I'd fix it, but I think
we have higher priorities."
    Sisko grimly nodded. Without a word he went
back to work. O'Brien did the same. Within half an

hour power levels were rising again and, with them,
Sisko's mood.
    "The repairs will take some time, but the damage
wasn't as bad as I thought. We may even be able to
restart the engines in a little while."
"Very good, Chief. Let's keep working."
"Captain, what do make of that?" O'Brien asked,
glancing up at the sensor displays, where something
had caught his eye.
    As Sisko leaned over and examined the screen, his
eyes went wide. A new atmosphere? How was this
possible?
  "Do a full scan, maximum range," he said.
    "I'm recalibrating," O'Brien said, tapping at the
console again, then waiting several seconds. New
statistics on the planetoid appeared. "I'm reading an
oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere on the surface. It's con-'
fined to an area only a few kilometers wide, but it's
definitely there."
    "Chief, wouldn't you say it corresponds pretty
closely with the place where that soft-energy scan
originated?"
O'Brien looked at him. "Almost precisely."
"How long before we can get under way?"
"We'll have maybe twenty-five percent impulse
power in a few minutes, but it'll take a while to do
any better than that."
    "Let's hope that's enough to make orbit around
the planetoid," Sisko said, preparing to take the
helm once more. He almost grinned. It was the first
time since arriving in the Gamma Quadrant that

200

he'd felt as though something positive was hap-
pening.
    "I don't think we have enough power to land or to
use the transporters," O'Brien said.
    "One step at a time, Chief," Sisko said, as he set a
new course and watched the Rubicon's engine bal-
ance. Slowly he began to accelerate. "What's our
shadow up to?"
    O'Brien checked. "The other runabout's still
there. It'll probably follow us again."
    "Good," Sisko said. "I'm starting to get used to
it."
    O'Brien frowned, incredulous. "That makes one
of us," he said, as the engines shuddered back to life.

CHAPTER
      16

"SOUNDS LIKE WE'VE got a visitor," Jake said.
    "What kind of life-form could live out there?"
Elliena wondered out loud.
    Jake turned to stare at the rear of their compart-
ment, toward the knocking they'd just heard. He'd
counted a three-strike pattern, each rap loud enough
to be the result of the hull being struck by a solid
object at least as dense as hardwood. Now only silence met his ears.
    "Life seems to find a way of showing up almost
everywhere in one form or another," Jake said. He
turned back and hovered over the sensor displays.
He recalled learning about certain gaseous entities,
as well as ammonia-, sulfur-, and even silicate-based
life-forms, but he didn't think many of those could

2O2

wield heavy objects. He ran a broad scan, then ran it
again and shook his head.
 "What's wrong?" Elliena asked.
    Jake tried to blink his bewilderment into submis-
sion. Courage aside, Elliena was counting on him to
figure out what was going on and to decide what to
do about it. He was the one with experience. Trouble
was, he didn't have a clue.
    "I'm not reading anything," he said. "Not even
any wind, which is strange, because it was blowing at
about twelve knots when we first arrived. My guess is
there's ice of some type sailing around out there, and
a wind gust carried a few chunks of it into our hull.
That was the knocking we heard. Now the wind has
died down, which means it shouldn't happen again."
    That sounded good, he thought, even though he
was just making it up. Ice would require frozen
layers of gas or liquids, oceans perhaps, or precipita-
tion, but he wasn't reading anything quite like that
out there. It was possible that something was wrong
with the sensors or that a localized anomaly was
causing them to malfunction.  Thump.
    "That sounded close to the bow," Elliena said.
Jake followed her gaze. They couldn't see anything
but the mist outside, but as Jake peered into it, he
was almost certain that the gray-and-pink clouds
swirling before him were getting thinner and visibili-
ty was increasing--although there still wasn't any-
thing to actually look at.

  Thump.
  Thump.
    "That was over here." Elliena gestured toward the
ship's port side.
  "You're right."
    Jake ran another sensor sweep, convinced that it
would do no good but desperate to do something. He
came up empty again, except for a sharp rise in
electromagnetic energy surges in the vicinity. Plas-
ma currents ebbed and flowed all around the run-
about. They seemed to swirl, blending and then
separating, much like the mists they traveled
through. But unlike the mists, the skittering energy
fields were not dissipating.
    "Do you still think those sounds are caused by ice
chunks?" Elliena asked, clearly unconvinced.
    "No, I don't. But I haven't got any other ideas.
The impacts seem harmless enough, at least for now,
but I wish I knew was causing them."  Thump.
 Elliena nodded crisply. "Me too."
 Suddenly the runabout moved.
    Jake clung to his seat as the deck rose on the
starboard side, high enough that Jake began to worry
the ship might tip over and roll on its roof. He
checked Elliena, found her hanging on, just as he
was. Then they began to settle again, slowly, gently,
until once more the runabout rested on level
groundwor whatever it was resting on, since Jake
still couldn't verify any true surface beneath them.

    "I feel like a mouse being played with by a cat,"
Jake remarked. Elliena looked questioningly at him.
    "Cats," Jake explained, "are small predators from
Earth. People keep them as pets, but they retain
most of their hunter instincts. They're cute. That is,
a lot of people think they are. Mice are much
smaller, like Bajoran lopets."
    There were mice and even rats on DS9; they had
followed humanity across the stars, just as they'd
stowed away in past centuries on voyages across the
seas of earth. And of course, several people on the
station had cats. Jake didn't think Elliena had been
on the station long enough to have come across any
mice or rats, but the Bajoran equivalent, small,
furry, tailless hoarders known as 1opets were close
enough, and a few had managed to find their way
onto the station as well.
    "But these cats don't eat their prey? They just play
with it?"
    "Usually. For a while, anyway. Cats have a sense
of humor, you could say. Sometimes they'll bat the
mouse around a little once they've gotten hold of it,
to see if they can get it to run away again."
 "They make a game of it?" Elliena asked.
    "Yes, exactly. They're as playful as little kids--as
long as they're not starving, that is. Still, nobody
wants to be the mouse."
    Elliena smiled despite this last grim reference to
the two of them. "I would like to see one of these...
cats someday."

  "When we get back, I promise to show you one."
  "Don't you mean if we get back?"
    She was looking straight at him. It wasn't a fair
question, but he couldn't fault her for forcing him to
respond. "No," Jake said firmly. "When."
  Thump.
  Thump.
    The runabout started rocking again, this time
from side to side, though not so high as before and
not so gently.
    "Do you think they're trying to see if we'll run?"
Elliena asked in a hushed voice.
    "Or see if we'll do much of anything at all. Which
is why I think we should do nothing. If we just play
dead, whatever is out there might get bored and
leave us alone after a while."
    Elliena seemed to consider this a moment. "Does
that work with cats?" she asked.
    Not necessarily, Jake thought, but he told her,
"Yes, most of the time." He just hoped whatever was
out there wasn't hungry ....
    With that the runabout jumped, then jolted for-
ward several meters as if it had been kicked from
behind. Then it stopped again, though smoothly, as
though the hull had been sliding along for an instant
on some type of ice. Nothing but silence followed.
Jake still had ahold of his seat with a spasreed grip.
He forced himself to loosen his fingers, then he
realized he wasn't breathing and consciously drew a
breath and let it out.

 "Resistance," he mumbled, thinking out loud.
 Elliena stared at him. "What?"
    "Resistance. Friction. This is a level surface--at
least right here it is. Whatever pushed us used
considerable force, but we only slid a short way. We
didn't keep going, which means that the surface
we're resting on has got to be solid enough to create
some drag. Rock or soil would have stopped us cold,
but a compressed liquid or a frozen gas might cause
us to."
 "That's good, isn't it?"
    "I think so. It means we probably won't sink. It
also means that something pretty large could be
walking around out there. Or a bunch of some-
things."
    He went back to the sensors and began scanning
once more. The curious energy bursts were at a fever
pitch now and seemed to be concentrated in the area
immediately surrounding the runabout.
    "Playing dead doesn't seem to be working,"
Elliena concluded.
    Jake had been thinking the same thing. "Okay,
maybe we should try doing the opposite .... "
    Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Action was the logical next step, but the possible
outcome was far less certain. They'd had bad luck
before, when they'd tried to get away from the
phantom ship that had brought them here. Besides,
Jake had no idea how to communicate with whatev-
er was out there, or if communication was even

possible. He had to consider the possibility that if he
did the wrong thing, the consequences might be
deadly.
    "All right," Elliena said hesitantly. "What do you
have in mind?"
    "Something subtle. Something that won't use
much power. We haven't got any to spare. But
nothing that might be considered a hostile act. A
benign signal of some kind."
  "Why not flick the lights?"
    Jake hadn't thought of that. The Rio Grande had
numerous exterior lights, and he was guessing most
of them were operational. In fact, he suddenly
realized, those lights might be the very thing that
had drawn attention to the ship.
    On the other hand, they had been brought here
deliberately; there was no question about that. So
someone knew they were here. But Jake wasn't
convinced that their abductors were responsible for
what was happening now.
    Whatever was thumping and jostling the runabout
seemed curious, perhaps even playful, but it wasn't
acting like the kind of alien who might be capable of
the advanced technology and the violent attacks he
had witnessed back at the station.
    "Let's try it," he said. "Computer, darken all
interior and exterior lighting for five seconds, then
restore for another five seconds. Continue that pat-
tern for thirty seconds."
 "Is it okay if I'm a little bit scared?" Elliena asked.

She did not sound fearful, but she reached out and
took Jake's hand again. He held it gently. "Yeah," he
said. "Mind if I join you?"
 She smiled weakly and squeezed.
 Then the lights went out.
    They came back on. Nothing had changed. They
went out once more, then came on, repeating until
the sequence ended. Still nothing. Jake found he'd
been holding his breath.
    "Maybe they can't see the lights?" Elliena sug-
gested. "You know--no eyes, no faces."
    That was entirely possible, given the environment.
Vision in specific bandwidths was the sort of evolu-
tionary trait that showed up only where it was
needed. Jake glanced at the sensor displays once
more, and his eyes went wide. He let go of Elliena's
hand and leaned forward to hover directly over the
console.
  "What's wrong?"
    "Nothing... exactly," Jake replied. "But some-
thing's going on out there. I'm reading an oxygen-
nitrogen atmosphere now. It's all around us. Breath-
able air. And the outside temperature has gone up to
twenty degrees Celsius. I'm getting more aggregate
readings, too."
    "The mist is still there," Elliena observed, "but it
does look a lot thinner."
  "And the colors are gone. It's all gray and white
now."
  "What do you suppose this means?"

    "For one thing, it means we can probably get out
and have a look around if we want to... if what
we're seeing is real."
  "Which could be a big 'if.'"
  "I guess so."
    "You think whoever is out there wants us to come
out?"
    "I think so," Jake replied. "Why else would they
create a friendly environment around the run-
about?"
    Elliena nodded in agreement. They sat contem-
plating each other for a time, neither one speaking.
      "Of course," Jake said, "that doesn't have to mean
these life-forms are friendly."  "I knew that."
    Jake shrugged. "We should wait awhile to see if
the environment is going to go away. But if it
doesn't, we'll have to step out sooner or later, and
maybe we'll see who brought us here."  "Agreed."
     Jake took a deep breath and sat back. "We'll give it
ten minutes."  "Okay."
    Jake didn't say anything else while the time
passed, and neither did Elliena. After nine minutes
and a few seconds Jake shook the tension out of his
shoulders, then stood up. Elliena followed. She put a
hand on his shoulder, and together they moved
toward the hatch.

