0

CHAPTER
        1

"I WILL NOW inspect your aft cargo bay," Worf in-
formed her.
    The Sattar woman squinted up at him. "I told you
all of the cargo bays were searched last night by
station security. In fact, they went over the entire ship
with a portable particle sweeper! I don't know what
else you expect to find poking around like this with a
tricorder."
    "I am aware the Reaper has been cleared, Senior
Mate Cali." Worf knew that if he did not stop her, the
Sattar would keep complaining and he would never
get done. She had made it clear that the transport was
on a tight turnaround, but that was none of his
concern. "As Strategic Operations Officer, it is within

my jurisdiction to inspect any vessel allied with the
Klingon Empire."
    "How nice for you." She wrinkled her fuzzy nose at
him. "But you're wasting your time. We haven't
contracted with any Klingons for months... and we
aren't likely to if I can help it," she added bitterly.
    Since the Sattar were not known for their honesty,
Worf discounted her statement. The Sattar Collective
had been reluctant members of the empire since their
world had been conquered over one hundred years
ago, yet when they were not operating on the narrow
border between Federation trade laws and the Ferengi
Alliance, many Sattar cooperated with Klingons to
their own advantage.
    Worf had watched the Reaper since her arrival the
night before, timing his inspection just prior to their
departure in order to catch them off guard. Cali, the
senior mate assigned to accompany him, was typical
of the Sattar he had encountered in the past. She was
a small humanoid, covered with tawny fur that had
been smoothed into decorative swirls on her face and
chest. But her impetuous temper was reflected in the
disheveled curls hanging over her forehead and the
tangled mass of reddish-brown mane running down
the back of her head and neck.
  "The aft cargo bay," Worf prompted.
    Call snorted, but she turned on her heel. "It's right
here, as if you didn't know."
    As they entered the cargo bay, Worf's hand lingered
on the curved support beam. It felt odd to be inside a
Klingon vessel again, so right, and yet not--

2

     "This isn't a bird of prey," Cali spoke up behind
 him, surprising him out of his reverie. Her arms were
 crossed. "It isn't even a cruiser. It's an old transport
 ship, in case you haven't noticed. I suppose we should
 be flattered we're worth this much effort."
    Worf ignored her caustic remarks, proceeding with
his investigation. The recent termination of the peace
treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Em-
pire made it imperative that he pursue every scrap of
information. Odo's team had picked up traces of
solotine in their particle sweep. It was a catalyst often
used in Klingon explosive devices such as bombs and
mines. But the Reaper's cargo bay was empty except
for stacked containers and anti-gray pallets.
    "Open this panel." He gestured at random to one of
the vents in the bulkhead. If this vessel had trans-
ported solotine, there would be a breakdown residue
of nitrogen-dexitrin left in the atmospheric intake
vents.
    Cali shrugged and made an elaborate show of
undoing the panel. Worf waited until she stepped
aside, knowing how touchy Sattar were about physical
contact. While Cali had simply bent over to reach the
panel, Worf was forced to kneel down, leaning in to
bring his tricorder close to the junction node of the
vent. There were no immediate indicators of solotine
contamination--
    "Arrgh!" he exclaimed as a burst of white-hot
steam erupted in his face.
Protecting his eyes, he jumped back, unbalanced by

his awkward position. He bumped into Call and they
both went down.
    Worf's shoulder hit the deck, and he could feel Call
entangled in his legs. She was fighting to get away as
he glared back at the plasma leak. The lethal stuff was
merrily hissing into the air. Only his quick reflexes
had kept him from getting a nasty plasma burn in his
eyes. As it was, he had to restrain himself from rub-
bing his eyes, blinking to clear his vision.
    Instinctively he edged toward the nearest bulkhead,
protecting his back in case of an attack. But Call was
swearing in Klingon as she limped toward the door to
hit the comm. "Plasma leak in the aft cargo bay," she
drawled. "Get someone down here, will you?"
    Worf did not appreciate the situation, or the smile
on the Sattar's face when she turned around. He
considered the possibility that she had somehow
planned the accident. Aiming his tricorder at the
plasma leak, he detected several other weak spots on
the conduit, but no obvious signs of tampering.
    Another Sattar appeared, this one with dun-colored
fur shaved to a nub except for his stiff ridge of mane.
The technician crawled under the leak to examine the
conduit. "Shouldn't have opened the panel," he mut-
tered. "These are delicate systems we've got here."
    Cali ignored the technician's complaint. "Have you
seen enough?" she asked Wore "Or would you like to
damage a few more conduits?"
    Worf checked his tricorder readings. Normally he
would prefer a few more samples, but he had ade-

 quate data for further analysis with the station's
 computer.
     He closed the tricorder. "I... appreciate your co-
 operation," he muttered grudgingly.
    "You mean the search is over? You found nothing
to seize?" she countered in mock amazement. "Are
you sure you did a thorough job?"
    Ignoring her, Worf left the cargo bay and returned
to the docking port. Though the Sattar crew had
altered the interior of the transport, the Klingon
infrastructure was intact. He knew exactly which way
to turn to get back to the airlock, even though he
could barely see through his burning eyes. He had to
blink constantly to keep them from watering.
    Cali jogged along behind him. "We'll have to do a
rush check in order to make our rotation slot through
the wormhole."
    Woff refused to slow down or glance back at the
Sattar. "You may inform Captain Ari that the Reaper
remains cleared for departure."
    "Ohhh... aren't we in a generous mood today!"
When Worf did not respond, she caught up, running
right on his heels. "Don't think I'm going to be
grateful! You Klingons are all alike. If you can't keep
it, you kill it~ And you don't care who you destroy as
long as you can call yourselves warriors." Her voice
rose. "Hey, I'm talking to you, Klingon!"
    Worf stopped and looked down at this feisty little
Sattar, ready to make war with the entire Klingon
Empire right here, right now. He wondered if she was
any good with a bat'leth.

    The spark of admiration in his gaze seemed to
infuriate her even more. "You're dying to know
what's going on, aren't you?" she taunted. "I don't
know who you're gathering information for, 'the
Klingons or the Federation--" She waved off his dark
look. "Sure, you wear a Starfleet uniform. But you
don't have to prove anything to me. I'm just telling
you. You know nothing about this part of space."
    "Your assessment would be informative," he said
raising his tricorder. "Have you encountered recent
Klingon activity in the nearby sectors?"
    "Oh, sure! We'll have a nice long chat, right after
our weekly game of ba'zon." She was smiling in that
smug way again. "You've been on this station how
long? Three weeks, maybe four?"
    Her accuracy was unnerving. He could also tell he
would get nothing more from Senior Mate Cali, and
he was therefore unwilling to enter into a personal
argument with her.
    He remained silent until they reached the airlock
and then he adhered strictly to protocol. "Does your
captain plan to record your logs before departure?"
    Cali laughed right in his face. Wisps of hair shook
in a faint aureole around her head. "Blimenny. You do
try to control everything, don't you?" "It is for your own protection--"
    "Spare me the hypocrisy." Cali deliberately turned
away. "All Klingons are alike."
    Before Worf could say anything, his comm badge
signaled and Dax's voice asked, "Commander Worf?"
 "Worf here," he immediately replied.

  "Please report to upper pylon three."
    That meant a large vessel was docking. "On my
way," Worf confirmed.
    Cali was still sneering as she let him through the
airlock. "Explain all you want, but it's still the same
old Klingon game. Glory! You'd think a bunch of
idiots who are that violent and self-serving would
have killed themselves off a long time ago."
    As he left, Worf felt compelled to comment, "You
must be an expert at self-defense. I can think of no
other reason for your continued survival in the Kling-
on Empire."
    Her eyes flashed. "I guess there's no such thing as
justice in this universe, is there?"
    The airlock slammed behind him, as Worf realized
that was the very question he had been considering
since he had transferred to the station. He knew that
if he had anything to do with it, there would be justice
served in this part of the universe. And he would do
everything in his power to preserve the Federation's
tentative balance with the Klingon Empire, and to
prevent their conflict from escalating into war.
    Worf ignored the pain that throbbed in his eyes,
proceeding directly to the lower pylon. When he
reached the viewport at the base of the pylon, there
was no ship in dock. With practiced self-control, he
resisted speculating on the incoming vessel.
    Nodding to the Bajoran technician at the docking
control station, Worf activated the viewer to Ops.
"Commander Worf at lower pylon docking control."
 Dax's face appeared, filling the small round screen.

"Worf, we've finally heard from the scoutship Ceres.
Captain Ils reports they are being towed in by the
Bajoran tug, Hum 'bernt."
  "The Ceres was damaged?"
    "They suffered a hit-and-run attack while they were
at full stop, shields down. They lost warp drive,
navigation, sensors, and communications..." Dax
looked grim. "Five crew members were killed, and the
rest are ill with radiation poisoning from the nearby
plasma storm. They were on thrusters when the
Hum'bernt found them."
    "Who attacked them?" Worf growled, already cer-
tain of the answer.
    But Dax shook her head. "Their identity is uncon-
firmed. The Ceres was able to get only minimal
readings, enough to know it was a single ship."
    Worf glanced at the technician, who uneasily edged
away. Another example of the lax security on this
station. Now it was too late to try to classify this
information. "When did it happen?"  "Yesterday, about this time."
    He clenched his jaw. The attackers could be any-
where by now. "And they have no information on the
vessel?"
    "The scout was on the edge of the plasma storm,
Worf, investigating some unusual readings. The radia-
tion was interfering with their sensors when they were
attacked." She glanced over her shoulder, toward
Captain Sisko's office. "You're to get a report from
Captain Ils. Most of the crew will be beamed directly

to the infirmary for radiation treatment once the
Ceres is within range."
    Worf nodded curtly. "Have two security teams
report to me here."
    "Aye, Commander." As Worf reached out to termi-
nate the transmission, Dax added, "Better make sure
someone good is on the docking tractors. Remember
the Andorian freighter that tug brought in last week?"
    "Thank you, Commander," he said dryly. Now the
Bajoran technician was looking worried. Maybe
Dax's warning was just another example of her bi-
zarre humor, but Worf could never be sure with the
Trill.
    Accessing the main viewer, Worf was able to watch
the tug tow in the comparatively huge Starfleet scout-
ship. Dax had probably offered to assist with the
station's tractor beams once they were within range,
but Worf had seen for himself that nothing was that
easy on the station. He had overheard far too much
discussion lately among Kira, the Bajoran govern-
ment, and the local version of the scavengers' union,
arguing incessantly over towing regulations and
whether tugs were required to bring a vessel into dock
in order to receive payment. Worf thought it was
nonsense, like many of the other convoluted proce-
dures in this sector that seemed specifically designed
to frustrate real, decisive action.
    He did not believe he would ever become accus-
tomed to this sort of delay, yet he didn't move a
muscle in spite of his most fervent wish to get hold of
the Ceres. A security team arrived and waited at one