0

CHAPTER
      17

"I THINK YOU'RE about to overload the universal
translator," Odo said, leaning close to Major Kira's
ear.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Dax said, overhearing.
Kira didn't say a thing. She was too busy keeping
her eyes on all the participants. One by one, in the
station's largest meeting room, they had gathered
around the big table she had ordered set up. Kira sat
at one end with Quark and Lieutenant Dax on her
left, Bashir and Commander Worf on her right. Odo
stood just behind her left shoulder, where he was
simultaneously a comfort to her and a vexing pres-
ence to Quark. Odo seldom entered into diplomatic
dealings, but in this instance Kira had encouraged
him to put in a word if he felt so inclined.
 The rest of the chairs, two on either side of the

table, were filled by the visiting commanders: Flenn
of the Aulep, Dorram of the Rylep, Bedal of the
Beshiel, and Klarn of the Ferengi. Of course they
had begun arguing the moment they entered the
room.
    "This had better be brief and worth my while,"
Klarn said, finally addressing Kira. He had beamed
aboard, having refused to dock his Marauder for
"security" reasons. The others had made docking
arrangements and come aboard, so Klarn's action
had only added to the tension and soured everyone's
mood, including Kira's, a bit further.
    Kira sighed as Bedal leaped to his feet and shook a
meaty fist at both Flenn and Dorram.
    "We'd appreciate it if everyone could be seated
now," Odo said firmly, placing a steady hand on the
Beshiel's shoulder and gently pressing the com-
mander back down into his chair. Bedal did not
resist.
    Flenn and Dorram rose in concertma first, to
Kira's eyes--to ward off Bedal's sudden bluster. But
when Odo's security team moved toward them, they
too settled back down.
    For a brief moment this seemed to bring a relative
quiet to the room, but in a few breaths the din rose
again in earnest, rapidly becoming another shouting
match. Kira looked to Klarn, who she noticed was
uniquely silent. He appeared to be listening intently
to the accusations and threats being bandied about.
But even as she watched, she observed his mood

turn from one of concentration to one of contempt.
He leaned forward abruptly and slammed his fists
onto the table, an action that once again brought an
almost instant stillness. All eyes were on the Ferengi
now.
    "You people are pathetic," Klarn said, measuring
every word. "There is no profit in arguing like
children, and little hope that any of you will mature
in the course of this meeting. You insist on behaving
like fools. So I'll make this simple for you. I will be
compensated in full for the crystalsmequally by
each of you, by tomorrow~or I will commence
obliterating your ships one at a time until I get what
I want. After that, your threats will not make a
difference to anyone, especially me!"
    "No one is going to obliterate anyone," Kira said
sharply. "We've had too many threats and missteps
already. We are here to find solutions to your prob-
lems, not to encourage discord. As a representative
of Bajor I do not want a lot of new problems from
the Gamma Quadrant spilling over into Bajoran
space, and neither does the Federation. With the
Dominion up to no good, we've already got our
hands full."
    "And I will not allow any of you to make this
station your personal battleground," Odo added. "It
is my job to keep the peace, and you can be certain
that is exactly what I intend to do--whatever it
takes."
  "If I may," Dr. Bashir said, glancing at Kira. She

nodded for him to continue. "I would rather not
have my infirmary piled high with casualties, and I
don't think the rest of you really want that either.
Surely you can resolve your differences without
beating on one another or blowing each other up."
    "No problem is without solutions," Dax said.
Kira heard her speaking with the wisdom of a Trill's
multiple lifetimes' experience, something she was
glad for just now. Dax frowned at the meeting's
attendee. "Is anyone here incapable of comprehend-
ing that idea?"
    The combatants were looking at one another, their
expressions twisting nervously. Kira nodded with
satisfaction. When the question was put that way, it
seemed, no one wanted to answer in the affirmative.
    "I think Klarn had the right idea," Odo offered,
moving back around the table and looking down his
nose at the only other Ferengi present. "It seems to
me that Quark is the one who ought to make things
right among his associates, one way or another. After
all, if it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't be having
this discussion right now."
 "I agree!" Klarn burst out.
    Flenn, Dorram, and Bedal all chimed in, with
considerable enthusiasm.
 "Any response, Quark?" Kira asked.
    Quark had that look again--the sort that usually
proceeds from an intestinal blockage. "That sugges-
tion is outrageous," he said anxiously, as though the
ceiling might fall on him at any instant. "I can't
afford to pay full compensation, even if you find

214

some sort of twisted justification for it, which there
isn't."
    All four visitors broke into a fresh chorus off
demands and accusations, though their words con-
tained nothing that hadn't been said before. Kira,
frowning, kept her attention on Quark. He was
sitting there now, numbly listening to the torrent of
abusive shouting directed at him. Though for all his
melancholy, much of his trepidation seemed gone
now, as if he had begun to grow weary.
    "They're out for blood," Kira said. "Probably
yours."
 Quark nodded. "I know."
 "If only it was that simple," Odo said.
    "Agreed, but it's not, and this is getting us no-
where," K_ira said, as Dax stood up and attempted to
once again restore order. "I don't think these people
are capable of reason," Kira said to Quark. "But
perhaps you could come up with something that will
suffice."
    "You know, Major," Quark said evenly, "some-
times you get a question with no right answer."
    Dax had the others somewhat subdued again. Kira
turned to Worf, who had been completely silent so
far.
 "Holding back?" she asked.
    "All three races are impossible to deal with," Worf
said. "As far as I can determine, the Aulep, the
Rylep, and the Ferengi are entirely without honor. I
do not know how such races can survive. The Rylep
and the Aulep especially. I have no sympathy for

them, and while I will assist you any way I can, I
have no wish to involve myself any more than
necessary."
    "Worf is just following my advice," Dax said. "I
told him that it might be advisable for him to say as
little as possible."
    Worf made a growling sound somewhere deep in
his throat.
    Rom appeared in the doorway carrying a tray of
drinks, giving everyone pause. He waited while the
guards posted at the entrance stepped out of the way.
Then he headed for the table and placed the visitors'
drinks in front of them. Following Kira's lead, none
of the station personnel had ordered anything.
    "So, brother," Rom said, leaning close to one of
Quark's great ears but speaking loudly enough. "I
notice you can't find a way to make this deal work
out."
    "Your support is overwhelming," Quark grum-
bled.
    Rom shook his head like a sculptor considering a
ruined piece. "What's the matter?" he gloated. "You
had plenty to say the other day."
    "You live, you learn," Quark said. He sounded
almost indignant, Kira thought. He waved Rom
away. "Now go on. I have to think. Something you
probably wouldn't understand."
 Rom grinned as he moved on.
    Kira stepped forward and clapped sharply to get
everyone's attention. "The reality you each seem
reluctant to face is that without any merchandise,

216

the deal that brought all of you here is extinct. And
while there is plenty of blame to go around, and
plenty of deserving shoulders to rest it on, no one
person deserves it all. You threaten one another, but
you must admit that none of you stands to gain from
attempting to annihilate the other."
    "There is everything to gain from the destruction
or, at the very least, the prompt imprisonment of
these Aulep pirates," Dorram declared. "And my
people are not alone in that opinion."
    "I challenge you to cite one single creature in all
the cosmos who would mourn your passing!" Flenn
responded.
    "The Aulep and the Rylep are festering lesions
that should be removed from the face of the uni-
verse!" Bedal said. "They will stop at nothing, even
going so far as to build Beshiel look-alike ships to
trick us, so they can ravage our colonies and pillage
our trade routes!"
    "It is the Rylep who have done all this and more
to us," Flenn said. "They have tried to fool us with
an exotic new vessel that we take to be our own, until
it is too late."
    "More lies!" Dorram roared. "The Aulep con-
structed a highly advanced mock Rylep cruiser
capable of destroying our ships with complete
impunity--proof that nothing is beneath them and
that they are becoming much too dangerous!"
    Klarn and leaned over the table, wide nostrils
flaring. "I would be happy to destroy any and all of
you, any ship that looked as if it belonged to any of

you, and perhaps Quark in the bargain, on behalf of
any party who chooses to compensate me in full for
my losses, which now include this colossal waste of
time!"
    "They sounded like they're talking about the
freighter that attacked the Toknor," Worf said,
heedful.
Dax nodded. "I was just thinking the same thing."
"Gentlemen," Kira said, acknowledging both offi-
cers, then turning to the others. "I suspect that there
is some connection between all these look-alike
ships firing on one another."
    "Of course--the Rylep and the Aulep are cocon-
spirators!" said Bedal.
    "You mean the Beshiel and the Aulep!" Dorram
said.
    "I say the conspirators are the Beshiel and the
Rylep!" Flenn answered them.
  "I knew he would say that," Worf said, frowning.
    "We're still not getting anywhere," Dax said,
shaking her head wearily.
    "The situation does look a bit hopeless," Kira
accorded her.
 "Maybe not," said Quark.
Kira turned and looked at him. "It's not?"
Quark held her gaze for a moment, and she saw
intense concentration in his eyes. He looked almost
frightening--like someone preparing to justify his
behavior to his maker, though she saw something
that reminded her of a cornered predator as well.
 Quark slowly turned to the others seated at the

table, who were avidly continuing their arguments,
and his expression began to change. He began using
his stubby fingers as if to categorize whatever he was
thinking about.
    Kira looked on with mounting curiosity. "What is
it, Quark?" she asked. "What are you up to?"
    Quark swallowed hard. "Major, I think I've found
a way out of this."
 "This I have to hear," Odo said politely.
 "I'm listening," Kira told Quark.
    "Maybe I should just begin," Quark said hoarsely.
He put his hand on Kira's forearm. She had an urge
to pull away, but did not. "It would take too long to
explain," he added.
 "Try me," Kira said.
     Quark's eyes narrowed. "No," he said. "We don't
have a lot of time. Just listen to them."
  "Thieves!" Dorram was shouting.
  "Parasites!" Ftenn countered.
  "Barbarians!" Bedal told them both.
  "Worthless fools!" Klarn told the entire room.
  "Bodies will soon be piling up all over this sta-
  tion," Quark continued in earnest, "and one of them
  might be mine. Major, please, just follow my lead."
    She leaned toward him. "Quark, you've got to be
kidding."
    "I've never been more serious in my life. Do as I
ask, just this once. Trust me."
    Kira's eyebrows went all the way up. "Trust...
you?"
  "I don't want to get in the middle of this," Dr.

Bashir said, his first words in several minutes, "but
at this point I'd say that even playing along with
Quark probably can't hurt."
    Quark made a face that somehow managed to mix
chagrin and distress in equal parts.
    Kira shrugged. She might as well give it a try.
"They're all yours, Quark."
    Slowly Quark stood up, then waved stubby fingers
through the air. "Gentle-beings, may I have your
attention?"
    He did not get their attention. He drew a deep
breath, furrowed his brow, slapped his hands down
on the table Klarn-like, and yelled: "Shut up and
listen! All of you!"
    This seemed to have the desired effect, Kira
thought.
    "Now, what we have here is a case of extreme
shortsightedness, which has left all of you blind to
the considerable assets, resources, and opportunities
available here. You're all so busy worrying about the
mistakes of the past that you're ignoring the future."
    "Get to the point, Quark," Klarn said. "That is, if
you have one."
    "I intend to," Quark replied, beginning to show
his form, flashing DaiMon Klarn an impish, almost
condescending smile. Kira watched with increasing
amazement. Quark clearly had hold of something
solid, and he wasn't about to let go.
    "For starters," Quark said, 'Td like to ask the
Beshiel what they have been doing, and what they

intend to do in the future, with the all of the riches
they now mine?"
    "We sell them, of course," Bedal said. "We've had
trade agreements with two neighboring star systems
for many years, and we have been negotiating with
another, but we have to contend with constant raids,
which disrupt our deliveries."
    Quark nodded. "So you have only two customers
now?"
Bedal glanced briefly about before saying, "Yes."
"But I'd bet your production capabilities are
much greater than that."
    "They... might be," Bedal said, clearly growing
suspicious.
    "Well, you see, you need new customers!" Quark
grinned only slightly as he leaned toward Klarn.
"And those customers should be the Ferengi!"
    The combatants exchanged glances, but for a tense
moment no one said a word. Klarn opened his
mouth to speak.
    "Instead of a onetime deal, the Ferengi can buy
regular shipments," Quark went on, interrupting
Klarn with perfect timing. "And not just of one kind
of crystal, either. You'll also have the Federation as a
customer if you do this right. Possibly Bajor as well.
Best of all, their ships will come to you. The Domin-
ion is a real threat, but the Ferengi have been
conducting trade in the Gamma Quadrant for some
time now, and the Jem'Hadar have left them alone.
The Federation, of course, can take care of itself. As

221

for other local threats, I'd be willing to bet that there
aren't many races in your part of the galaxy that
would be foolish enough to attack Federation or
Ferengi vessels in open space."
  "No one with any sense," Worf said.
    "I'd say that's a fair statement," Kira said. She
looked at Flenn, then at Klarn, following Quark's
sharp gaze.
    "What do you say to that, Klarn?" Quark asked
the brooding DaiMon.
    Klarn seemed to grow more reflective. "I say...
let anyone try to stop one of our ships from taking
delivery."
    "Perhaps even the Klingons would be interested
in a trade agreement," Quark added, looking to
Worf. "I certainly don't think anyone is eager to
attack them."
    Worf shot back a look of collusion, then paused
before answering. "I can not speak for my people,
but they are clearly attempting to establish them-
selves on both sides of the wormhole. Trade is
already a part of that effort. And I'm sure they
would... welcome, equally, any attempt to assist
or to stop them."
    "Of course!" Quark added, turning to Kira, his
expression conveying an urgent appeal for contin-
ued support. "Major, tell them about Bajor."
    "Yes," Kira said, amazed and catching up. "Yes,
I'm certain Bajor and the Federation would be
pleased to open trade with the Beshiel and perhaps

to offer short-term assistance, should any be re-
quired. Along with currency, I'd say that technolog-
ies can be exchanged as well. With time, the Beshiel
might be able to upgrade their fleet so that the threat
from interlopers would be lessened."
    "We might also be able to offer medical assist-
ance," Bashir offered, "in return for..." He
paused, clearly at a loss. "For whatever it is we'll
want."
    Kira turned toward Dorram. He seemed to find
the tabletop quite interesting just then. When no one
said anything else, he cleared his throat. "But what
of us?" he asked, though not of anyone in particular.
"How does all of this benefit the Rylep?"
"Or the Aulep?" Flenn said, his voice hardening.
"What about that, Quark?" Dax asked.
"It's a big quadrant," Quark scoffed. "If I know
Aulep and the Rylep, it won't take them long to
think of something."
    Odo looked at Flenn and Dorram. "For the time
being," he said, "I would advise you two to consider
another line of work."
    Bedal seemed quite pleased with everything he
was hearing, but now he turned to Odo. "Consta-
ble," he said, "it is no doubt a sad thing, but I do not
believe that Flenn and Dorram know how to do
anything else. They have always been thieves."
    "Perhaps that's true," Kira said, getting every-
one's attention as she sorted through thoughts that
were still coming to her. "But they do know their

way around your sector of the Gamma Quadrant.
And there must be many other races on other
worlds, many buyers, even sellers, waiting to be
found. You'll all have to go a little farther, work a
little harder, but it seems to me that Flenn and
Dorram could do what Quark does: broker deals for
the Beshiel and for whoever else is involved--for a
reasonable percentage of the profit, of course. In
fact," she added, leaning toward Quark and lightly
stroking one of his very large and sensitive ears to
ensure his compliance, 'Tll bet that's just what
Quark was about to say."
    Quark looked strained, but then his face softened
and his eyes grew keen. "Actually, Major, that's not
a bad idea."  "I know."
    "But there are so many possible trading partners,"
Klarn said, clearly restless. "Major, surely you'd
agree that too much competition is not a good
thing."
    Kira grinned at him. "Urn, no, I would not agree
with that at all."
    Quark turned to Klarn and shook his head. "For-
get it," he said. "She's hopeless."
    Kira found Flenn and Dorram huddled together
over their end of the table, mumbling away and
nodding with reserved but apparently genuine agree-
ment about something. Kira didn't care what that
was all about; she just took it as a very good sign.
 "The entire arrangement sounds quite marvel-

ous," Dax said. "Both Quark and Major Kira should
be commended."
 "I agree," Bashir chimed in.
    Kira sat back and breathed an enormous sigh.
"Very well," she said. "Why don't we take a break,
get everyone settled in, then start working out all the
details. DaiMon Klarn, maybe we could even get
that Marauder of yours docked."
    "I... think we can do that," Klarn said cau-
tiously.
 "Excellent." Kira stood up. "Dax?"
 "I'11 see to it," she said.
    The mood remained hopeful as everyone rose.
Kira decided she hadn't felt this relieved in months.
    "You know, Quark," Odo said, coming around the
table and putting one hand on the Ferengi's shoul-
der. "Sometimes you surprise me."
"I was about to say the same thing," Kira said.
"Well, it's about time someone said something
nice to me," Quark replied. "I've never claimed to
know everything, but once in a while I outdo my-
self."
"In a manner of speaking," Odo muttered.
Quark ignored him. "These sorts of negotiations
are kind of exciting, when you think about it, even
when you think you might lose. But that's what I like
about gambling. It's exactly like life, a great and
complicated game. You learn something new every
day, but you can never foresee the outcome."
 "Unless you cheat," Odo said.

"Thanks for pointing that out," said Quark.
"Why, you're welcome," Odo said with flair.
"You can all be as smug as you like," Quark
replied, "but has anyone noticed that I'm the only
one who came up empty-handed in all of this?"
    "Oh, I don't know," Kira cooed softly, "you have
our undying gratitude."
    Odo grinned sharply at Quark. "Well, you have
Kira's, at least."
    Quark shook his head and headed toward the
corridor.
    "Getting back to the Gamma Quadrant," Kira
said, turning to the others. "I think things here will
be calm for a day or so. Meanwhile, we've got some
people missing."
    "I was wondering when you'd get back to that,"
Bashir said.
"The Defiant is on standby," Worf reported.
That was exactly what Kira had wanted to hear.
But she had changed her mind about the command
of the search mission. Sisko had left her in charge of
the station; this was Bajoran space, and Kira had
been dealing with the people in this sector and
serving as first officer on Deep Space Nine for a long
time. And although Worf outranked her, he had
never challenged her authority here. But aboard a
starship traveling into the unknown, Worf was
deafly the veteran, and he had made the Defiant his
personal pastime, had even moved into one of its
crew quarters. Kira had no reservations about defer-
ring to him now.

    "Commander," she said, standing straight before
him, "You will command this mission."
    Worf looked at her with solemn eyes and nodded
once. "Acknowledged," he said simply. He turned to
address the others present. "We will assemble
aboard the Defiant in thirty minutes," he said. Then
he headed out of the room.

CHAPTER
      18

O'BRIEN WATCHED SISKO play his fingers over the
runabout's helm controls, only to wind up shaking
his head in frustration. The news wasn't good.
    "We'll be lucky if we make orbit," O'Brien said
cheerlessly. "We have enough power, the planetoid's
gravity isn't strong, and I can't see anything wrong
with the controls, but somehow we're not making
the trajectory."
    He'd tried every available bypass and auxiliary
system; he'd even attempted to patch impulse power
through one of the warp nacelle EPS power feeds,
but none of his efforts had done the trick. Available
impulse power had reached what should have been a
sufficient level to push them into a high orbit and
keep them there, but that just wasn't happening.
 "Our course is much too steep, that's certain,"

Sisko said as he continued working the controls,
trying to correct the runabout's course. The tension
was clear on his face, something O'Brien didn't get a
chance to see very often. The captain was as cool as
they came--too cool at times, according to somem
but that suited O'Brien well enough. He didn't like
commanders who overreacted and fussed all the
time, the kind who got so involved in other people's
jobs that they wound up making those jobs impossi-
ble to accomplish. Benjamin Sisko had the ability to
recognize competence and act accordingly. The
catch was that you had to live up to his expectations.
When he needed you to come up with results, you
just didn't let him down. And now, letting the
captain down was exactly what O'Brien felt he was
doing.
    "What are the chances that we'll burn up?" Sisko
asked, though O'Brien thought he'd guessed the
answer already.
    "It's a possibility," the chief admitted. "Too soon
to say for sure. As long as we maintain control we
stand a better than even chance. From what I read of
that atmosphere, it's pretty thin. We should be able
to fly around in there, at least for a while."  Sisko looked at him. "But?"
    "I wouldn't count on it. I mean, we should be able
to change course, too, but we can't."
  "Then we'll just keep working at it."
    Sisko sat back suddenly and let his hands hang in
the air before him, and O'Brien thought he might be

about to pound both of them on the runabout's
console. Instead he pressed his palms together,
prayerlike, deep in thought. "It's as if something is
pulling at us just hard enough to prevent whatever
we try to do, thwarting our efforts each time we
make a move," he said.
    "I'm still scanning for tractor beams or forcefields,
but I'm not picking anything up--at least not in
proximity to us," O'Brien said. "I'm just reading
that low-frequency scan, same as before."
    "I know, but everything we've seen so far has been
barely detectable on our sensors--the other Klingon
freighter, the other runabout--yet they seem to have
had more than enough power and substance to
destroy anyone who engaged them. At such faint
levels it's almost impossible to analyze a scan cor-
rectly, even in open space; that planetoid is still
emitting enough random energy to scramble any
normal signal."
    "Aye," O'Brien said simply. The captain knew
almost as much about science and engineering as his
science and engineering officers. That was some-
thing else O'Brien admired about him. That and the
fact that Sisko didn't use his own expertise as a
wedge between himself and his people.
    O'Brien tried one last revised subroutine designed
to circumvent the impulse engine's balance limita-
tions. The result was minimal.
    "Sorry," O'Brien said, looking up from his con-
soles, shaking his head slowly. "That's all you're