side with their portable equipment, and he ordered
another team to go below to prepare one-man pods
for an external examination of the scoutship. There
were always clues left behind by weapons, clues that
could be used to determine the exact course of a battle
as well as the identity of the attacking vessel.
    His personal contacts had reported considerable
Klingon activity in the area, with vessels en route
between the conquered Cardassian planets and the
Klingon Empire. It was likely the Ceres had been
attacked by Klingons. Or perhaps by a Sattar trans-
port smuggling supplies to the Klingon outposts in
Cardassian territory.
    Yet Worf did not discount the possibility of a
Maquis ambush. Tactically it made sense for them to
take advantage of the situation to make a preemptire
strike against Starfleet. Or it could have been a
Jem'Hadar attack. Many of the officers on the station
would agree with that hypothesis; there had been
growing rumors of Jem'Hadar infiltration using cloak-
ing devices captured during the failed Romulan-
Cardassian invasion of the Dominion home world.
But privately Worf considered that an unlikely possi-
bility at this juncture.
    Magnifying the image of the Ceres, Worf focused
first on the imploded warp nacelle, then the punc-
tured bulkheads in the body of the ship, particularly
around the dish-shaped navigational array. The tar-
geting had been precise, taking out the major weapons
and sensor systems in two, perhaps three, sweeps.
With that much damage and a crew complement of

almost one hundred fifty, they were lucky there were
only five deaths.
    Worf switched to the pylon sensors to watch the
docking. The Hum'bernt seemed to strain as it swung
the Ceres around, then slowly backed her in. There
were a few breathless moments as the scoutship
neared the station when it seemed to speed up as the
gap closed. Worf instinctively held his breath, though
he knew it was an optical illusion from the adjust-
ment of his eyes to the real space-time view.
    The Bajoran technician suddenly became iron cool,
smoothly catching the Ceres with the tractors and
slowing her approach. The round port eased up to the
station, an alignment of two microscopic points. They
met at precisely the moment the Ceres stopped. The
last few centimeters closed with a whisperlike shud-
der of contact through the pylon.
 "Good work," Worf told the technician.
    "Thank you, sir." She lifted her chin, as if deter-
mined to never again show trepidation about a dock-
ing maneuver.
    There was a somber urgency to the preparations for
opening the airlock, while communications were re-
layed regarding the transport of the most seriously
injured to the infirmary. Captain Iis was waiting on
the other side of the port, but she remained on board
the Ceres as a long line of crew members with minor
injuries filed onto the station. Medical technicians
arrived to assist.
    Despite the various degrees of shock that showed
on the faces of the crew Worf's gaze kept returning to

ll

Captain Ils. Her face was creased with lines of stress,
but her pride shone through the sweat and smudges
earned during their effort to return to safety. She
offered a few words here and there, occasionally
clasping an arm or giving a nod of reassurance. Worf
had heard rumors about the crews under Captain Iis,
of the bond they felt for one another. It couldn't
match what he had experienced on the Enterprise...
yet he admired their determination to be strong, to
prove they weren't beaten, to be a credit to their
captain.
    Worf entered the docking port and came to atten-
tion in front of Captain Iis. "Commander Worf,
requesting permission to board the Ceres."
    "Permission granted, Commander." Iis seemed to
appreciate his adherence to protocol. "This is the last
of the injured. I have a skeleton crew in place locking
down the systems."
    "The security team can assist as they begin the
investigation," Worf offered. At the captain's tired
nod, he called security inside and deployed them to
their stations.
    Distracted by the sight of her departing crew mem-
bers, Iis told Worf, "I've sent one of my ensigns to
fetch the data on the plasma storm. You'll need to plot
the trajectory to make sure it's not coming this way."
    "I am concerned about the attack on the Ceres,"
Worf informed her, wondering at her choice of priori-
ties at this moment.
    "I don't have much to add to my initial report. We
were at full stop, scanning the plasma storm...

defenseless. There was no provocation, no reason for
it..." The captain seemed to shake herself, returning
to the facts. "Perhaps the other ship was also skirting
the plasma storm and couldn't read us through the
emission waves. Then when they stumbled on us, they
fired."
"It will be necessary to analyze your sensor logs."
"Of course, though I warn you, we didn't get
enough data to be able to make a positive identifica-
tion." Iis hesitated, then added, "But one of my
lieutenants did catch a glimpse of the ship through a
porthole, and she said it looked Klingon." "A bird of prey?" Worf demanded.
    "No, something different, a design she wasn't fa-
miliar with. By the way, this is all hearsay. Another
one of my officers informed me of her sighting."
    Wolf seized on the clue. "I must speak with the
lieutenant immediately."
    Captain Iis grimaced. "That's impossible. She suf-
fered a blow to the head. The doctor says she's in a
coma and he's been unable to help her regain con-
sciousness."
    Worf's disappointment was sharp, reminding him
that a good investigator did not get personally in-
volved in a case. It could distort his interpretation of
the evidence. Yet he had to admit satisfaction at even
the most tentative confirmation that Klingons were
involved. It was just as he suspected.
    "I noticed that there's a Klingon vessel docked
here," Captain Ils said quietly. "When did it get in?"
  "The Reaper is a transport belonging to the Sattar

12                                          13

Collective." He didn't have to check his tricorder for
the docking information. "They arrived yesterday at
fourteen hundred hours."
"Do they have the legs to get here that fast?"
More to the point, Worf was not certain the
Reaper's weapons systems were capable of inflicting
this much damage. But he intended to find out. "I
have not yet completed my investigation. I will in-
form you as soon as I have analyzed the information."
    An ensign rushed up to Captain Iis, offering her a
padd. "Good," Iis said in relief, checking the data.
"Commander, you had better get this to your science
officer right away. I hope that storm isn't headed in
this direction. The radiation caused almost as much
damage to my crew as the attack did."
    Worf took the padd, bracing the captain for a
moment as she lost her balance. "You should go to the
infirmary," he told her. The ensign chimed in, con-
cerned but too respectful to do more than offer to
support her captain.
    Iis demurred, glancing up in concern at the ceiling
of her bridge.
    "There is nothing more for you to do," Worf said
bluntly. Yet he felt a great deal of sympathy for
Captain Iis, surveying the remnants of her command.
"Repair crews are currently assessing the damage,
and you will receive a report shortly on the condition
of your ship."
    Captain Iis nodded agreement, but she remained at
her post until the last of her crew members had
departed. Then she handed over command to a senior

officer and prepared to follow the others through the
airlock.
    "Wait, Captain," Worf said. He signaled Ops for
the transporter to take Iis to the infirmary. She could
hardly stand up straight and her lips trembled from
the effort. After everything else she had been through,
it was not necessary for her to drag hemelf through the
mile-long corddom to the infirmary in the core.
    But as the captain dematerialized, Worf was not
thinking of the buckled hull of the Ceres. Instead he
saw the saucer section of the Enterprise buried in the
ground, with that long scar stretching into the dis-
tance behind it. And the cracked glass of the bridge
dome forming a jagged frame for the blue sky .... He
hoped the Ceres could be repaired. He swore to
himself that if the Sattar were responsible, he would
discover the truth and make them pay for it. Perhaps
this was the reason Senior Mate Cali was in such a
hurry to leave DS9.
    "Transporter, one to beam to Ops." Captain Iis had
stressed urgency about the storm data, and he also
wanted to watch the Reaper to see if the Sattar
decided to depart now that the Ceres had been
brought in. Their actions during the next hour could
be very enlightening.
    As Worf materialized in Ops, he felt the floor shake
beneath his feet. "What was that?" he demanded,
looking from Dax to O'Brien.
    "I'm not sure," the chief admitted, examining his
panel.
Visions of a Klingon offensive flashed through

15

Worf's mind, and he had time to regret that both
Captain Sisko and Major Kira were off duty.
    Dax offered, "I think it's the effects of that plasma
storm. I've been tracking the emission waves. They're
very strong. It must be one big mother of a storm."
    "I'll increase power to the stabilizers," O'Brien
agreed, "and I'll see what I can do about adjusting the
shields. We don't want any radiation leakage."
    "Captain Iis claims that the storm is dangerous."
Worf handed Dax the padd with the Ceres sensor
information before going to the tactical station. He
quickly confirmed that there were no signs of unusual
vessel activity on long-range sensors.
    Then he accessed star charts of the neighboring
sector, where the Ceres had been scanning the storm.
Perhaps the attacker had been protecting the secrecy
of a Klingon post just outside Bajoran space. Tacti-
cally it would be the ideal spot for a supply base. The
flight plan of the Reaper indicated they had come
from the opposite direction, however they could eas-
ily have falsified that information. He downloaded his
trioorder data into the computer for a full analysis of
the Reaper's engines, weapons, and recent cargo.
    "Interesting," Dax murmured, absorbed in the
readings on the storm from the Ceres. "I'm going to
send out a long-range probe."
    Worf accessed docking control and canceled the
Sattar's clearance, sealing the docking clamps with a
security order. What with the interference of the
emission waves, he could not risk the Reaper's escap-
ing before he had time to complete his analysis.

    He noted the order in his log, then began to gather
the preliminary reports from his security teams work-
ing on the Ceres. It was comforting to watch the data
flow into his console. Soon he would know.
  "Ready, Chief?." Dax asked.
    "Fire away," O'Brien cheerfully confirmed, deep in
his own calculations on the shield's EM dispersal and
band-width rates.
    Silence fell over them as each worked on his or her
own problem. It reminded Worf of the best days on
the Enterprise.
    "Wow!" Dax softly exclaimed, reacting to the first
readings as they came in. "I've never seen anything
like this outside a particle accelerator. Unusually
dense blackbody... hmmm... and high levels of
complex oscillations." She continued to murmur her
surprise, with Worf idly listening, until a new note
crept in.
    "Wait, what's this?" she muttered. "Escalating
bursts. The data's being scrambled."
 "Need more power?" O'Brien asked.
    "Maybe. I'm going to tie the probe into long-range
sensors for redundancy." Dax frowned over her panel
as she quickly made the link. Worf found her tech-
nique interesting--not Starfleet standard, but then
almost nothing on this station was Starfleet standard.
    "I'm getting feedback," Dax told them. "Better
isolate your systems."
    Worf had already seen the spikes, and took the
tactical station off line from the main sensor array.
O'Brien was right behind him.

17

    "Just for a moment," Dax assured them. "Until I
get this fluctuation under control--"
    A surge ran through the power relays, ringing
alarms in the secondary stations. Dax tried to com-
pensate, hitting the touch pads with frantic fingers.
  "Cut power!" she called out.
    O'Brien was wide eyed as he tried to comply. A
spark shot up from the main circuit indicator on the
science station. Dax jerked back, then tried to shut
everything down as a burst of smoke rose from the
console, followed by a shower of white-hot sparks.
    Worf was already running toward Dax, and he
grabbed her arms to pull her away. "Move!" he
ordered.
    A stasis beam shot down from the overhead array,
attempting to contain the smoke. O'Brien leaped over
the railing to retrieve a portable stasis unit, betraying
his lack of confidence in the onboard systems.
    "Apparently the storm is stronger than I thought,"
Dax admitted, coughing and warily watching her
burning console. Worf made sure she was uninjured
before helping her stand up.
    "Worfto Captain Sisko," he announced, straighten-
ing his uniform.
    A brief pause reminded him that Sisko hadn't had a
day off in over a week. Yet the captain's voice be-
trayed no irritation. "Sisko here."
    Worf eyed O'Brien's attempts to extinguish the fire.
"Sir, you are needed in Ops. We have a slight...
problem."