going to get out of her for now. I don't think it'll be
enough."
 "Even though it should be."
    O'Brien shrugged. "Nothing lately has been what
it should be."
    O'Brien watched the planetoid grow large in the
windows again, its swirling gases spinning in dull
shades of orange, pink, and white. "There must be
something there," he said.
    "I've got a feeling we're about to find out, one way
or the other." Sisko went back to hovering over the
helm controls as if willing them to do his bidding.
O'Brien had seen that technique work more than
once.
    Another few moments passed as visible wisps of
atmosphere began to slither past the windows, sig-
naling the beginning of their descent. "Coming up
on entry," he said. "We should start getting a bit
warm."
    "Maybe not, Chief. The helm is responding a little
better. I'm getting latitude control back."
    O'Brien peered at his consoles, surprised. "I'm
reading increased power flow."
    "It might just be enough to pull us out of this dive
and into a low orbit."
    "I think you're right," O'Brien said, attempting to
verify. "But don't ask me to explain what the hell is
going on."
    The runabout rattled and shook for several sec-
onds, and O'Brien felt his insides swirl. Then the

ride became smooth. He heard Sisko exhale with
relief as the planet stopped charging up toward them
and began instead to turn beneath them.
    "We won't be able to maintain such a low orbit for
long," O'Brien reported. "Still, it might give me
time to get the engines working well enough to get us
out of here."
    "I don't know about that, Chief. We may not be
leaving just yet."
    O'Brien looked up, saw the captain intent on his
instruments again. "Why not?"
    "What do you make of this?" Sisko asked, point-
ing to a sensor display. O'Brien's eyes opened wide
as he ran a quick check of his own. The anomaly he
was reading on the planet below covered an area
several dozen meters across, an islandlike bubble
containing an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and dis-
playing consistent coordinates. A remarkably stable
area, O'Brien decided, as he continued to analyze
the readings.
    "I don't know," O'Brien said, "but it shouldn't be
there."
"We're losing altitude again," Sisko said flatly.
Once more O'Brien turned his attention to the
flight stats. It was true. They were going down, and
quickly. "This just doesn't make sense!" O'Brien
said, his Irish brogue getting noticeably thicker as
his frustration increased.
    "Well, it's nice to know this can't be happening,"
Sisko said, shaking his head. "So how about fixing
it?"

232

    "Yes sir," O'Brien said, somewhat chagrined. He
started running systems checks again, the same ones
he had just run through only a few minutes ago. This
planet seemed determined to see the Rubicon de-
stroyed in a fiery, falling blaze, no matter what he
tried to do to stop it, but that didn't mean he could
lessen his efforts. There had to be an answer.
    "I'm picking something up now," Sisko said.
"There."
    O'Brien followed the captain's finger to one of the
sensor displays. What he saw reminded him of a
small beacon, a thin beam of energy no more intense
than that of a handheld flashlight, but more concen-
trated than anything they'd detected so far. It was
emanating from the atmospheric bubble on the
planetold below, and its target was clearly the Rubi-
con. The chief wasn't sure whether the beam had just
been activated or whether their proximity to its
source had made it more easily detectable.
 "Looks like we're being guided down," he said.
    "It does at that," Sisko said. "I just hope they
know what they're doing."
    "If they don't, there isn't going to be much left of
us once we finally do arrive."
    The runabout surged, then slowed and adjusted its
trajectory to the proper angle of descent, more or
less. Control was beginning to return yet again. Sisko
worked, with no success, to correct their flight path.
    "I'd say we're supposed to head for that bubble of
atmosphere," O'Brien said, pointing.

    "It looks that way. What do the scans show
now?"
    "A hotbed of electromagnetic plasma currents.
Other than that, nothing has changed."
    "Have you noticed that our little look-alike run-
about has stopped tailing us?"
    In truth, O'Brien had nearly forgotten about it. "I
guess I haven't," he said.
    "You've been a bit busy, Chief. That's why I
pointed it out. I get the feeling that everything here
is being orchestrated by someone, probably on the
planetoid itself, someone who's using it as a base,
perhaps. And I wouldn't be surprised if what's
happening to us isn't exactly what happened to Jake
and Elllena. That might explain why we haven't seen
a trace of them anywhere."
    "We're nearing the surface," O'Brien said, tapping
at the sensor panel. "Or what I think is a surface,
although we're not picking up anything solid. Not
yet, anyway. The interference is pretty bad."
  "I'm going to try bringing her in."
    "Right." O'Brien watched every system, looking
for any bit of energy or control he could give the
captain.
    "You've got thrusters," he told Sisko a moment
later, and he watched the captain fire them almost
instantly. The Rubicon bobbed gently, then leveled
out, drifting through a thick yellow cloud. It slid into
a lighter field of swirling haze, then down again until
it finally came to rest. Outside, through the win-

dows, O'Brien saw a twilight world of changing gray-
and-white mist.
  He glanced at Sisko. "Now what?"
    Sisko took a deep breath, then huffed it out.
"Unless we can think of a reason not to, I don't think
we have any choice but to get out and have a look
around. According to our sensors, the atmosphere is
breathable. Bring a tricorder. I'm going to want
continuous scans."
  "Right behind you."
    They made their way to the hatch, opened it, and
stepped out onto the alien surface--a dark material
that resembled pavement, though it was a little
smoother and, as O'Brien discovered when he bent
over to touch the ground, slightly warm. He sniffed
cautiously. The air had no odor at all, but it was
moist, warm, and pleasant--except for the mist,
which reduced visibility to only a few meters.
    "We'll walk circles clockwise around the run-
about, then widen our course each time around,"
Sisko said. "Keep scanning. Maybe we'll run into
something."
    "We could walk right into each other in this
soup," O'Brien grumbled, though he was already
moving. They walked slowly, minding the extent of
their visual range so as not to step off any cliffs or
into any holes. After the fifth circle, which was wide
enough for them to lose sight of the runabout
completely, they found no irregularities on the sur-
face or in the mist. In fact, they found nothing at all.

i!:!

    "It's as if we're being stored here for safekeeping,"
O'Brien finally said.
 "But for what purpose?"
 "I kind of hate to think about it."
    O'Brien jumped as his tricorder chirped. He
looked down to find the EM levels leaping up the
scale from a point just a few meters away. "Energy
contact," he stated. "Dead ahead." "Source?"
    "Unknown. It's just... there. But it could have
come from anywhere around us. I don't think it's a
weapon, but there's no way to be sure."
  Sisko drew his phaser. O'Brien followed.
    "I'd rather not shoot first," Sisko said. "We don't
want anyone getting trigger-happy with us."
    O'Brien suddenly drew a breath. "Captain, I'm
reading two distinct contacts now, side by side, both
faint but steady. They've started moving." He
looked up from his tricorder. "Straight this way."
    "Phasers on stun. We'll stand our ground, but
that's all we'll do until we figure this thing out."
    O'Brien peered into the thick, swirling air before
him. "Whatever they are, we should be able to see
them right about now." He squinted, blinked,
then...
    "I see them, Captain, there." He pointed, and
Sisko's eyes followed as two humanoid figures
emerged from the mist and walked steadily closer.
They were wearing Starfleet uniforms--or what
resembled uniforms. And as they drew closer, other

specifics emerged. The devil was in the details, but
the chief recognized the taller, dark-skinned man on
the right and the slightly shorter, lighter-com-
plexioned fellow who strode along beside the
first: Captain Benjamin Sisko and Chief Miles
O'Brien.

CHAPTER
      19

JAKE STOOD CLOSE to Elliena, furtively peering into
the swirling gray-white wash that filled the air
around them. He felt inert, as though the universe
had ceased to exist as he had known it and had
shifted into some other, transitional dimension. He
glanced back at the Rio Grande, a reassuring symbol
of reality, the only one, aside from Elllena. A chill
tingled his spine; he tried to attribute it to the
dampness that made his clothing feel limp and
heavy and made his face and hands moist to the
touch. He drew a deep, calming breath and noticed
that the air had no scent to it at all.
      "Do you feel strange?" Elliena asked, her gentle
voice just above a whisper.  "What kind of strange?"
  "As if someone's watching us?"

    Jake considered this and realized she had identi-
fied part of the uneasiness he felt. But it was more
than that: he felt as if they were being probed.
"You'd think we would have been contacted by
now."
    "What's that?" Elliena said, pointing ahead and to
the left. Jake peered into the mist and saw that
something was taking shape--silhouettes emerging
slowly, growing larger.
    "Cardassians!" Elliena shrieked. She grabbed
Jake's arm and tried to pull him toward the run-
about. He blinked twice and decided she was right,
as he began to distinguish the ridges on their faces,
the thick neck arteries that fanned out on either side
of their heads and smoothed into their shoulders.
Five figures in all, each one armed with energy rifles
and dressed in standard Cardassian military uni-
forms, all of them taking aim at Jake and Elllena.
The Cardassians began to fan out, flanking their
prey.
    "We're not at war with Cardassia," Jake pointed
out.
 "Then why are they doing this to us?"
    "I was wondering the same thing," Jake said.
"Let's play it safe. Back up slowly. They could have
gunned us down already if they'd wanted to, so
maybe they want us alive."
    "Back up where?" Elliena asked, already taking
step back with Jake, reaching out to touch his arm
for guidance.

  "The runabout's hatch is still open. We might
have time to get through it before they can stop us."
  "And what then?"
  Jake saw the fear in her eyes, deeper, more intense
  than anything he had seen there before, despite all
  they had been through. The legacy of Cardassia's
  occupation of Bajor had done this to her. Jake had
  come to know enough Bajorans to understand what
  it meant to endure that kind of suffering, to live in
  that shadow.
    Major Kira had fought the Cardassians ever since
she was a child, but she had learned to deal with Gul
DuKat and numerous other Cardassian officers
since being posted to Deep Space Nine. She even got
along with Garak, the station's only resident Cardas-
sian, who in turn seemed to get along well enough
with her.
    But for Elliena it was different. Jake knew enough
earth history to draw a quick comparison. He knew
what hate groups like the Nazis had done to Jews
and others during the 1940s, what white suprema-
cists had done to his own black ancestors in the
southern United States and in Africa during past
centuries--and these were just two examples of the
long, puzzling saga of man's inhumanity to man. But
Elliena had lived more than half her life under
Cardassian occupation, and the rest of her knowl-
edge had come from firsthand accounts, stories,
books, and recorded images, all filled with the
graphic reports of what Cardassians had done to her
people and her planet. Now, before her eyes, all of

that torment had come walking out of the mist in the
form of five specters from a living nightmare.
    Jake pulled back farther, sensing the runabout
directly behind him. The soldiers were still closing
in, but they did not seem intent on stopping their
retreat.
    Jake took one more step back and reached out
behind him. The hatch was closed. He turned,
certain he hadn't left it that way. But it was closed,
and there wasn't time to reach the controls, let alone
do anything else. The approaching soldiers were
only a few meters away now, with nothing to stop
them from opening fire if he or Elliena made a
wrong move.
    "I wish Jedri were here," Elliena said, clasping
Jake's arm as their backs touched the runabout's
smooth, curved hull.
 Jake blinked. "Who?"
    "My uncle. He fought in the resistance, like Major
Kira. My parents tell many stories about him, even
when he's present. No, especially when he's around.
They embarrass him all the time, but he truly is a
great hero."
    The soldiers halted their advance just a few meters
away.
    "What do you want with us?" Jake called out to
them, sensing it was past time to do at least that
much.
    They seemed to look at one another for a moment,
but not one of them said a word. That was when Jake
began to notice certain peculiarities about them, like

the fact that they looked almost identical to one
another. He tried again, asking the same question,
but as before, the Cardassians acted as if they hadn't
understood a word.
    Then a movement caught Jake's eye, a dark shape
drifting in the mists, emerging on their right, show-
ing a flash of color. He tugged at Elliena's arm and
pointed. They watched carefully as the lone figure
broke through the mist just behind the soldiers' left
flank.
    Jake didn't recognize the man, but he was clearly
Bajoran, perhaps thirty-five and dressed in civilian
clothing, and he was carrying an energy rifle.
  "Jedri!" Elliena called out in relief. "Help us!"
  "But... how?" Jake wondered out loud.
    The Cardassians had turned toward the newcom-
er, but none of them took any action. For that
matter, neither did Elliena's uncle Jedri.
    More movement on Jake's right drew his atten-
tion. He strained his eyes to see, remaining as
patient as he could while he waited for the new
figure to get close enough, the mists to get thin
enough. He realized he was watching a young Ba-
joran woman who was pointing her weapon at the
soldiers--a woman who looked almost exactly like
Major Kira, though she wore tattered civilian cloth-
ing and her dark hair was longer. But that, Jake
knew, was impossible. At least it should have been.
The two Bajorans seemed to have the Cardassians in
a classic cross-fire pattern, but the odds were still
clearly in the soldiers' favor.