0

CHAPTER
        2

THE CATWALK SHUDDERED as Keiko reached the door to
the holosuite. She couldn't help bumping into a young
Bajoran woman who had paused to check the num-
bers.
    Keiko caught her by the arm to steady them both.
"That was a strong one."
    The Bajoran's eyes were round, but she was smiling.
"I've never felt the station shake like this before."
    Keiko let go of her. "I have. It's probably nothing
serious."
    The young woman dug into what Keiko had at first
taken to be a bundle of costurning for a holoprogram.
Instead, a baby peeked up through the folds, smiling
up in a tiny echo of her mother's pert ridged nose and
rosebud mouth.

  "What a precious baby!" Keiko exclaimed.
    "Yes, she is," the mother artlessly agreed. "I'm
Betenn Catfin."
    Keiko responded to her smile. "Hi, Catrin. I'm
Keiko O'Brien."
    Catrin joggled her baby. "I don't think I've met you
before. Are you related to Miles O'Brien, chief of
operations?"
    Keiko nodded. "We're married." She reached out
to tickle the baby's chin. "We have a daughter of our
own. Molly is six now."
    "Oh, I heard about that," Catrin said. "I thought
you were both living on Bajor."
    "The winter storms are severe this year in the
Bernice Province," Keiko explained, resisting a tug of
frustration at the thought. "We had to close down the
science survey for a week or so." And she had just
been getting somewhere with those hybrid Bernitii-
Serran grains...
    "I had a cousin who moved to Bernice." Catrin
adjusted the baby. "I'm from Shakaar's province, but
my mate got a posting to the station a few months ago
and we couldn't pass up the opportunity. I'll never
forget the trip here! I was out to here," she said,
holding out one hand as far as she could in front of
her stomach.
    "Sounds familiar," Keiko replied. "It must be
tough for you living on the station with an infant."
    Catrin smoothed her hand over the little head. "Oh,
I don't know... babies aren't easy no matter where
you are. I sometimes think about the labor camp

where I grew up and this seems like heaven. I can even
work half-day shifts at Transient Registration so I get
to see all the different people who come to the
station."
    Keiko didn't want to admit that she still found the
constant stream of transients unnerving. She liked
meeting new people as much as anyone, but the never-
ending influx of strangers was sometimes overwhelm-
ing. And though the view of the wormhole was
amazing, Keiko never developed a taste for the Car-
dassian structure of the station. She couldn't help it,
the elongated curves and shadowy niches felt creepy
to her. She was more at home with the sleek lines of
the Star fleet temporary quarters that traveled with the
survey team on Bajor.
    But Catrin didn't notice Keiko's lack of enthusi-
asm. "Usually Brucen is home by now, but the
docking crew is taking care of that Starfleet ship that
just came in. I'm lucky the holosuite is available or
Krystal would be coming with me to work."
    "It will be available," Keiko told her, "as soon as I
get my daughter out of there." She gave Catrin a
frustrated look. "I hate leaving her here alone, even
though I know it's safe. But I had to. Everyone
responded when they called for volunteers to help
with those injured crewmembers."
    "It's awful, isn't it?" Catrin agreed. "Everyone's
talking about it."
    Keiko keyed her access code in the locking device
on the door. She never took chances in this place. She
had asked Miles to make one of his custom security

seals so she could lock Molly inside the holosuite if
she ever had to leave her alone.
"Which program is she doing?" Catfin asked.
"Level one riding lessons," Keiko said, as the door
opened. "That's all she's talked about since she tried
it on our last visit. Ponies!"
    At the far end of the room, Molly was perched on a
fat white pony. It was plodding in a circle around the
paddock, stoically ignoring her kicking heels and the
jostling of the reins. A holographic instructor was
patiently indicating the finer points of horsemanship
on the small image of an English rider floating incon-
gruously above the pony's nose. Beyond the white-
washed fence were the images of other horses and
riders going through their paces.
    Molly pulled her pony to a halt, laughing as she
almost lost her balance. "Whoa!" she ordered in a
deep voice. Keiko wondered where she had picked up
that tone of command.
    "Hello, Molly," Catfin said as she removed Krystal
from her bundles. "Your daughter is so sweet," she
whispered to Keiko.
    Keiko wanted to tell her that appearances could be
deceiving, but she bit her tongue. "How was your ride
today, Molly?"
    "We jumped four fences and two big rivers." Molly
appealed to the instructor. "Weren't they big? They
were huge."
    "You're letting her jump?" Keiko panicked, reach-
ing for Molly. She was only half co'nvinced that riding
was a good idea at her age, but Miles had encouraged

her enthusiasm by bringing her to the holosuite for
her first ride.
    "The pupil has jumped only in the holo-image," the
instructor assured Keiko, apparently programed to
deal with nervous parents. "Molly has nearly com-
pleted the requisite maneuvers for the first level. In
the second level she will learn how to interact with a
real animal."
    Molly's face lit up in glee. "I want more pony rides!
Can I do more, Mommy?"
    "Not today, sweetheart." Keiko exchanged a smile
with Catrin that only mothers could understand.
Then she lifted Molly from the pony, ordering, "End
simulation." When Molly started to whine, she
chided, "It's this little girl's turn. We can't keep her
waiting."
    "Begin infant nursery program," Catrin meekly
requested. A white-clad nurse and a large sunny
nursery appeared around them. "Oh, Krystal! Look at
the bunnies!" Catrin guided the tiny hand to the fur.
"Isn't it soft?"
    Keiko quickly carried Molly outside before she
could get hooked on the rabbits. Ponies were bad
enough. Molly must have decided to be a good girl.
She held her mother's hand without trying to squirm
away as they carefully walked down the spiral stairs.
But she kept insisting she wanted "better pony rides"
next time. Rather than argue with her, Keiko asked
how she got the pony to turn around and what made it
go?
 Absently listening to her daughter's prattle, Keiko

was surprised to feel somewhat wistful over her
fervent joy. It wasn't that she was unhappy with her
life, but it felt as if she was barely keeping up, as if
nothing was settled. It was worse when she saw
someone like Catrin. The woman had given up her
entire way of life and left everyone she knew to live on
the station just because her mate had gotten a good
job. Yet she was happy with this situation in a way
that went beyond a cheerful disposition. Her smile
seemed to resonate deeper than other people's, as if
she was fundamentally satisfied in a way that eluded
Keiko.
    "Come on, Molly. It's time for your nap." She
picked up her daughter to carry her through the bar,
hating the fact that the only holosuites were in
Quark's. Molly couldn't even have a pony ride with-
out having to hear shouts of "Dabbo!" and the
laughter of intoxicated patrons. But Keiko tried not to
rush, knowing that Molly would sense her dislike of
the place and be more bothered by that than anything
she might see, such as the Dabbo girl's large breasts
spilling out of her tight bodice.
    Keiko tried to sneak past, but Leeta's eyes lit up
when she noticed them. "Keiko, you're back! And
Molly, too!" Leeta brushed a finger across the girl's
cheek. "Isn't she just the cutest little thing?"
    It bothered Keiko that she wanted to pull Molly
away, but she couldn't help thinking that Quark's
would somehow contaminate her daughter. And even
though Leeta was a close friend of Dax and Dr.
Bashir, Keiko had only spoken to her a few times.

    "Remember me?" Leeta was asking Molly. "I met
you with your daddy the last time you went pony
riding."
"I want to ride the pony," Molly demanded.
"You already had your lesson," Keiko reminded
her, hoping she wouldn't chose this moment to throw
a tantrum. Molly certainly would if she thought she
could get Leeta's sympathy. "We'll come back another
day."
 "No, now," Molly insisted.
    Leeta grinned at her. "I like to see a girl who knows
her own mind."
    "Oh, Molly knows exactly what she wants. And she
usually wants it right now."
    "Why not?" Leeta asked. "You're only wasting your
life when you put things off. Right, Molly?" Then she
smiled at Keiko. "I know Chief O'Brien would agree.
He can't stand waiting for you both to come home. I
bet you'll be glad when this survey is over and you can
get back to a normal life."
    "The survey will probably last for another few
months," Keiko automatically replied, balking at the
idea of a normal life on DS9. Somehow it seemed
contradictory.
    "You'll be gone that long?" Leeta asked. "Well,
we've been hearing about this visit for weeks. He
really misses you when you're both away." "I know--"
    "Welcome back!" Quark exclaimed, suddenly right
next to Keiko. She edged away, shifting Molly to her
other hip, but that didn't stop the Ferengi. "It's so

nice of you to drop by Quark's! I can't tell you the
satisfaction it gives me to offer quality holo-programs
at a reasonable price to my Starfleet patrons--"
    "Not today, Quark," Keiko told him. With a final
nod to Leeta, she started toward the exit. She didn't
have the energy for a chat with the annoying bar
owner.
    "Wait!" Quark called after her, following them
between the tables. "I have a demo-program I'd like
you to try. It's the Delanian baths, including the
masseuse and private rock grotto. You can do itm"
He grabbed her arm, whispering, "No charge! Just
talk it up among your friends--"
    Keiko shook him off with a disgusted look. "No
thanks." She glanced at the blinking, battered dart
board as she passed by. It was hard to imagine that
this was where Miles spent most of his off time while
she was on Bajor.
    Quark warded her off with raised hands. "I was just
trying to offer you some top-of-the-line entertain-
ment. It's not like you have anything else to do while
you're here."
    Keiko glared at him, but thankfully Molly didn't
seem upset. She was looking around with interest
from her high vantage point. "Let's stay here,
Mommy."
    Quark's approving glance acknowledged the girl for
the first time. "Maybe the O'Brien family should
move in to Quark's. That is, since you all seem to like
it here so much."

"Thank you," Molly replied solemnly, just as her
mother had taught her. "Can I ride the pony?"
 Quark gave Keiko a sly grin. "I don't see why not."
 Keiko rolled her eyes as she turned away. Why did
she ever try to talk sense to Quark? It never worked.
  Abruptly the floor jolted to one side. Keiko man-
  aged to avoid Quark, stumbling into a table where she
  could support Molly. A few people let out frightened
  cries, then there was an instant of silence before the
  babbling surged up again.
    "Something's not right," Quark muttered, glancing
at Keiko. "Only the computer answers when I call
Ops. Hey, maybe O'Brien will talk to you. You can
call from my corn..."
    Keiko left Quark's without another word. She had
no intention of calling Miles, either here or in their
quarters. But she also wasn't going to sit here in the
dark while the station shook itself apart around her.
Hitching Molly more securely against her hip, she
headed for home.
    But Quark wasn't satisfied until he called out from
the doorway, "Tell O'Brien to fix the stabilizers. This
isn't good for business!"

    Dax was busy with her own problems, but there was
no way she could miss it when Sisko asked for
Kasidy's call to be transferred to his office.
    Since Kasidy had been on the station barely a week,
Dax was highly interested in the effect her presence
would have on Benjamin. She watched him through
the glass doors and could almost hear his calm tone as

he explained about the plasma storm. Actually, it
made sense for Kasidy to check on the situation. Sisko
had been called away in the middle of preparing his
Bajoran sailship for their afternoon cruise.
    Then Dax had to laugh when she heard O'Brien
pause in the middle of his muttered curses over the
feedback damage to her console. The engineer dashed
off suddenly; apparently he remembered he should
call Keiko. He seemed surprised when his wife wasn't
home.
    "There's some kind of big plasma storm out there,"
he said, keeping his voice low as he left a message.
"You and Molly had better stay in our quarters until
we get everything settled." He checked to see if
anyone was listening. Dax pretended to be absorbed
in the data she was retrieving from her damaged
console. "I won't make it home for lunch, but I'll see
you soon. I love you both."
    O'Brien probably didn't realize he had let out a sigh
as he ended the transmission. Then he was instantly
back to giving orders and wrestling with the tempera-
mental power systems.
    Dax finished her data retrival, then joined Kira at
the central Ops console. Kira had appeared in Ops
not long after Sisko had arrived, even though it was
her day off as well.
    As Sisko returned from his office, Dax said, "I'd
like to go down to the science lab and coordinate our
analysis of the storm. The science station here won't
be much use for a while."

    Sisko came down the steps. "What's our current
status?"
    Dax accessed the information from the Ceres, put-
ting the star chart of the nearby sectors on the
tabletop display so both Kira and Sisko could see. The
swirling edge of the storm was rendered in broken,
shifting color lines according to the frequency and
wavelengths of the emissions.
    "The plasma nearly covers the neighboring sector."
Dax pointed to the mass of the storm that blocked the
starfield. "And it's moving extremely fast, causing the
high level Alfven waves, both electromagnetic and
radiation emissions, that are shaking the station.
These shock fronts are also distorting our sensors, so
it's difficult to track the trajectory and intensity of the
storm."
    "According to this, the storm is projected to pass
through the far corner of the Bajoran sector," Sisko
said. "That shouldn't be too bad." "It's a big storm, Benjamin."
    "We already have reports from vessels in the area,"
Kira confirmed. "The shock waves are interfering
with navigation. I've recommended a docking alert
for the Bajoran colonies."
    Sisko glanced at Dax. "Perhaps we should do the
same."
    "It's probably a good idea," Dax admitted. "The
shock waves will only get stronger as the storm
passes."
 Kira made a sound as if that was an understate-

ment. "Remember that plasma storm last year?
Everything was vibrating for days."
    Sisko nodded to Kira. "Issue a general alert on all
hailing frequencies. Warn vessels to dock or evacuate
the sector. Include the coordinates and estimated
trajectory of the storm."
    "It's going to get pretty crowded around here," Kira
warned.
    "Coordinate with Bajoran Flight Control to route
vessels to the nearest satellites or colony bases." Sisko
frowned. "We can also open up those auxiliary docks
and use the runabout landing pads if we need to."
    'Tll shuffle some of the smaller vessels," Kira
agreed. Sisko turned to Dax. "I know Dr. Bashir is
busy with the injured crew of the Ceres, but include
his report on the radiation damage in your assessment
of the storm."
    "The shields of the Ceres were down during their
exposure," Dax reminded him.
    O'Brien quickly put in, "We'll have no trouble with
our shields, sir. I've got both generators operating at
peak levels. The worst we'll have to deal with are these
tremors." As if on cue, the deck shuddered. "Our
stabilizers are compensating, but I'm working on a
way to tie in the long-range sensors for a faster
reaction time."
    "Good," Sisko told the chief. "I'm sure that would
make everyone on the station feel much better."
O'Brien looked as if he fully understood. He was
probably thinking about Keiko and Molly.
 "Sir?" Kira asked. "I have Captain Ari of the

Reaper demanding to speak with you. I've put him off
a half dozen times but he won't let me re-dock his
vessel unless you talk to him first."
    Worf went rigid with attention. "Sir, Captain Ari is
the commander of the Reaper, a Sattar transport. I am
currently completing the analysis of my latest inspec-
tion."
    "Latest?" Sisko asked, as Dax leaned closer to see
the display. Worf had already replied to Captain Ari's
official complaint by posting the storm warning for
ships to dock or evacuate the area. Sisko pointed out,
"They have clearance to evacuate through the worm-
hole. Why have you sealed their docking clamps?"
    Worf hesitated. "I suspect the Reaper may be in-
volved in the attack on the Ceres. However my
investigation is not yet completed."
    "You'll have to formally charge them to hold them
here, Commander," Kira warned.
    Worf shook his head, indicating he didn't have
enough evidence for that.
    "No wonder the captain wishes to speak to me,"
Sisko murmured.
    Dax knew this was important to Worf. He had
completely ignored the flurry over the storm, concen-
trating on his investigation of the Ceres and the
Reaper. Not since their fight with the Klingons had
she seen him so absorbed and invigorated by his
duties.
    "Captain," she offered, drawing everyone's atten-
tion. "I had intended to suggest that the wormhole be
closed to traffic."

  Sisko raised one brow. "Why?"
    "Alfven shock waves are penetrating the wormhole
every time a ship goes through. We're already picking
up elevated levels of ion compensation, among other
things."
    Sisko didn't miss the timeliness of her suggestion.
Yet it was clear from Worfs reaction that he hadn't
expected her assistance.
    Sisko told Kira, "Along with that storm warning,
include notification that the wormhole is temporarily
closed."
    "But, sir," Kira protested. "Most of the ships were
planning to leave the sector through the wormhole."
    Dax held firm. "I don't want to risk alestabilizing it
any further."
    Sisko agreed. "Give me your preliminary report
within the hour, Commander. Oh, and Major, send
the new notification to the Sattar ship. Inform them
that I am currently engaged with emergency duties."
  "Aye, sir," Kira replied.
    Dax followed Sisko up the steps as if heading for
the turbolift to the science lab. But she quietly slipped
into his office after him. "May I join you for a
moment?"
    As soon as the door closed behind them, Sisko
asked, "What's wrong, Old Man?"
    Dax almost smiled. "That was a Curzon maneuver,
wasn't it?"
    "You're even better at it than he was." Sisko leaned
against his desk. "Out with it."

"I'm not sure yet, but the plasma storm appears to
be veering off its original course."
    "You mean it might pass directly through this
system?" Sisko guessed.
    "I'll know more within the hour," Dax assured
him. "Some of the Ceres information has certainly
been distorted by the emission waves. But if the bulk
of it is correct, the storm has made a significant
change in course and is heading directly toward us."
"What caused it to do that?" Sisko asked.
    Dax shrugged. "I've never seen a storm like this
before. But I'm afraid the wormhole might be a
factor. We've seen the accelerator effect it has on
electromagnetic waves. It could be drawing the storm
in our direction."
    "I see. That's why you recommended we close the
'wormhole. Will that cause the storm to shift course
again?"
    "It might. Then again, we haven't completely
closed the wormhole. There's still the partial opening
of the subspace relay to the Gamma Quadrant."
     "You aren't suggesting we close the relay?" Sisko
 asked.
    "I'm not sure if we couM close it. It was practically
burned into the subspace fabric by those comet frag-
ments."
     "And if we deactivated the relay, we would have no
 warning of what the Jem'Hadar and the Dominion
 are doing." Sisko shook his head. "No, the relay has
 to stay open."

    Dax nodded. "This is all speculation, anyway. The
Ceres data is definitely distorted..." She tried to
give him a reassuring smile, but couldn't quite pull it
off.
 "Do your best," Sisko told her.
    Then Dax had to face everyone in Ops. Like Sisko,
they knew her well enough to realize there was
something going on. But she didn't want to worry
everyone needlessly. Besides, if her hunch was cor-
rect, they would hear the bad news soon enough.

0

CHAPTER
        3

Ooo PAUSED AT the railing overlooking the Prome-
nade. He had made a general announcement to the
public areas of the station regarding the emergency
docking order. He thought it would calm everyone to
know that the tremors were caused by emissions from
the plasma storm, yet the level of excitement contin-
ued to heighten along with the influx of evacuees from
the newly arriving vessels.
    The activity on the Promenade reminded him of a
Bajoran festival day, right down to the singing and
dancing, as streams of people entered the temple. Not
only were there more Bajorans, but there was a
sampling of every other sort of humanoid race, espe-
cially in Quark's Bar. Odo had stopped by the bar for
a moment but he couldn't stand Quark's jubilant

pleasure in the face of the emergency. The tight
Ferengi wasn't even complaining much about broken
serving ware or spills, so you knew it had to be a
profitable day.
    Odo surveyed the throngs, mystified by the human-
oid tendency to react to a crisis by throwing off all
self-restraint. It was as if they were compelled to
mirror chaos with chaos, when, by rights, they should
be extra cautious during times of uncertainty. Many
seemed to be indulging in a sensory abandonment
comparable to his liquid state, yet he would no more
start sliding down the banister right now than he
would enter an open airlock with a Cardassian at
his back. Didn't humanoids know how fragile they
were?
    Take Jake--there he was, leaning too far over the
railing, trying to see everything happening down
below on the Promenade.
    Odo casually strolled past. "Back up there," he
warned the young man. "You wouldn't want one of
these shock waves to send you over the rail."
    Jake straightened up, undaunted by Odo's tone.
"Hi there, Constable. Isn't this great?"
    "I'm not sure what is so 'great' about an emergency
docking order," Odo replied, clasping his hands be-
hind his back. "The station has already reached
maximum capacity, and several more ships are wait-
ing to dock."
    "It's not really dangerous, is it?" Jake asked, more
concerned.
"No, not really," Odo assured him. "But whenever

this many people are gathered in a confined area,
there's bound to be trouble. Not to mention acci-
dents. Why isn't everyone more careful?"
    Jake shook his head in amusement. "You've just got
to see it as a surprise holiday. A lot of these crews
weren't expecting to get shore leave for weeks."
    "Hmmm... I'm not sure your father would like
you to be wandering around in all of this."
    "My father is the one who keeps telling me to
experience life. He'll probably want a blow-by-blow
report when he gets home tonight."
    Odo made a disapproving sound, but he let the
matter drop. "I would suggest you stock up on food
supplies. I hear there's a run on the replicators."
    That hit Jake in a vital spot. He instantly started for
his quarters. "Thanks for the tip! See you around."
    "I'm sure," Odo murmured to himself. He had
recommended a curfew for nonessential personnel,
but Sisko had vetoed his suggestion. As the shock
waves grew worse, perhaps the captain would recon-
sider.
    One of his security staff signaled. "Sir, Starfleet
security say they're having some trouble at the airlock
to the Ceres. A Sattar is there looking for Commander
Worf."
    Odo had flagged any unusual activity among the
Sattar for his immediate attention. He had noticed
that Commander Worf had established surveillance
on the Reaper shortly after it arrived, and Odo was
interested in anything that caught Worf's attention.
"Where is the Sattar now?"