    "How did you get here?" Elliena called out to the
man she thought to be her uncle.
    No one answered. In fact, no one said or did
anything. They all just stood there, as if they were
waiting for instructions.
    "Put down your weapons or they'll shoot!" Jake
shouted at the Cardassian soldiers, thinking the
threat might be worth a try.
    Without hesitation, and much to Jake's surprise,
the Cardassians did just that.
    "Thank the Prophets!" Elliena said. "I can't be-
lieve it."
    Jake couldn't either. He moved forward slowly,
cautiously, then bent low to pick up one of the
discarded weapons. The rifle was solid enough, but
he couldn't find the firing mechanism, and the
charge-level indicator was completely blank. Never-
theless, he pointed the weapon at the soldiers as he
retreated back to Elliena's side.
"Major, what do we do now?" Elliena called.
Kira said nothing at all. In fact, she didn't move.
"They aren't real," Jake whispered to Elliena.
"Uncle Jedri?" Elliena called out, apparently un-
willing to believe what Jake had said. Her call went
unanswered.
     "They look like cattle," Jake said, considering all
seven visitors more closely. "Like what?"
    "Cows. Domesticated animals from Earth.
They're sort of dumb and lethargic."
 "Cows," Elliena repeated, trying out the word

while still staring at the Cardassians. "What do you
do to get rid of--of five cows?"
    "I'm not certain, but..." He stepped forward
and yelled, "Shoo!" waving both hands at the sol-
diers. "Shoo! Scat! Get out of here! Go on, go!"
    Elliena followed his lead. "Get going!" she called
out, waving her arms. "Go away, far away!"
    Remarkably, all five soldiers began to back away.
Major Kira and Uncle Jedri simply stood there
looking at each other as the Cardassians moved back
and gradually vanished into the mist. Uncle Jedri
finally turned and pointed his weapon at Elliena.
Kira did likewise, but instead of firing they too
began backing away, one step at a time, until they
had vanished like the others.
    Jake found himself trailing after the vanished
figures. Elliena came with him, as if drawn toward
the mystery. They continued for several paces, but
stopped when it was clear there was nothing to see.
    "I don't know what they were, but that wasn't my
uncle," Elliena said. "He's never been indecisive."
    "That woman didn't act like Major Kira, either.
She didn't even look like Kira, exactly. I don't mean
the obvious age difference. I mean her eyes, her
expressionmthey just weren't right."
    Elliena nodded, still staring into the clouds of mist
that drifted before her. Jake took her hand and held
it. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for
the strange events taking place here, but he felt
compelled to keep that fact a secret.
 "I think we have to be careful of what we say," he

suggested. "Weren't we talking about Kira and your
uncle just before they showed up?"
    "Yes, we were." Elliena seemed to reflect on the
matter, then said, "I guess we're lucky we weren't
talking about the Jem'Had--"
    "Don't say it!" Jake snapped, putting his hand
gently over her mouth. "Don't even think about it.
We weren't talking about Cardassians when the
soldiers showed up. Someone might be monitoring
our thoughts."
  Elliena nodded, and he let go.
    "You're right," she said. "Maybe we should talk
about finding a way out of here instead."
    "If my father were here, he'd know what to do,"
Jake said without thinking. Then he flinched as he
realized what he'd done. He saw Elliena flinch at the
same time. They waited for some imprecise facsimi-
le of Captain Sisko to appear, but none did.
 "I guess he's not going to show," Elliena said.
 "Guess not."
    "Jake, look there." Elliena tugged at Jake's hand.
He lifted his eyes and saw two more figures ap-
proaching, coming out of the mists. They seemed
particularly blurry and obscure, lacking detailed
features of any kind, at least from what he could see
of them so far. They vanished again as a fresh cloud
of dense mist wafted over them. Then they re-
emerged, clearer now. Closer. Neither of them was
his father, Jake was sure of that. There wasn't nearly
enough bulk or height. He noticed that the figures
weren't exactly walking, either, but instead seemed

to be floating slowly along just above the surface,
straight toward him. "Now what?" Jake grumbled.
    "I don't know, but I've had more than enough
excitement already," Elliena said.
     "Me too. I say we get back inside the runabout
until we can figure out what's going on."
  "Sounds good to me."
    Jake turned around--and froze. The Rio Grande
had disappeared.

0

CHAPTER
      2O

"Go To reputE. Full sensor sweep," Commander
Worfordered as the Defiant burst from the mouth of
the wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant.
    "I'm not picking anything up in the immediate
area," Kira replied after only a moment. "Going to
long-range scan."
    Worf leaned to one side of the Defiant's command
chair, his eyes moving from the view on the main
screen to Dax's helm station directly ahead of him,
then to the elbow-level instrument panels at his
sides. He hadn't been off the Enterprise that long,
but at times it seemed like ages. It felt good to be
back aboard a starship, though in this case the
reason was a particularly urgent one. He shifted his
weight, feeling restless. Something inside him--a
combination of Klingon blood and Starfleet train-

ing, perhaps, or the pulse of the engines in the deck
beneath his feetudrove him to want to take action.
He wasn't sure why, but he had always felt that way.
    "Lieutenant Dax," he said, "do you have an
approximate position for the planetold you told the
captain about?"
  "I've already entered the heading."
    Worf nodded, not the least bit surprised. "Ma-
jor?" he asked.
  "Still nothing out there," Kira replied.
    "Very well. Engage at warp nine. Prepare for
possible cloaking."
    "Aye, sir," Dax acknowledged. The Defiant came
about as the warp engines engaged, and the stars
blurred into motion on the external viewscreen.
    The journey would take hours, time enough to
consider what might lie ahead. Somewhere out there
were two Federation runabouts, a deadly phantom
Klingon freighter, and two Klingon warships, all of
which had apparently vanished from the immediate
vicinity of the wormhole after arriving here. At least
some of them had no doubt left of their own accord,
but surely not all. And there might be other players
as well. Renegade Rylep or Aulep ships, even Do-
minion vessels. Regardless, Worf had no intention of
allowing an unwelcome fate to befall the Defiant.
    "You have the conn, Major," he said, rising. Time
to take a quick inspection tour of the ship. He
headed for Engineering. The Defiant wasn't his, he
knew, but for now it was his responsibility.

    "Commander," Major Kira's voice said, follow-
ing a chime from WoWs comm badge. Only an hour
had passed since he left the bridge.  "What is it?"
    "You might want to get back up here. I'm picking
up a ship traveling at high warp, coming straight at
US."
    Worf nodded, mostly to himself. "I will be right
there."
    He arrived on the bridge seconds later. Kira
looked over her shoulder, acknowledging him. "I'm
getting a second ship directly behind the first one,
but it's very faint, possibly a sensor echo. The first
ship is big, possibly that Klingon attack cruiser.
We'll know in a moment."
    "Red alert," Worf ordered, on shipwide intercom.
"All hands stand by."
    A minute later Kira turned toward him once
more. "It's Drokas's ship all right, but I still can't get
an ID on the second contact--if it's there at all."
  "What about visual?" Worf asked.
  "Not yet."
    "I would not be surprised if those ships are
identical," Worf said, drawing the conclusion all too
readily.
     "Neither would I," Kira said. "What's that?" she
added, observing something that made her sit up.
 Worf let several seconds tick by. "Report?
 "Confirmedmwarp torpedoes being fired by the
 lead ship," Kira said crisply. "They're firing at the
 second ship. Return fire verified." She paused for

just an instant. "I'm reading at least one hit on the
leader. It's dropping out of warp."  "And the second ship?"
    "I'm still having trouble discerning it. It reads like
a shadow of the first one. Both ships are dropping
below light-speed."
  "Estimated time to their position?"
  "Two minutes, fourteen seconds," Dax replied.
    "Adjust course to intercept. Shields at max-
imum."
    Dr. Bashir entered the bridge and took a position
close behind Worfs left shoulder. "Find something,
Mr. Worf?"
    "Yes," Worf said. "We are trying to ascertain what
it is."
    "Do you want to engage the cloak?" Odo asked,
from his station at the Ops console.
    A stealthy approach would help to keep them out
of harm's way, but Worf wanted those ships to know
that the Defiant had arrived on the scene. He had
questions that needed answers, and he had to as-
sume time was short. Besides, he'd had his fill of
ghosts for a while.
    "Negative," he said. "Bring us out of warp just
outside of their weapon range."
    Seconds later the Defiant slowed to impulse speed,
and the stars became real again. "Arm all weapons,"
Worf said, wasting no time.
    "That may provoke them," Dax cautioned, even
as Odo went about the task.
 "Perhaps," Worf said slowly. "But if it is Drokas,

he has already been in this area for some time. He
may know where our runabouts are. If he is de-
stroyed, he will not tell us anything."
    "He might consider us an annoyance, or a threat,
and try to destroy us," Odo said, as if to no one.
    "Either way, I do not intend to let him prevent us
from finding the captain and the others. If they want
a fight," he said flatly, "I intend to give them one. If
they require assistance, we will supply that as well."
    "I have a visual on the second ship now," Kira
reported, automatically putting the image on the
screen. She had increased the viewer's magnification
to reveal a second Klingon Vor'cha-class battle cruis-
er slowly emerging from behind the first like a moon
orbiting a planet.
    "I see," Worf said concisely, but he didn't like
what he saw--two virtually identical Klingon ves-
sels chasing each other, firing at one another. He
already knew how that scenario could play out.
    "Major, adjust sensors to scan for any additional
energy anomalies out there. Odo, open hailing fre-
quencies."
    Both officers nodded and went to work. "Scan-
ning," Kira said.
 "No response to our hails," Odo said.
    Worf watched the screen. There were any number
of reasons why Drokas might not respond, and Worf
didn't like any of them. "Major?"  "Nothing."
    "I want full damage reports on each of those
ships," Worf returned.