  "They're holding her at the aifiock."
    "Send two security personnel there. I'm on my
way." He intended to handle this personally. The
Sattar were the best covert transports available, with
the captains controlling the "members" with a combi~
nation of familial and dictatorial authority. Then
again, the Sattar had learned their trade while dodg-
ing the iron fist of the Klingons.
    Odo unobtrusively made his way to the back of the
Promenade, into one of the crossover bridges. With
the slowdown in turbolift service, he decided to allow
himself the luxury of traveling through the mainte-
nance corridors.
    Checking to make sure no one was watching, he
slipped into the shadowed bulkhead. Unlocking the
access door, he poured himself through the crack.
Using the gravity of the station, he streamed down the
ladder of the lower pylon, curving around power
conduits and passing effortlessly through grillwork.
    He had to reform to clear the security checks, but it
was quicker than any other route. Besides, he usually
excused his liquid forays through the station since
they enabled him to become familiar with every nook
and cranny. If shapeshifters were actively moving
around DS9, they would be doing it this way.
    Odo reformed before leaving the maintenance cor-
ridor. With the current alert regarding Dominion
infiltration, he didn't want to take the chance of
anyone seeing him re-solidify. If he ever got shot, he
would wake up in a puddle in front of Captain Sisko,
and his pride wouldn't allow that.

    He smoothed his uniform, though he was certain it
was in place. It was as much a part of him as his eyes
or his hands. But his time with the Dominion had
taught him that in every gesture lay the essence of the
life-form. Since his primary form was a Bajoran male,
he tried to be a Bajoran male, even if he wasn't very
good at it.
    Odo strode into the docking bay, a narrow, echoing
space that doubled as a cargo hold. Ensign Mooh was
the only Starfleet security guard on duty outside the
closed airlock to the Ceres.
    A small, huddled Sattar leaped up from a blue
packing container at Odo's approach. She barely
reached his chest, but she was threatening in her
intensity, her dark red mane standing on end. "I
know who you are. You're that shapeshifter!"
    The security guard edged forward, ready to draw
her phaser.
    "I am Odo, chief of security for this station," he
said, though he wasn't surprised that the Sattar knew
exactly who he was. It was their mission in life to
gather useful bits of information. "And who might
you be?"
    "Cali, senior mate of the Reaper, Sattar Collec-
tive," she retorted, lifting her chin.
    "I see." Odo listened to Ensign Mooh report that
Senior Mate Call had tried to force her way into the
Ceres, and had to be physically removed from the
airlock. Odo had dealt with members of the Sattar
Collective before, but it was apparently a new experi-
ence for Mooh.

    "Cali, senior mate, you are charged with creating a
disturbance," Odo informed her. "And for attempted
trespass."
    "I only wanted to see that Klingon. You know, the
one in Starfleet. That Commander." She said the
word like a curse. "He's done this to us, kept us here,
missing our contract deadline in the Gamma Quad-
rant. He's got to pay for it!"
    "The entire sector has been shut down due to the
plasma storm," Odo assured her. "The Reaper isn't
the only ship that has been prevented from going
through the wormhole."
    "We would have been gone long before the alert if
that Commander hadn't canceled our clearance."
    Odo had already noted the security hold on the
Reaper in his latest report on Sattar activity. "Never-
theless that doesn't explain your presence here," he
told her. "Commander Worf is stationed in Ops."
    "I couldn't get into Ops," she grumbled. "But then
some yellow-shirts said there's lots of security action
in this pylon, something to do with the Klingon." She
glared at the guard and the phaser on her hip. "This
one wouldn't let me get half a word out before she
called for security backup." She leaned toward Mooh.
"You always this twitchy?"
    The guard simply looked at Odo, exactly as she
should. That was one of the nicer perks of working
with trained Starfleet personnel: they always appealed
to a higher rank.
    "This is a secured area," Odo told the Sattar. "No
unauthorized personnel are allowed to enter."

"I don't see why not. The turbolift brought me."
"It shouldn't have," Odo said grimly. Mooh quietly
agreed. "She must have done something to it, but
there's no sign of tampering. The lock-outs are still in
place."
    "Hey, I didn't do anything," Cali protested. "Is it
my fault if the thing brings me here?"
    Odo thought Cali's innocent expression was rather
overdone. Then two of his Bajoran security officers
arrived.
    Cali lifted her hands into the air. "How many
people does it take to kick one warm body out of a
docking bay? Don't you all have anything better to
do?"
    "Take her to the brig," Odo told the security team.
Then to the Sattar, he added, "I'll inform the Reaper
that a senior officer must come for you. Perhaps
waiting in a holding cell will show you that your
actions have consequences."
    Cali bristled even more, shaking tufts of hair in her
fury. "I only wanted to talk to him! You interfering
pack of vetlhpu'."
    Security hustled her off, silencing her objections.
Odo moved to the console, activating the viewer.
Mooh thoughtfully removed herself to the vicinity of
the airlock.
 Worf's face appeared on the screen. "Yes, Chief?."
    "Commander, the Ceres was just visited by a rather
irate Sattar. She was demanding to see you."
    "Sattar!" Worf muttered, sounding remarkably like
Cali when she had said commander.

    "It was one of the senior mates of the Reaper, name
of Cali. Would you like me to hold her?" Odo asked.
    "No, you need not detain her on my behalf." Worf
consulted his console as if ready to deactivate their
communication.
    Meanwhile Odo accessed recent security activity.
"I suppose you have to agree it's a strange place for
the prime suspect to appear, right on the doorstep of
the Ceres. Yet I see that you no longer have the Reaper
under surveillance. I gather the Sattar had no part in
the attack on the Ceres."
    Worf was taken aback, but he quickly replied, "The
Reaper is incapable of inflicting the damage done to
the Ceres. "Then he recited a list of statistics concern-
ing firepower and shields, making it clear that the only
way the Reaper could attack the Ceres was by ram-
ming her at full speed, and even then they would
probably bounce off the duranium hull.
    "Good," Odo agreed. "I will attempt to quell the
rumor mill. It's likely the Sattar became aware of your
suspicions, provoking this little display."
    "Perhaps." Worf looked uncomfortable, and
abruptly changed the subject. "Captain Sisko will
shortly be making a general announcement regarding
the storm."
 "Oh? I hadn't heard of any new developments."
    Worf didn't rise to the bait. "You are to report to
Ops for a storm briefing at fifteen hundred hours."
    "Very well, Commander." Odo thoughtfully deacti-
vated the viewer. He would prefer to know all the

information when it concerned the station. Yet Worf
had made it clear that this lay under his jurisdiction.
    Odo could certainly understand the need for securi-
ty, yet WoWs manner was far more curt and dismis-
sive than most of the other Starfleet personnel.
Frankly, it reminded him of Cardassian behavior--
their arrogance and pride, confident that they knew
how to do everything better than everyone else.
Watching Worf the past few weeks had made him
realize just how much his own mannerisms had been
subconsciously based on those of his former Cardas-
sian commanders. He was beginning to wonder if it
was necessary to distance himself so much from other
people. It didn't seem to be doing any good for
Commander Worf.
    Nodding to Mooh, Odo entered the turbolift to go
back up the pylon. Experienced shapeshifters were
capable of ascending as easily as descending, but he
wasn't adept enough to scale such heights.
    He exited on the habitat ring, intending to have a
walk around before returning to the Promenade.
There were a few minor things to take care of, but he
discovered a bigger problem when he ordered a
Madkin family to clear the main corridor. They
informed him that the transient quarters were full.
    "You can't block this exit," Odo told them, consid-
ering the station's limited options for additional
housing. "If you will please wait in the Promenade,
we will soon have temporary quarters arranged for
you."

    The Marlkins grumbled as they gathered up their
neat campsite, complete with tenting covers and walls
of storage containers. They finally moved along, re-
luctantly dragging the containers as the youngest
child cried at being woken up. Odo waited nearby
until they left. Mafikins were basically law-abiding
citizens, but they had a tendency to be stubborn.
    Odo was just leaving when O'Brien dashed around
the corner. Without thinking, Odo curved away from
him so they wouldn't touch. He wasn't sure if O'Brien
noticed.
    "Sorry, Constable!" O'Brien exclaimed. He hardly
paused. "Got to get to Keiko before Sisko's announce-
ment."
    "Chief," Odo called out, trying to make him stop.
"We need to establish temporary quarters. Appar-
ently some of the indigent--"
    "We're already on it! We're turning cargo bays
fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen into housing. I'll meet
you at your office with the plans. But right now I've
got to go..."
    O'Brien gave him a wry, what-else-can-I-do shrug
as he hurried off.

    The first thing O'Brien heard when he came
through the door was the sound of crying in the other
room.
 "What's wrong with Molly?" he asked.
    "She's throwing a tantrum. Just ignore her." Keiko
brushed it off irritably. "What's happening with this
storm?"

    O'Brien braced himself against another tremor.
"You two better stay inside. The station is getting
more ships than we bargained for now that the
wormhole is closed."
    "I got your message," she reminded him. "Why
can't I access the trajectory of the storm?"
    "I think Dax is still working on it. But I'm sure
everything will be fine. We've got the station in tip-top
order. That is, as tip-top as this place ever gets."
    Keiko frowned. "Miles, you're not talking to Molly.
I don't need you to come in here and give me a pep
talk. I want to know what's going on."
    O'Brien made himself go to the replicator and order
some coffee before he answered. He had come all the
way down here in the middle of that mess in Ops, and
Keiko still wasn't satisfied. He wanted to throw his
hands into the air and give up. What else could he do?
    The replicatot indicated that it would take thirty
minutes for his coffee to arrive. "Damn!" he mut-
tered.
    Now Molly was practically screaming in her room,
calling out, "Daddy! Daddy! I want my Daddy!"
    "Maybe I should go in there," he suggested, trying
to peek through the half-open door. "She sounds
upset."
    "Let her be upset," Keiko said. "I told her she has
to wait until tomorrow for another pony ride. She
doesn't know how lucky she is that I'm willing to take
her into Quark's again."
    Keiko threw herself down on the couch, thumbing
through some readings on the data clip. He recog-

nized it as the one she used for her Bajor hybrid-grain
project.
    "I could take her in tomorrow if you'd tike," he
offered. "What did the instructor say?"
    "He says she's almost ready for the second level
pony program, but I think she should wait another
half year."
    "That's my litfie horsewoman," Miles said proudly.
"And to think she's only been riding a few times!
Maybe we'll both do a program tomorrow. There's
some country in County Cork I'd like to show her on
horseback."
    Keiko threw the clip aside. "That's just like you,
Miles! Can't you take my word for it, just this once?
She's not ready for a real pony."
    He felt the sting of her unjust accusation, but his
voice was quiet. "I don't get much time with her, but I
try to be involved with my daughter while she is
here."
    Keiko met his eyes, instantly showing how much
she regretted her remark. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miles. I'm
just going nuts here with nothing to do except deal
with Molly."
    O'Brien pushed aside his irritation and sat down on
the couch next to his wife, though he was fully aware
that fifteen different people were waiting for his
orders. Picking up the clip, he said, "I thought you
were cataloging your samples."
    "This time I caught up on the way here. At least that
twenty-hour delay at the moon station was good for
something..." He winced in sympathy at her expres-

sion. He had only traveled once or twice with Molly,
and it was not something he would soon forget.
Glumly she added, "There's nothing more I can do
now without a botany lab."
    "Maybe after the storm blows over you can use the
science lab." O'Brien wanted to forge on, but it was
difficult to have a pleasant conversation with their
daughter screaming in the next room. And he still
hadn't gotten to the reason for his visit. He had to tell
Keiko before she heard it from Sisleo. "SPeaking of
the storm, you better stock up on food and water. It's
starting to look as though it's going to pass through
this sector, maybe even this system."
    "I thought that might be the reason why the trajee-
tory was classified!" Keiko exclaimed. "The plasma
mass is optically thick, and there's not much informa-
tion from inside blackbody sources. Dax must be
going wild over this."
    O'Brien had expected her to be worried. Instead she
was thrilled. He would never be able to figure her out.
"How do you know so much about plasma storms?"
    Keiko gave him that sneaky grin he liked so much.
"I used your computer to tap into some of the sensor
data. But the science lab has restricted most of it."
    "Maybe I can do something about that." O'Brien
patted her leg as he got up, glad there was finally
something he could do for her. "I can use my clear-
ance to get you the same sensor information as the
science lab, along with access to their analysis."
    She jumped up and reached the console ahead of
him. "Oh, Miles! I didn't want to ask. I know it's not

strictly protocol, but I'd like to find out more about
it."
    "I don't see why you can't watch the storm from
here." With a few keystrokes and a voice command,
he accessed the data being processed by the science
lab. "There you are."
    Keiko hardly waited for him to finish before sliding
her chair closer. "There were some unusual readings I
wanted to check out. There's often a wide range of
plasma types within fields and moving masses, and
the catalyst reactions are fascinating."
    "Good." O'Brien watched her for a moment, feel-
ing pleased with himself. Molly was still crying in the
other room, but at least she wasn't screaming any-
more. Maybe he should go in and talk to her, try to
cheer her up as well.
    "What's this?" Keiko asked, then sat back with a
sigh. The station's general intercom signal was re-
placed by the image of Captain Sisko, looking quite
calm.
    "As many of you are aware," Sisko began, "we have
issued an emergency docking alert due to the ap-
proaching plasma storm. According to our reports,
the storm will last at least another twenty-four hours.
In addition, the tremors will increase in severity
before they lessen." He paused to let the seriousness
of his statement sink in. "Those of you who are
unable to find lodgings may report to cargo bays
fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen." His gentle smile
indicated he understood the difficulty of the situation.
"At least it's a bed, folks. I know we're all a little

cramped, but it's only for one night. Captain Sisko,
out."
    "SoUnds like a warning and a pat on the head at the
same time," Keiko muttered, instantly returning to
the science data.
    "Just be glad we have our own quarters," O'Brien
told her. "I'm going to help set up cots in the cargo
bays."
    "Have fun, dear." She smiled at him in sudden
understandin~ She even got up to kiss him.
    O'Brien squeezed her waist with his hand, hesitat-
ing to go. There was only a muffled sob or two coming
from Molly's room, and he considered looking in on
her, but he was afraid that would only get her started
again. She still wasn't clear on the concept of"tomor-
ww" versus "now." Besides, how would he have the
heart to refuse those dark, teary eyes if she begged for
a ride on the pony?
    Ke'lko returned to the console, hardly bothering to
glance up as the door opened. But at least she was
feeling better. If only it was always as easy as a few
keystrokes.

49

0

CHAPTER
       4

WORF WAS SUPERVISING the pod inspection of the warp
nacelles of the Ceres when he received an urgent
summons to meet Commander Dax in the science lab.
When he entered, both Bajoran and Starfleet scien-
tists were busy at every post in the lab.
    Dax detached herself from a group at one side,
saving him the trouble of finding her. "Worf, I'm glad
you could get here before the staff briefing."
    "I do not have much time," he reminded her. "I
must complete the preliminary report on the Ceres
investigation."
    "I think you'll want to see this." Dax seated herself
at one of the main consoles. "And I'm sure Captain
Sisko will want your opinion on it."
 She brought up the standard chart of the neighbor-

ing sectors. A large portion of the starfield was
blacked out by the plasma storm, with radiating lines
indicating the various levels of the emission waves.
The symbol of DS9 blinked in the bottom corner.
    "See this?" Dax magnified an area in front of the
approaching storm. "The ion readings are distorted
by the emission waves, but even that isn't strong
enough to completely scatter the trail." "It is a ship," Worf realized.
    "Yeah, but what is it doing there?" Dax asked.
"They're being bombarded by radiation. Navigation
and sensors must barely be working. It makes no
sense."
    Worf examined her data. "They are accelerating
away from the storm front."
    "They're going awfully slow if they're trying to get
away." Dax glanced at him. "If the emission waves
were at any other angle, I wouldn't have been able to
detect them."
    "The vessel is attempting to hide." Worf was cer-
tain of that. Their trajectory held them within the
densest region of turbulence for exactly the reason he
had been unable to detect their presence on his
tactical sensors. It would take an in-depth analysis of
wave bending, such as what Dax was doing, in order
to spot the vessel. Even with that, they were lucky it
was approaching the station dead on.
    "According to the deflection ratio," she added, "it's
not very large. Twenty-five thousand tons, at most."
 Worf frowned. That was about the size of a family

space-yacht. How could it be the ship that had caused
the damage to the Ceres?
    "Thank you, Commander," he formally acknowl-
edged. "Please continue tracking this vessel, and relay
your information to the tactical station in Ops."
    "Then you'll prepare a report for Sisko?" At his
nod, she added, "If you decide to go after it, let me
know. I'm dying to get closer to that storm before it
gets closer to us." Then she unnerved him by adding,
"I'm sorry the communications relay is down. You're
going to miss Alexander's weekly call."
 Worf drew back. "How do you know about that?"
 "Dr. Bashir told me."
His voice rose. "How did the doctor know?"
"Didn't you tell him?" Dax shrugged it off. "Maybe
it was Lieutenant Lau in communications. They have
lunch together sometimes."
    Worf could think of nothing to say to that. One
simply didn't trade stories about the personal habits
of one's superior officers. At least, not so openly.
    Dax laughed, as if she knew exactly what he was
thinking.
    "Commander," Worf said stiffly in farewell. It was
the correct response, but it sounded faintly absurd
even to him. Maybe it was because Dax was still
laughing as he left the lab.
    As usual, when he arrived at Ops his duties ab-
sorbed any trifling personal considerations he might
have had. The detection of the covert ship was of vital
importance.
 After feeding Dax's data into his tactical console,

he quickly checked the reports from his security
teams. Most were assisting Odo with station patrols,
but the best Starfleet investigators were attending to
the Ceres. Tactically, it had been a perfect attack,
leaving relatively few indicators of the source. But
disruptor damage was obvious even to the naked eye,
and most Klingon vessels used disruptors in their
weapons systems.
    He accessed the trajectory of the unidentified ves-
sel. It was currently gaining position and holding
remarkably steady in the boiling waves of the storm
front. Valiant ship, with power enough to hold its own
despite the adverse conditions.
    The briefing was scheduled to begin within mo-
ments. Odo had already arrived, and the rest of the
senior staff began to gather around the central con-
sole. Worf finished the download of his analysis on the
covert ship, then, out of habit, he quickly checked his
personal code. Since he had arrived at the station, he
had received only one or two messages.
    But this time an unexpected face appeared on the
viewer. It was the Sattar who had escorted him
through the Reaper, the one Odo had taken into
custody. According to the last security report, she had
been released on the recognizance of her captain.
    Cali's face twisted as she spat out, "Qu'vath.t" Worf
tensed at the Klingon oath. She hardly took a breath
as a stream of vile, broadly accented Klingon flowed
out, accusing him of dishonor, deceit, and generally
low behavior. Worf endured the brief tirade, noting
that Call did not ask for anything. She merely seemed

to be venting about the damage that he, Worf, had
personally done to their trade agreements. He resisted
a twinge of guilt, regretting that it had not been more
immediately apparent that the Reaper was incapable
of inflicting damage to the Ceres. As they had with
most Sattar vessels, the Klingons had removed the
more advanced equipment, particularly weapons and
power systems.
    Cali's nostrils flared as she let out a final frustrated
exclamation, comparing him to a form of slime found
in the swamps of Qo'noS. On that note, the message
terminated.
  "Is there a problem, Commander?"
    Worf realized Sisko was standing on the upper deck
while the rest of the senior staff were watching him.
They had obviously heard the angry Sattar, so it was
necessary to give them an explanation. "It is not
important, sir. I believe one of the senior mates of the
Reaper has taken a personal dislike to me."
    'Tm certain you can handle it." Sisko rested both
hands on the console. "Now, if you could join us, we
have plenty of other problems to deal with."
    As Worf approached, he said, "Captain, there is an
urgent matter we nmst discuss."
    Sisko nodded permission, so Worfaccessed the data
for display on the main console. "Commander Dax
found this ion trail during her analysis of the storm. It
appears to be a small vessel. The shock waves pre-
vented my tactical sensors from detecting it."
 "Did you try to hail them?" Sisko asked.

    "No, sir. I believe they are attempting to hide."
Worfpaused, noting that Sisko was not impressed. "It
did not seem advisable to alert them that we are
aware of their presence."
    "But they could be damaged," Kira protested. "Or
maybe their sensors are jammed and they don't know
where they are."
    "Request permission to take the Defiant to investi-
gate." Sisko looked expectantly in Worf's direction.
"Sir," the Klingon added quickly.
    Sisko considered the starfield on the main viewer.
"I don't believe that's necessary. They're almost in
the system now." He turned to Kira. "Try hailing
them."
    "Aye, sir. We're having some trouble with commu-
nications, but they should get something..." She
concentrated over her touchpads as Worf fought back
his disappointment. Why was no one else concerned
about the Klingon's aggressive campaign? They often
talked of the possibility of Dominion infiltration, but
what had the Dominion done compared to the Kling-
on invasion of Cardassia?
 "I'm getting something on audio," Kira said.
    Through the static came the question, "DS9? Is
that..." then, "... in this sector. Location?"
    "Distortion is pretty bad," Kira admitted. "I'm
sending our coordinates and the storm warning via
the burst signal." After a moment she looked up. "It's
the Klingon yacht Katon, under Captain Alons of the
House of Napos."