    "Drokas's ship has already taken a beating," Kira
reported. "I'm reading shields nearly depleted.
Their warp core is intact, but their main engines are
off-line. I'm also picking up numerous other systems
failures, including aft disrupters. The second ship
doesn't read, except as a very faint energy pattern. I
can't see any damage at all."
    "Just like the second Klingon freighter at the
station," Worf said. "Can we acquire both targets?"
    "Negative," Kira replied. "I can get a lock on
Drokas's ship, but we'd be taking a primarily visual
sighting on the other cruiser."
    "I'm not sure it would do any good even if we
could hit that second ship," Dax said. "Drokas's
weapons don't seem to be having any effect on it."
    "And direct hits on the attacking ship didn't do
the Toknor any good back at the station," Odo said.
"You can't shoot what isn't there."
    "Commander, I'm picking up a fresh contact,"
Kira said abruptly. "Another energy reading, ex-
tremely faint."
    "I'11 try to get it on long-range visual," Dax
offered, tapping at her controls. On the viewscreen a
ship appeared, small but growing, and already recog-
nizable: a Federation runabout.
    "That looks like the Rubicon," Bashir said, one
hand gripping the back of Worfs command chair.
He had been quietly observing, typically leaving
tactical discussions to those who knew them best,
but the excitement in his voice was clear and under-

standable, Worf thought. O'Brien and Bashir had
become good friends in recent months. Up until this
moment, no one had had any idea whether O'Brien
and the captain were still alive. Worf saw the hope in
the doctor's eyes, but he couldn't help thinking that
perhaps it was a bit premature.
    "If that's the Rubicon, we should have solid read-
ings," Dax remarked, cooling everyone's enthu-
siasm.
    "Agreed," Worf said. "Therefore we must assume
that this is not truly one of our runabouts, that
Drokas has some knowledge of this look-alike, and
that he may have knowledge of the real Rubicon,
since the one we're tracking seems to be following
him."
"Or looking for us," Dax politely mentioned.
But as the runabout neared the cruiser's coordi-
nates, it took up a position several thousand meters
to starboard of the battle cruiser. Worf could see all
three ships plainly on the viewscreen now.
    "Still no answer to our hails from either of the
Klingon cruisers or from that runabout," Dax said.
    "Wait a minute," Kira said, concentrating on her
screens as she tapped at the pads arrayed before her.
"Drokas is up to something. I'm reading a massive
energy buildup in the cruiser's warp core."
    "I'm reading it too," Dax said. She turned and
looked over her shoulder at Worf. "At this rate, it'll
consume the containment fields and generators in a
matter of minutes."

  "Drokas's cruiser has engaged impulse engines,"
Kira said. "They're coming about ....Now they're
moving toward the second cruiser."
    "You don't suppose they're going to fly into that
second cruiser and then blow themselves up?" Odo
wondered aloud.
  "That is a possibility," Worf said.
    Dax shook her head. "No, I don't think that's it,
but they may be doing something almost as crazy. It
looks as if they're correcting their course to take
them within a few hundred meters of the other
cruiser--a near miss."
    "I don't see what good that will do them," Odo
said. "They don't have any weapons, they're badly
damaged, and they've already--"
    "They've jettisoned their warp core!" Kira said,
cutting Odo off.
    "It's headed straight for the second cruiser," Dax
said. "I estimate sixty-four seconds to breach, sixty-
three to impact."
    "Drokas is using the most destructive weapon he
has left against his opponent," Worf said, feeling a
tinge of admiration.
    "But they're sacrificing their only means of return-
ing home," Bashir said, clearly grappling with the
thought.
    "Yes," Worf replied. "But if the plan is successful,
they will have won."
    "Not unless they can get a little more power out of
their impulse engines," Kira said. "At this rate,
they're going to get caught in their own blast."

"I'm sure that wasn't part of their plan," Bashir
said, primarily to Worf.
    Worf leaned forward, tightening one fist where it
rested on the arm of the command chair. "Drokas!"
Worf shouted at the screen.
    "The channel is still open. He just isn't respond-
ing," Odo said.
    "Drokas, listen to me! You are not thinking your
actions through. Consider the mistakes of Dolras
and the Toknor, and do not repeat them. We have to
join forces. It is our only chance of defeating this
adversary."
    "It is a little late to join forces," Drokas said,
finally facing Worf on the viewscreen. He looked a
mess. Smoke and sparks filled the air on his bridge,
and one crewman, visible at his post, had a bleeding
wound on his left shoulder, where part of a bulkhead
or ceiling panel had apparently fallen on him.
Drokas himself wore a dark smudge on one side of
his face, and his hair was wet and matted just behind
his right ear.
    "It is not too late," Worf said. "Allow us to help
you. Trust me, Drokas."
    "The cruiser is losing speed," Dax reported. "The
warp core will go critical in forty-four seconds."
"How do I know I can trust you?" Drokas asked.
"You have already made that decision," Worf
said.
Drokas frowned, then nodded once. "Very well."
Worf turned to his crew. "I do not want to drop
our shields to beam all of them off the cruiser.

Lieutenant, go to full impulse, direct intercept
course. Major, lock on to Drokas's cruiser with our
tractor beam and try to extend our shields around
them."
    Instantly the Defiant leaped ahead, crossing the
distance to the Klingon cruiser, vectoring just to the
big vessel's starboard side. Worf watched the thin
modulating light of the tractor beam touch Drokas's
ship, then lost sight of it on the screen as the Defiant
surged past the cruiser.
    "We have them in tow," Kira said. "Shields ex-
tended, but their weight is straining our generators.
We might all be in trouble when that core goes up."
"Four seconds," Dax counted.
    Worf tapped at his own controls, and the screen
displayed an aft view. Most of Drokas's ship was
visible off the port side of the Defiant's stern. Be-
yond it, the second cruiser floated in silence, as if
patiently awaiting its fate. He couldn't see the jetti-
soned warp core anymore. It had already reached its
target. Then the screen went blindingly bright as the
intensity of the antimatter explosion lit the night.
    "All hands, brace for impact!" Worf commanded,
as the bridge crew grabbed anything stable. The
shock wave arrived seconds later, a massive impact
that seemed to slam into every part of the ship's
armored hull at once. The bridge was cast in mo-
mentary darkness as the Defiant tried to shake itself
apart. Then it was over; the lights came back on. The
wave had passed.
 Worf loosened his fierce grip on the arms of the

command chair and looked about. Major Kira had
ended up on the floor, but she was getting up
already, going back to her post.
 Worf frowned. "Damage report."
    "A few system overloads," Odo said. "Power
grids, plasma conduits. Backups functioning prop-
erly. Injuries are minor."
    Worf nodded in satisfaction. "What about
Drokas?"
    "The cruiser was torn loose from our tractor
beam," Dax said. "It's drifting."
    "The crew is all right, as far as I can tell," Kira
said, still breathing hard. "I've terminated the trac-
tor beam, and I'm reconfiguring our shields."
  "Acknowledged," Worf said.
    "How did you know Drokas would trust you?"
Odo asked the commander, when a moment of
silence had passed.
    "Drokas has a great deal of experience. A warrior
does not last that long without learning to judge
those he encounters quickly and correctly."
    "Commander, you aren't going to believe this, but
that second cruiser is still there," Dax said, putting
the image on the screen. Worf could see the phantom
attack cruiser and the phantom Rubicon clearly. As
far as he could tell, neither ship had changed a bit.
    "Drokas has impulse engines online again," Kira
reported. "He's coming about, but he's turning away
from the other ships... and us."
    "Hail him again," Worf said, letting irritation
show in his tone, feeling better for it. Odo sent the

message, and Drokas appeared on the screen once
more.
    "This is Commander Worf. We are willing to offer
assistance. In return, we would like any information
you have regarding our runabouts."
  "Isn't that one of them?" Drokas asked.
    "No," Worf said. "That is an energy echo of some
kind, a ghost ship. We are interested in finding the
real runabout. What do you know?"
    Drokas narrowed his eyes. "It would appear you
know more than we do." He sounded utterly cheer-
less. "Perhaps it is you who should explain all this to
me."
  Odo looked up. "We asked you first."
    "We must know what has happened to Captain
Sisko and the others," Worf said. "Until you have
answers for us, do not require any of us."
  "Then we have very little to talk about."
  "Perhaps you are right," Worf said slowly.
    'Tll say this for you, Worf: you are not what I
would have expected."
  "And you are everything I expected."
    Drokas stared from the screen for a moment,
silent, then nodded once, a barely perceptible move-
ment, and signed off:
    "Do you think he'll attempt another attack on the
phantom?" Bashir asked.
    Worf stared straight ahead. "No. Drokas no longer
has the resources. And I believe he now knows that,
even fully armed, attacking these phantom ships is
suicide."

    "So was attacking the station," Odo pointed out,
"but that didn't stop Gowron and half the Klingon
Empire from trying it a few months ago."
    "Drokas is veering off," Kira said. "I think he's
heading back toward the wormhole."
    "The journey will take months at partial im-
pulse," Dax said.
    "Drokas is still being followed closely by the
phantom warship," Kira added. "It's matching his
speed and course."
 "Any sign of hostility?" Worf asked.
    "Not at the moment," Kira said, "but we've got
movement out there. The phantom Rubicon is clos-
ing on our position."
    "I don't think we should provoke them," Bashir
suggested.
    "Are we going after Drokas?" Kira asked, turning,
looking at Worf with steady and impartial eyes.
Clearly she had her own ideas as to what his answer
should be, but Worf understood she would accept
whatever command he gave.
    "No," he said. That seemed to be the answer she
hoped for. "We'll continue on course toward the
planetoid."
    "What about our friend out there?" Odo asked,
nodding toward the screen. The ghostly image of the
Rubicon floated there--real, but not real.
    "Ignore the phantom, unless they give us reason to
do otherwise," Worf replied. "Lieutenant Dax, you
have your orders."
  "Aye, sir," Dax responded.

    The Defiant leaped to warp speed once more, then
continued accelerating until it had achieved a factor
of eight, more than one thousand times the speed of
light. The phantom Rubicon followed along, main-
taining the same speed and distance for the next
several hours. It was still there when Worf gave the
order to drop back out of warp.
    "We're approaching the planetoid," Dax said a
few moments later.
    "One-quarter impulse power," Worf said. "Pro-
ceed to a standard orbit and begin scanning."
    As the Defiant settled into orbit, Worf rose from
the command chair and went to hover over Major
Kira's shoulder. He watched the sensor displays for
a time, looking in particular for the spectral signa-
ture of a federation hull.
    "Anything at all?" he asked, after the first full
pass.
    "Scans are inconclusive," Kira said, "and I see no
sign of our people, but something is definitely going
on down there on that planetoid."  "Explain."
    "Dozens of high-energy impulses are going off all
over the place. Some of them are pretty intense.
They seem concentrated in one area near the equa-
tor, and I'm detecting a region of uncharacteristic
M-class atmosphere at those same coordinates. It's
like a giant bubble filled with air."
    "But how is that possible?" Bashir asked. "There
isn't any natural phenomenon that could account for
it, is there?"

 "None that I know of," Kira replied.
    "It is possible, however, that the others are down
there," Worf said, studying the readings himself.
    "Possible," Dax agreed. "But why aren't we read-
ing the runabouts?"
    "With all that plasma activity, I'm surprised we're
reading anything," Kira said.
    "But we can't very well continue on our way until
we're sure about what's there," Bashir said, coming
up behind Kira's other shoulder. "Not if there's the
slightest chance."
  "He's right," Dax said.
    "Agreed," Worf said, turning. The other officers
had known Sisko, Jake, and O'Brien much longer
than he had, but he understood how they felt. "We'll
stay until we've investigated the area. What's the
status on our runabout shadow?"
      "It's gone," Dax reported. "When we made orbit,
it disappeared. I'm not reading any trace of it now."
  "Are our transporters operative?"
    "We'll have to manually adjust the frequencies to
compensate for all the interference down there, but
that shouldn't be difficult," Dax replied. "We can
run a test to be sure."
    "Open hailing frequencies," Worf told Odo, going
back to the commander chair, settling into it. "Max-
imum gain. We shall see if anyone answers."

CHAPTER
      21

"THEY'RE US, THEY'RE our doubles, just like the
runabout and the other ships," O'Brien said, still
gaping at the two figures who stood before him, less
than five meters away. This close it was clear that
while these two visitors from the mist were similar
to the originals, they were not precisely correct. The
hair, the eyes, even the uniforms didn't look quite
right.
  "What are you reading now?"
    O'Brien groaned--caught napping again. He
jerked the tricorder up and blinked it into focus,
then tapped at the controls. "There's still too much
local interference, but I am picking up traces of
energy readings that are probably coming from our
1ook-alikes. Beyond that, these two phantoms don't
read at all."

 "I'm not surprised."
 "So what do we do with them?"
    O'Brien watched Sisko as he seemed to consider
the matter. "Hello there!" the captain sang out in a
pleasant voice. He got no response.
     O'Brien shrugged. "They might be good-looking,
but they're not very friendly, are they?" "No."
    "You know, they say if you travel far enough,
you'll eventually run across yourself," O'Brien said.
    "Well, I guess it's true." Sisko continued eyeing
the others closely. "But they aren't exactly like us,
are they? For one thing, we're talking and they're
not."
  "Maybe they're just... shy."
    "Maybe," Sisko said, taking a step to his right,
away from O'Brien, to get a look at their visitors
from another angle. As O'Brien watched, he was
struck by the mental image of flat two-dimensional
figures--of walking around to one side of these
twins and finding only a pair of thin, vertical lines.
He imagined that all of the images might have been
that way, the other Klingon freighter, the other
Rubicon. The idea seemed entirely possible. He
stepped to the left to get a better look.
    "They're three-dimensional," he mumbled, feel-
ing slightly disappointed.
    "Yes," Sisko said, as if he knew exactly what
O'Brien meant. "But if you look closely you can
almost see through them."
  The doubles turned only their heads as they

 watched the captain and the chief move about.
 O'Brien glanced back down at the tricorder, hoping
 for some unexpected breakthrough. His eyes went
 wide.
     "Wait, I've got something," he said, still scanning.
 He turned the tricorder slightly to the right and
 adjusted the parameters.  "What now?"
     "Nothing like these guys. I'm getting a bounce-
 back signal from about two thousand meters off. I
 can't get an exact fix."
"Scan for the Rio Grande at maximum range."
"Aye, sir," O'Brien said, complying. He found just
what he was looking for. "There's something big out
there, and from what I can tell it's about the same
mass as the Rio Grande. But I'm not getting any
power readings."
"Could be that damned interference again."
"Yes, sir, but an operational runabout should
produce strong enough readings to get through all
this."
    "The ship might have been damaged getting here,
just as we were. They may have crashed."
    O'Brien saw nothing of the emotion he thought
Sisko must be feeling behind those dark eyes. The
chief only nodded, his own thoughts giving voice to
what his captain wouldn't say. Then he thought to
try his communicator. He tapped at the badge on his
chest and called the runabout. No response.
    "We'll have to give our two 1ook-alikes another
try," Sisko said. He stepped closer to his double and

raised his voice. "Can you tell us why we're here?
Are there any more beings like us here? Is there
another ship like this one?" Nothing.
    "Just who are you people?" Sisko insisted, with
audible annoyance this time. Again, nothing.
    O'Brien had seen an expression similar to the look
on the faces of these visitors somewhere before, but
he hadn't been able to figure out where. Suddenly it
occurred to him.
    "Let me try something," he said, stepping for-
ward. He pointed to himself with both hands.
"O'Brien," he said. Then, "Sisko," he continued,
pointing to the captain. He'd taught his daughter,
Molly, the difference between Mommy and Daddy
in much the same way, when her young eyes had
looked at him the way these aliens did now. He
pointed to them next. "And you are?"
    He received no direct response, but the two look-
alikes seemed to get excited. They exchanged
glances, then pointed at each other. O'Brien re-
peated the entire exercise. This time the other
"O'Brien" opened his mouth and, in a voice that
sounded distant but otherwise much like the chief's
own, said, "O'Brien."
"They're willing to learn, anyway," the chief said.
"I think you're on to something," Sisko said,
letting a grin find his lips. He followed suit, stating
his rank and name while pointing to himself, then
putting the question to his double.
  "Captain... Sisko," the other responded.

  "It's like we're playing with babies," O'Brien said.
  "Perhaps."
     O'Brien brought his tricorder back up. He began
 tapping at it once more, readjusting the scanning
 parameters. "The electromagnetic impulses are go-
 ing wild all over this area, more so than before." He
 held out the instrument and showed the reading to
 Sisko.
      "You're saying there's a connection between those
 readings and our friends?"  "It's possible."
    Sisko glanced up again. Then he touched
O'Brien's arm. "Chief, look."
    O'Brien followed the captain's gaze, found their
look-alikes eagerly tapping at a newly materialized
tricorder while eyeing the real Sisko and O'Brien
repeatedly, as if making comparisons. Their expres-
sions were more intense than O'Brien had expected.
    "They don't look very happy," Sisko noted,
clearly puzzled.
  "Huh. I bet I don't either."
    Then Sisko seemed to come to a conclusion. "I
wonder," he said, rubbing his chin while his eyes
moved from left to right. He lowered his hand, took
a step forward, and grinned broadly. He kept grin-
ning like a paid fool, and after only a few seconds the
twins began to cheer up as well. Soon they were
grinning in kind.
    "Let's try something else," the captain said. He
put one finger on the side of his nose, and the
doubles carefully imitated the gesture. Next he put

one hand on top of his head, the other on his belly,
and began to rub. The twins did the same. "Curi-
ous," he said, tipping his head to one side.
    'TI1 say," O'Brien replied, giving up on the tri-
corder now. He put it away and looked back at the
Rubicon, shaking his head, feeling a pang of frustra-
tion. He let his gaze wander up toward the hazy sky.
None of this made sense. There was no question that
they had been dealing with an intelligence that could
control vast energies and reap great destruction, but
that certainly didn't seem to be who they were facing
right now. Which left some difficult unanswered
questions lying about.
    "Chief," Sisko said, breaking into O'Brien's
thoughts, "why don't you try it."
    It wasn't actually a question. "Whatever you say,
sir, but if you ask me, this is no time for games." He
thought for a moment, thought of Molly, then began
vigorously rubbing his hands together. Both phan-
toms did the same.
    "That's enough, Chief," Sisko said. A look of
sudden revelation filled his features.
 "What's going on?" O'Brien asked.
    "Games!" Sisko said, grinning once more. "That's
it!"
 "Sir?" O'Brien asked again.
    "Games. They're playing games. Learning the
rules."
    "They're willing to learn, but I'm not sure they're
playing games."
 Sisko faced their doubles again. He put one finger

in each of his ears, and his double did likewise. He
pulled the fingers back out and laughed out loud,
and his double laughed along with hirampoorly at
first, then better as Sisko swatted O'Brien on the
back, his way of urging the chief to join in. O'Brien
made a fair job of laughing, even though he still
wasn't sure any of this was particularly funny. Their
look-alikes were chuckling and slapping each other
like old Academy chums.
    They looked more like the real Sisko and O'Brien
now, too, the chief noted. More human. They were
better at this than Molly was when she was a baby,
but it did seem to be how they learned. 'Tin
beginning to accept your theory, Captain," he said.
    "Yes, that has to be it," Sisko nearly shouted.
"They are trying to learn by doing, by observing, by
playing and experimenting. Trial and error." He
held his open hands out to the twins, gave them a
nod, then waited. They stared at him for a long
moment, then slowly looked at each other.
    "Chiefi" He put his hands together. "Think of a
game. Any game."
    "Well, sir," O'Brien said, pondering the idea,
"Molly likes to play catch. We sit on the floor and
toss a big ball back and--"
    "Wonderful?' Sisko burst out. "That's perfect!"
He held both hands up like an old-fashioned traffic
cop. "Everybody wait right here!" Then he turned
toward the Rubicon and broke into a run.

$

CHAPTER
      22

AT A FULL sprint Sisko quickly covered the distance
back to the Rubicon. He rushed aboard and made his
way straight to the replicator, where he set about
adjusting the unit's program parameters. It took
several moments, longer than he would have liked,
but finally he gave it a try. What he got wasn't
exactly what he'd hoped for, but on the second
attempt he watched with delight as a genuine regula-
tion baseball--white with red stitches--appeared in
the replicator's open chamber.
    He picked the ball up and held it in his palm, felt
its familiar weight and mass, the slight elasticity of
its surface when he gave it a hard squeeze. "Just
about right," he muttered, smiling in satisfaction.
Then he spun around and headed back out through
the hatch.

     "Chief," Sisko said as he arrived among the others
 once more. "We have to get everyone spread out,
 four ways. I'd say about half a dozen meters apart
 for starters. If we separate ourselves first, the our
 doubles might do the same."
  "All right, Captain, whatever you say."
    "It'll be fine, Chief. You'll see." Sisko was still
smiling.
    O'Brien walked backward several paces, then
paused, and Sisko attempted to coax their doubles
into doing the same. After a brief period of blinking
puzzlement the look-alikes moved apart to complete
the square.
    "All right, Chief," Sisko said, "catch!" He tossed
the baseball, underhand. O'Brien caught it easily
enough.
  "Now throw it back."
    O'Brien did as ordered. Sisko caught the ball,
turned toward his double, and tossed it underhand
again. The other Sisko just stood there as the ball
bounced off his chest, then rolled on the ground.
Sisko did a bit more pointing and beckoning. Finally
his double bent down, picked the ball up, and threw
it back to Sisko. His toss went a bit wide, and the
captain had to lunge to his left to make the catch, but
essentially the experiment was proving itself a suc-
cess. He threw again, back to O'Brien.
    "Now throw it to your double, and we'll see if
they, you know, catch on."
    O'Brien rolled his eyes at the pun, but then he
turned and gently threw another underhand pitch.

His own double nearly managed to catch the ball,
dropping it only after it bounced out of his hands.
    "It takes a little practice," O'Brien told his twin,
who was looking at the two genuine Federation
officers with an expression usually reserved for ques-
tioning the origin of the universe.
    Sisko pointed, indicating that he wanted O'Brien's
double to throw to O'Brien, and the ball changed
hands. With the next pitch it came back to Sisko. He
couldn't have been more thrilled. But before he
could say any more, his comm badge chirped.
    "Defiant to Captain Sisko," Commander Worf's
voice said, clouded slightly by static but clear
enough to read. It caught Sisko off guard, but he
recovered instantly.
    "Yes, Commander!" he replied, tapping his badge
active. "Chief O'Brien and I were forced down onto
the surface of the planetoid. The area we're in seems
stable at the moment, and we're all right. But I
didn't think we could get a comm signal ten feet in
all this interference."
    "Our signal was blocked until just a moment ago,"
Worf reported.
    Sisko looked more closely at their doubles as the
ball went around again, one easy, arching underhand
throw, then another. This time the look-alikes both
caught the ball, if somewhat awkwardly. They really
were beginning to catch on, but that wasn't all. They
looked very much like him and the chief now, so
they seemed to be getting better at that, too.