    Worf's fist softly hit the edge of the console. Kling-
ons! He was right. Napos was a minor house, but one
that fully supported Gowron's policies, presumably
including the attack on Cardassia and the current
hostilities against the Federation.
    He returned to the tactical station. He had not been
ordered to power up weapons, but he was prepared
for anything.
    "The Katon has not altered course," he announced.
"However it has increased speed considerably."
    It took a moment for Kira to piece together a visual
communication. Though it was distorted by the elec-
tromagnetic interference, they could see Captain
Alons reclining back in the captain's chair. He was a
barrel-chested, older Klingon with a languorous,
sneering manner. As usual his brother, Sebas, hovered
nearby. Worf did not recognize the other young
Klingon who was grinning directly, insolently at him.
    Worf tried to ignore the other one as Alons offered
his greetings. "We weren't aware that we were in the
Bajoran Sector, Captain Sisko. Now that we have our
bearings we will be on our way."
    "We have issued an emergency docking alert due to
the storm," Sisko informed Alons. "The conditions
make it unsafe for navigation."
    "Thank you for your... concern." Alons cleared
his throat with a pointedly disgusting sound. "I assure
you that the Katon has gotten us through worse
storms than this."
 "You almost ran us over before you realized we

were here," Sisko reminded the Klingon. "You didn't
even know you were in the Bajoran Sector, much less
the system."
    Alons stretched his lips in imitation of a smile. "All
the more reason for us to leave."
    "I must insist that you dock at DS9," Sisko re-
peated. "For your own safety--"
    The young Klingon barked out a laugh, cutting him
off. "How can you listen to this pugh?" he demanded
to Alons. "When that shapeshifter stands beside him?
And I won't even mention that Denlb Qatlh!"
    Worf hardly flinched. He had heard it all before, the
first time he had accepted disgrace and expulsion
from the High Council. This stripling knew nothing of
his sacrifices for the Klingon Empire.
    "This is Ton," Alons briefly informed Sisko. "El-
dest son of the House of Maang."
    Sisko wasn't amused. "My officers are none of your
concern."
    "It only serves to show your lack of judgment!"
taunted Ton of Maang. "Only scum would stand by
O'web--"
    "Silence!" Alons ordered. "The House of Mogh is
no more."
    Ton showed his brown-stained teeth. "But the
Cybriss valley has flourished since the House of
Maang took over the farms. The name of Mogh has
been struck from every record, and the wine is all the
sweeter for our trouble."
 A growl of surprise rose in Worfs throat. He had

heard that Gowron had given away his family's lands
and holdings, but he had not been able to gather more
specific information. His brother Kurn had not an-
swered his messages for over a month. Worf could
dimly remember tales of his father's hunting lodge in
the Cybriss valley, and vaguely remembered a sum-
mer his family had spent there when he was young.
The thought of this hulking, slobbering idiot striding
across even one acre of the lands belonging to his
family's house...
    Worf snarled, oblivious to everything else. Even
through the broken image it was clear that Ton was
laughing at him, laughing at his loss.
    "Commander," Sisko said with a hint of warning in
his voice.
    The captain's quiet order reminded Worf of his
duty. With difficulty he broke eye contact with Ton,
nodding briefly to Sisko. He prepared the tractor
beams, intending to power up and lock on as soon as
the Katon was within range. Assuming they remained
on course. The Katon could easily gain a long lead
while the Defiant was prepared for departure. Worf
was counting on the fact that the Klingons were
unaware of the extensions he and Chief O'Brien had
added to the station's tractor beams. The addition
seemed like a prudent idea at the time, but he had not
anticipated that his foresight would be so quickly
rewarded.
    Worf signaled the main console that he was ready
with tractor beams, providing a countdown of when
the Katon would be in range.

    "Captain Alons, let's discuss this situation reason-
ably," Sisko requested.
    Alons shook his head. "There is no reasoning with
cowards!" He snapped an order to his helmsman.
    "The Katon is changing course," Worf informed
Sisko. "New heading two four seven, mark five point
one."
    "You can't simply fly through Bajoran space," Sisko
told Alons.
    "Why not?" Alons raised his hands, letting out loud
guffaws as Sebas and Ton joined in.
    Despite the change in course the Katon was curv-
ing into range. Worf was ready when the indicator
blinked, and at Sisko's nod he locked on to the
vessel.
    "All vessels in this sector must dock for the dura-
tion of the storm alert," Sisko politely informed them.
"That includes you."
    For a split second Alons was the perfect vision of
Klingon outrage. Then his image disappeared. The
main viewer showed the Katon swerving in the grip of
the tractor beams. Worfwas busy compensating as the
yacht attempted to form a warp field.
    "The Katon has cut off communications," Kira
announced. "No response."
    Worf refrained from reporting until he had the
situation under control. But he never doubted the
outcome for an instant. "We have the Katon, sir.
Tractors are holding."
 "Bring them into the main dock in lower pylon

one," Sisko ordered. "I want them as far away from
the habitat ring as possible."
    "You'll have to give me a minute to transfer some
ships around," Kira said quickly.
    "Understood," Worf confirmed. It would give him
time to conduct a thorough scan while the Katon was
trying to break free.
    But before he could calibrate the sensors to filter
out the distortion of the emission waves, the Katon
brought her engines to full stop. Only their shields
continued to hold at maximum power, impenetrable
to the station's sensors.
    "The Katon has powered down her engines," Worf
informed Sisko.
    The captain raised one brow. "Perhaps they've
decided to cooperate."
    "You can bring them in now, Commander," Kira
told him, adding, "Still no answer to our hails."
    Dax shrugged. "You can only expect so much
cooperation from Klingons these days."
    Odo crossed his arms, speaking up for the first time.
"That's certainly true."
     "Sir, I believe they do not want us to scan their
power systems," Worf said darkly. "Your reasoning?" Sisko asked.
    Worf automatically went to attention. "The Katon
could be the vessel responsible for the damage to the
Ceres."
  "That's an awfully small ship," O'Brien protested.
  But Odo shook his head. "I've seen even smaller

vessels do worse damage for the Resistance." Kira
smiled briefly in Odo's direction, agreeing, "That was
one of our best tricks--packing engines into hulls the
Cardassians wouldn't consider worth their trouble to
destroy."
    Worf shifted tractor control to the docking chief in
the lower pylon, but he maintained a secondary beam
on the Katon in case Alons tried to escape again.
"Sensors indicate the Katon conforms to standard
designs of the vessel's class. However, their shields are
superior to specifications, and they could be conceal-
ing auxiliary enhancement systems."
  "Suggestions?" Sisko asked.
    "Request permission to board the Katon," Worf
instantly replied. "An internal inspection will reveal
their weapons capability."
    Sisko considered Worf for a moment. "Granted."
He held up a quick finger. "But please, Commander,
try not to antagonize them. I won't let this incident
escalate into an open battle."
    "Aye, Captain," Worf acknowledged, checking his
console. "The Katon has docked. May I proceed?"
    Sisko gave him a wry smile. "Very well, Command-
er. Though you won't be able to convince me you
didn't plan this in order to get out of a briefing
session."
    "No, sir," Worf said, for lack of anything better to
say. But as he headed for the turbolift, he was relieved
that he wouldn't have to endure the endless minor
details of securing the station against the storm.

    As the turbolift descended, he grimly thought that it
was a good thing Starfleet Headquarters had the
foresight to post a Strategic Operations Officer to
DS9, if only to have someone whose main duty was
to protect the most valuable piece of territory within
a hundred light years.

    Captain Ari stood in front of a portal in the senior
mates' lounge of the Reaper, watching as the immense
tractors dragged the Klingon yacht the last few meters
to the docking pylon. Call entered and approached to
a discreet distance, waiting to be recognized.
    "Come see this, Call," Ari said graciously. He
enjoyed granting her permission to do things. It
pleasantly reminded him of the years when Cali's
mother had been the one ordering everyone about. "It
must be the ship Commander Worf was looking for."
    "We're lucky that Starfleet ship showed up in
time," Call commented, casting a disinterested eye on
the Katon. "I can't believe I insulted that Klingon to
his face and he still said he would grant our clearance
for departure."
    "Worf is an unusual Klingon," Ari said absently,
not really concerned with teaching Call the finer
points of character study. Her raw energy was far too
useful to blunt with systems of logical analysis.
"Did you send your message?" Ari asked her.
Call grinned. "I even called him a ghargh! I taped
it if you want to hear. I know I'm going to listen to it
again and again."

    "I'm sure it was a great pleasure for you," Ari
agreed. "Did you remember to point out his dishonor
in canceling our clearance without following proper
procedure?"
    "I wouldn't forget your part of the deal," she
protested in a wounded tone of voice. "I wish I could
do the whole thing over again. It's not every day you
get to insult a Klingon. Or spray plasma in his eyes?
    Ari ignored the senior mate's cackling and moved
on to more practical matters. "Now that we've gained
another day, our members must take care to secure a
good contract."
    "You should see the opportunities waiting out
there," Cali agreed.
    "Make sure it's a one-way contract, one that takes
us far from this sector." Ari thought that Starfleet's
treatment of the Klingon yacht was quite revealing.
When such a tiny ship rated an entire docking pylon,
you knew there were problems. "You stay away from
the Klingons. I'll put Shorci on that."
    "You think the Katon did it?" Call asked, looking
from the sleek yacht to the discolored hull of the
Ceres.
    "That doesn't concern you." Ari impatiently waved
Call off. He was tired of her. "Send everyone out
according to the deal roster. Cause minimal damage.
Make sure Theosi understands that."
    "As you will, Captain." Call bounced on her toes,
eager to get started. "To the members!" she pledged as
she left.

    Ari smiled to himselfi One day she might figure out
that the chains she struggled against were what actu-
ally bound her to the Collective. If she didn't die first,
at some point she would acquire that wisdom. All
Sattar did eventually, they simply required a firm
hand until then.

O

CHAPTER
        5

MOLLY WAS COLORING a tubba with her crayons when
Keiko went in to check on her. As she washed the
girl's tear-stained cheeks (all that was left of her
tantrum) Molly asked about her friend's tubba, the
Bajoran cat-like creature that belonged to one of the
other children of the survey scientists.
    "Tubba went on vacation, too," Keiko told her
daughter. She knew it was only a matter of time
before the subject of a pet came up. Keiko dreaded
that day. It was difficult enough living this gypsy life
with a child. How could she do it with a pet?
    Miles certainly wouldn't be much help. He could
hardly keep a house plant alive. If she hadn't put the
bonsai on an automatic drip, it would be dead by
now. She considered taking it back with her to Bajor,

but she had grown the damn tree for Miles in the first
place. The peat was in fair condition, but the shaggy
trunk and branches of the tiny cypress were going to
have to be brushed for days until the excess bark was
shed.
    Keiko knew she was obsessing again, so she tried to
put the bonsai out of her mind. She had no control
over anything else, why did she think she could train a
tree she hardly ever saw?
    She had just started reading Molly a story when the
computer finally beeped, announcing that her biomet-
ric analysis was completed. It was turning out to be a
complex problem for the lab to analyze the storm
data, so she had used some of the species models she
recently developed to do statistical comparisons of
unfamiliar Bajoran organisms.
    "Insufficient data," was flashing on the viewer.
Molly trailed after her with the book as Keiko sat
down. She keyed in an order to find correlations as
low as sixty percent. When that didn't work, she kept
lowering the percentage until she hit ten percent.
While the computer still didn't consider that to be
sufficient, it found several biological models that
could be loosely applied to the pattern of emission
waves from the plasma storm. There were even un-
mistakable signs of oscillations affecting one another
and responding to outside stimuli.
    Keiko felt a rush of elation that her efforts had
finally yielded some results, even if they were on the
modest side. Her analysis had sorted the data, but
there was barely enough information to make rudi-