  "Captain, we encountered two Klingon Vor-cha-
class attack cruisers, one commanded by
Captain--"
    "Drokas," Sisko said. "Yes, Mr. Worf, we've met,
but to be honest, I didn't think he would last this
long."
    "Only Drokas's ship registered as normal on our
sensors," Dax explained. "The other was a phan-
tom, like the second Klingon freighter we saw at the
station."
  "Did you sustain any damage?"
    "No," Worf said. "The cruisers fought each other.
Ultimately Drokas retreated, but the second ship
went after him."
  "That makes sense," Sisko said.
  "It does?" Dax asked.
  "Absolutely."
    Sisko's twin made a great catch using only one
hand, and the captain let out a cheer.
    "Captain," Worf said, sounding puzzled, "may I
ask what are you doing?"
  "We're having a game of catch, Commander."
  "Catch?" Worf repeated.
    Sisko allowed himself a chuckle. "Yes. I'll be glad
to show you what it ismthat is, as soon as we're
done here. I've got some other students at the
moment. And we still have a search to conduct."
    "Yes, sir. We have already begun a full scan of
your area."
 As the ball flew again, Sisko looked at O'Brien.

"You know, Chief, these guys are pretty good at
this."
    "They're pretty good at playing guns, too,"
O'Brien reminded him. "Or their friends are." Sisko
nodded. He caught the ball again, then swung low,
past his knee, sending it sailing back to O'Brien once
more.
    "Mr. Worf," Sisko said into the comm badge,
"whatever you do, don't fire at or attack anything--
runabouts, Klingon cruisers, duplicate Defiants--
nothing. Especially if it doesn't read one hundred
percent real on your sensors. The entities controlling
the phantoms will think you're trying to teach them
something or that you're playing a game with them,
and they'll just join in. That's what happened to the
Klingon freighter, to Drokas, and possibly to Jake
and EUiena. I believe this planetoid is some kind
of... of nursery... full of children, hundreds of
them. Maybe thousands."
    Sisko glanced at O'Brien and found a worried look
on his face.
  "What is it, Chief?."
    "I was just thinking that I'd hate to meet their
parents."
    Sisko watched his twin catch the ball once more,
then toss it to him--a nice, steady throw. Sisko
caught it easily. "They learn by emulation," he went
on. "They're very curious and... playful. I'm try-
ing to get through to them. I'm hoping they can give
us some information about the Rio Grande. It's got

to be here somewhere. There's even a good chance
that Jake and Elliena are unharmed, just as we are,
provided they didn't do anything foolish."
    "Since when do teenagers do anything foolish?"
O'Brien said grimly.
    "Captain, if what you say is true, it could account
for some of the problems other races in neighboring
sectors have been having lately," Major Kira inter-
jected. "The Aulep and Rylep, for example, and the
Beshiel."
    "The three of them wouldn't stop arguing," Dax
said.
    "You wouldn't believe the trouble we had getting
away from the station," Kira said. "And I haven't
even told you about the Klingons and the Ferengi."
"Who are the Beshiel?" Sisko asked.
    "I'll explain later," Kira said. "But the Beshiel,
the Rylep, and the Aulep have been encountering
look-alike ships and blaming each other, of course.
They'll be interested to learn they were wrong, and
I'll enjoy telling them."
    "Oh?" Sisko said, intrigued. He caught the ball,
turned, gently threw it.
    "Captain," Dax broke in, "I'm reading two new
life signs not far from your position. It might be Jake
and Elliena, but I can't get a positive identification."
    O'Brien was already opening his tricorder and
beginning to scan. "That agrees with my readings,"
he said.
 "Dax, the interference seems to oscillate," Sisko

said. "Or it's being controlled. I want you to do
another scan. See if you can find a window big
enough to get a positive lock so that we can use the
transporter."
    "If nothing changes I should be able to," Dax
replied. "But it might take some time."
    "Lieutenant, why don't we try using my tricorder
along with the ship's sensors to triangulate?"
O'Brien suggested.
  "That should work," Dax said.
    "Good," Sisko said, pleased that his nearly auto-
matic faith in his people had once more proved well
founded. "So what are you waiting for?"
    Sisko held the ball while O'Brien tapped at his
tricorder and moved it from left to right front of
him. "Transmitting data now," the chief said.  "I think we've got them," Dax said.
    "Can you get a good enough lock to attempt
transport?" Sisko asked.
  "I believe so," Dax replied.
    "Then try to beam them directly here," Sisko said.
"As soon as you're ready."
     "I've got them, Benjamin," Dax said. "They
 should be showing up right about... now."
    Jake and Elllena suddenly materialized directly
between Sisko and O'Brien. The only problem lay in
the direction they were facing.
     "Dad! Chiefl" Jake yelled, as he came to realize
 what had happened. He started forward--toward
 the look-alikes.

     "No, Jake, wait!" Sisko called after him. "I'm
 here, behind you. Those two aren't real."
     Jake spun around wide-eyed, as did Elliena. Then
 they both started toward the real Sisko, though at a
 slightly slower pace. Sisko put his arms out, and Jake
 moved solidly into his father's embrace. Then he
 freed up an arm and pulled Elliena into the huddle.
 The hug lasted for a very long moment.
     "Sisko to Defiant. We have Jake and Elliena with
 us, and they appear to be in good shape. Nice work."
     "Yes, sir," Worf said. "Do you wish us to assist
 with repairs to the Rubicon, or should we beam you
 aboard?"
    "For the moment, neither," Sisko replied. "We
have a little unfinished business here. Stand by."
    "I know what you mean about the doubles," Jake
said excitedly. "In fact, we've been gaining a lot of
experience with them. You wouldn't believe..."
    He fell silent as Elliena put her hand on his
shoulder and pointed toward the mist behind them.
Sisko turned to find yet another Jake and Elliena
slowly appearing there, walking toward them into
existence. They looked almost precisely like the
originals.
  "So I see," Sisko said.
"Dad, they're okay. In fact, they're fascinating!"
"They are," Elliena verified. "We've been talking
to them, sort of. It's amazing how easily they can
learn to communicate."
    "We've been learning all sorts of things about
them, and they've been learning from us."

    "You've been communicating with them? How?"
Sisko asked.
 Elliena looked at Jake.
    "Well," Jake said, "we've been using sign lan-
guage, but they're speaking a few words, too. And we
think they have some empathic ability. I'm sure they
could learn just about any language. I wish I had
their ability."
    "We still don't know who or what they are," Sisko
said.
  "Ahh, that's not exactly true," Elliena said.
  "What do you mean?" Sisko asked.
    "Well, we've got a pretty good idea who they are,"
Jake said.
    Chief O'Brien wandered closer, followed by his
double and Sisko's. The captain realized the eight of
them were beginning to form quite a crowd. "Ex-
plain," he said.
     "We're still guessing at a lot of this," Jake said.
 "And I'm not sure we've got the parts we've got
 quite right, but--" He stopped himself, apparently
 aware that he was babbling. Sisko waited patiently.
 Jake started over. "Okay, this planetoid seems to be
 an extragalactic spaceship of some kind. Probably
 from M-31 in the Andromeda galaxy, as far as I've
 been able to calculate from its path and direction.
 But this ship isn't like anything we've seen before."
     "You can say that again," O'Brien said. "And
 neither are they," he added, indicating their atten-
 tive doubles.

     "This planetoid is a generational colony ship,"
 Elliena said. "These beings are part of a very ad-
 vanced, very long-lived race that was sent out across
 the void ages ago."
     "We've had colony ships, and so have other
 races," O'Brien said.
    "I know, but when this planetoid was launched,
its passengers were still embryos," Jake said. "Every
one of them. I don't think there were ever any adults
aboard."
    "Now those embryos are growing, developing into
children," Elliena said. "Brilliant children, who are
quite busy at present discovering themselves and
this new galaxy."
    "A little like teenagers, I guess," Sisko said with a
smile.
    "Well, sort of," Jake said. "We think they're
nearly mature enough to begin looking for a suitable
site for their colony, although to them, 'nearly'
might mean a human century or two."
    "The important thing is, they aren't here to hurt
anyone. We just have to try to understand them and
help them understand us," EUiena said.
    "Then neither of you perceives these beings as a
threat?" Sisko asked. Jake and Elliena both shook
their heads.
    "Watch this," Jake said. He winked at his father
and the chief, then turned to Elliena, gently put his
arms around her, and kissed her. They held the kiss
for several seconds, but even before they parted,

their doubles had begun to do the same thing. Sisko
shook his head and frowned, but then he let a grin
slip.
 "I'll stick with playing catch," O'Brien said.
    "Me too, Chief," Sisko said. Then he tapped at his
comm badge once more. "Sisko to Deftant."
"Worf here, Captain. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Commander. Quite all right, in fact."
"Are you ready to begin repairs to the Rubicon?"
"Of course. We'll start that task when you beam
down," Sisko said. "Right now I've got to get Jake
and Elliena organized." He turned to the two teenag-
ers and showed them each a wry grin. "We have a
new mission here, and I'm assigning them to it,
along with some of the rest of us, of course. They
seem to be the experts. We have a lot of orientation
work to do."
  "Acknowledged," Worf said.
  "Interesting," Sisko heard Dax say.
    "We're staying here?" O'Brien asked, apparently
somewhat chagrined. "For how long?"
    "I think we can all stick around for a little while,
Chief. This takes priority."
    "Yes, sir," O'Brien said. "But what exactly are we
going to do?"
    "We have a chance to make some very important
friends here. A chance to make sure the first extra-
galactic settlers to this galaxy get off on the right foot.
Not to mention making life easier for some of the
local inhabitants along their path. And besides,

 you're never too old, or too young, to learn some-
 thing new. I'm sure we can all learn a lot from one
 another."
    O'Brien nodded. "I've seen what they can do with
a little energy. And with the Dominion barking at
our heels, friends like these could really come in
handy."
  "My thoughts exactly," Sisko said.
    "Stand by to receive away team," Worf informed
them.
    "We're on our way," Kira said. "Is there anything
you need?"
    "No. Major, wait!" Sisko said, considering Jake
and Elliena once more. "I do have an extra little job
for you before you transport."
  "Go ahead," Kira answered.
      Sisko smiled to himself. "I want you to see if the
Defiant's replicators can make... a bat."  "A bat, sir?"
    "I believe a bat is a small, winged earth rodent,"
Worf said.
  "No," Sisko said. "A baseball bat."
    "Aye, sir," Kira replied. "I'll see what I can do.
Defiant out."
    Sisko looked to O'Brien. The chief winked at him,
then turned and stepped back several paces. When
he was in position, he turned around again, tossed
the ball up in the air once, and caught it. Then he set
his jaw a little to one side, bent slightly forward, and
trained his eye on his double, who was already

backing up, returning to his corner of their imagi-
nary diamond.
 "Captain," he said.
 "Yes, Chief?."
  "I think we're gonna need gloves, too."
  Sisko broke into a chuckle.
  O'Brien pulled back and let one fly, overhand.