mentary graphs of the plasma action. She needed
more data before she could set up an experimental
model, perhaps even incorporating the matrix of
electrodynamic fields within nebulas along with the
biological statistics.
    "Computer," she said out loud. "Where is Com-
mander Dax?"
 "Dax is currently in Ops."
    Keiko hesitated, then chided herself for doubting
the importance of her discovery. From everything she
had seen this afternoon, Dax was having a difficult
time predicting the reactions of this plasma storm.
  "Keiko O'Brien to Commander Dax."
    Dax acknowledged, though she sounded rather per-
plexed. "What can I do for you, Keiko?"
    "Actually I thought I might be able to help you,"
Keiko told her. "I've been running a biometric analy-
sis of the plasma storm and I thought you might be
interested in seeing the results."
    There was a distinct pause, and Keiko could only
imagine the dubious expression on Dax's face.
"We've already tried comparative analysis using eco-
system structures and hydrofluid reaction dynamics."
    "Yes, I know. But I've conducted a statistical sur-
vey, comparing the emissions to the EM matrix of an
individual organism."
    Dax sounded thoughtful. "I'd like to see what you
have. Can you meet me in the science lab on level
four?"
    "Give me a few minutes to settle things here,"
Keiko said, distracted by Molly. The girl was skipping

around the room, making noises as if she were riding
a horse.
    Keiko pulled a loose coverall over her unitard.
"Molly, I'm going to call Ensign Kij and have her
come over to sit with you for a while. That is, if she's
not on duty."
    The floor shifted to one side, and Keiko braced
herself aga/nst the chair. Molly went down on her
knees rather hard.
    "Are you okay?" she asked, almost holding her
breath. She didn't have time for anything dramatic.
    Molly gravely examined her reddened knees, brush-
ing the carpet fibers from her skin. She must have
decided it was nothing. "Kij left, Mommy."
    "She did?" Keiko stared at the girl. "How do you
know?"
    "I called her." Molly trotted over to point to the
touchpad. "With that button."
    "Good for you, Molly." She realized she shouldn't
be surprised at her daughter's resourcefulness. She
was learning how to take care of herself faster than
other children her age, but then again her life wasn't
exactly typical.
    Molly nodded solemnly. "The nice lady said Kij
left. Mommy, where is Wizen-on-Kost?"
    "Far, far away. Kij will be happy there," Keiko said
absently. Now how could she replace the kindhearted
ensign who used to watch over Molly? She thought
about that young Bajoran mother she had met at
Quark's, but Catrin was undoubtedly still working.
 Keiko had already realized she knew almost no one

on the station when she had been forced to leave
Molly alone in the holosuite. There wasn't anybody
here she would even consider a friend. It was ironic
that Molly had more people she wanted to call than
her mother did.
"Come on, Molly. We're going to the science lab."
"On Bajor?" Molly's expression said she wasn't
ready for another interplanetary journey.
    Keiko couldn't blame her. "No, the one here on the
station. Go get your bag." The bag was packed with
small games, story padds, and snacks, plenty to keep a
six-year-old busy whenever Keiko had to take her
somewhere. By the time she had left a message for
Miles in case he happened to return, Molly emerged
from her room with her jacket on and her bag firmly
over her shoulder.
    "You won't need your coat," Keiko reminded her.
"We're on the station, and it's always warm here."
    Molly thought about that until Keiko was ready to
give in and go help her take the jacket off. But she
slowly removed it, dropping it on the floor. "Mommy,
why is it always warm?"
    Keiko sighed, and as she ushered Molly from their
quarters, she tried to explain the life-support systems
of DS9 and planetary weather. Where was Miles when
she really needed him?

    Captain Sisko sighed as he ordered O'Brien to go
deal with the latest malfunction in the overloaded
replicator system. Kira and Odo were quietly talking
about something near her console, not paying any

attention. This briefing wasn't accomplishing much,
anyway. How can it when my senior staff is trickling
away one by one? he thought.
    "Captain?" Dax asked, starting to edge after
O'Brien. "I'd like to go hear what Keiko has found."
    Sisko glared at her without thinking, then apologet-
ically rubbed his eyes with one hand. He hadn't
realized how much he had been looking forward to
taking Kasidy out in the sailship until he couldn't.
"This has turned into some day off," he murmured to
himself.
 "I'm sorry, Benjamin," Dax told him.
    "It's not your fault." He straightened up. "Can't
you tell me anything concrete about the effect the
storm will have on the station?"
    "Not with the data we have to work with," Dax said
flatly. "This isn't the typical plasma storm blowing in
from the Badlands. This one came from beyond
Klingon territory, and it's moving faster than any
storm documented in Starfleet records."
    "You said that Dr. Bashir gave you his report on the
radiation poisoning among the Ceres crew. Surely
that can provide some clues to the composition of the
plasma field."
    "Plasma particles are notoriously hard to differen-
tiate." Dax reminded him. "The same sort of radia-
tion poisoning can be caused by different kinds of
particles and/or energy waves. We're only guessing
until we penetrate the blackbody mass itself."
    "Unless Keiko has come up with something," Sisko
said thoughtfully. "Sisko to Keiko O'Brien."

    There was a longer hesitation than usual, then a
flustered voice answered, "Yes, Captain?"
    "Would you please bring your analysis up to Ops?"
Sisko got Dax's nod as she moved to her science
console. Sometime in the past few hours O'Brien had
found time to repair it.
    Odo moved forward. "If the briefing is over, sir, I'd
like to get back to my post."
    "Certainly, Constable." Sisko managed a slight
smile. "I know a curfew might be the ideal solution,
but I'm afraid that's impossible in this situation.
However you may issue a public safety recommenda-
tion for everyone to stay in their quarters, either on
their ships or here on the station."
    Kira put in, "I've already advised the off-duty
service personnel to remain in their quarters."
"Do the same for Starfleet officers," Sisko ordered.
Odo nodded. Sisko noted that he looked grudgingly
pleased that his advice had been taken seriously, even
if it was not entirely implemented. The chief hesitated
as he started past the major, but Kira turned away to
tell Sisko, "Commander Worf has relayed a message
that the Klingons are refusing to open their airlock."
    Sisko gestured to Odo. "Constable, see if you can
assist Mister Worf. I don't want those Klingons to
come out fighting."
 "Understood, Captain."
    Dax grinned at Odo as he went to the turbolift.
"While you're at it, why don't you ask for their sensor
logs on the plasma storm? I bet the Katon got a good
look inside."

    Kira rolled her eyes. "As if the Klingons would ever
tell us."
    Dax agreed. "Worf will be lucky if he can convince
them to open the airlock."
    "Before we condemn them, let's first give them a
chance to cooperate," Sisko said lightly.
    Both Kira and Dax looked down at their consoles,
shamefaced. Sisko was determined to keep a check on
the paranoia among his senior staff. Assumptions
could inspire a deadly reaction in the current galactic-
political climate.
    He braced his chin in his hand, considering their
limited options. But his calculations of energy output
to shield intensity were lost as he started to wonder
what Jake was doing. Perhaps he should call and tell
Jake to stay inside tonight. Things were bound to get
wild with all the crews stranded on the station.
    "Let me know when Keiko arrives," he told Dax,
going into his office.
    He sat down and signaled his quarters, drumming
his fingers on the desk when Jake didn't answer.
"Computer, where is Jake?"
"Jake Sisko is in the habitat ring, level fifteen."
"Tell him to contact me in Ops." Sisko turned the
viewer to a better angle, waiting for Jake to answer via
the station's intercom.
    Jake was panting when he came on, and his face
bobbed out of the frame as he looked behind him.
"Just a minute!" he called to someone. 'Tll be right
there--"

 "Jake, what are you doing?" Sisko didn't want to
sound irritated, but he also didn't have time for this.
 "I'm hanging out with some friends." Jake seemed
 surprised he asked. "I told you earlier. I met these
 students from the University at Betazed and, boy, are
 they--" He paused to yell off screen, "All right, I'm
 coming!" He turned back to his dad. "They're a lot of
 fun."
    Jake had mentioned the Betazoids when Sisko
called to say he and Kasidy wouldn't be going out on
the sailship. The students had been en route to the
Gamma Quadrant to conduct an inter-species em-
pathic survey when the emergency alert had forced
their ship to dock at the station.
    "Jake, I think it would be best if you stayed home
tonight."
    "Why?" Jake's smile faltered. "What's wrong,
Dad?"
    "Nothing, except that the station is overcrowded,
and anything could happen."
    Jake leaned closer so the others couldn't hear.
"Think about what you just said, Dad. I'm not going
to stay home because 'anything could happen.'" He
widened his eyes in exasperation, then gave his dad a
reassuring grin. "I've got to go now. They're waiting
for me."
    Sisko nodded, trying to give in gracefully. He
couldn't squash Jake's excitement, not when he was
so pleased that the young adults had accepted him on
their own level.

    As the transmission terminated, Sisko was left
wondering what had prompted him to caution Jake
like that. Jake could take care of himselfi And if he
couldn't, then the station was the best place for him to
learn, while his father was nearby to lend a helping
hand if he needed it. Jake would be much more on his
own when he went to study on Earth.
    "Captain?" Dax called through the intercom.
"Keiko is here."
    Sisko noticed the changed dynamic in Ops as soon
as the door opened. Everyone was watching Keiko as
she bent over her little girl. Molly was laughing and
pointing up to something in the ceiling of Ops,
chattering brightly. The crew were smiling in re-
sponse, and for a moment, everyone was relaxed.
    That changed as soon as Sisko spoke. "Thank you
for coming, Keiko."
    She handed Molly the toy, straightening up. "Sorry
I had to bring her, Captain. I couldn't get a sitter."
    "That's quite all right." Sisko glanced down at
Molly. The girl put her finger in her mouth and stared
up at him, suddenly as solemn as his crew. "Welcome
back to the station, Molly."
    "Remember Captain Sisko, honey?" Keiko re-
minded her daughter.
 Molly nodded. "Can I ride the pony?"
    "First, let me speak to your mother for a moment."
Sisko turned back to Keiko. "I didn't know you were
interested in plasma physics."
 "I'm not." Keiko shifted her eyes from him to Dax.

"If this had been your basic hydrogen-complex plas-
ma storm, I wouldn't have spent all afternoon exam-
ining the emissions."
    Dax asked, "You said you ran the data against a
biometric model?"
    "Yes, because of the complexity of wave reactions.
Everything from rapid Doppler shifts and magneto-
optical effects, not to mention the wide number of
magnetic fields being produced."
    Dax was taking her seriously. "Come show me what
you've got."
    She moved over to make room for Keiko at the
science station. Keiko input her data clip and concen-
trated on the program display. "The best match was
against a plankton biomodel."
 "Plankton?" Sisko repeated doubtfully.
    "Yes, you know, algae, bacteria, ph54am, and non-
motile organisms that float in water."
    "I know what plankton is," Sisko told her. "But
what does plankton have in common with plasma?"
    "Well, nothing, really," Keiko admitted. "That's
why biometric analysis works when you don't have
much data. It's used to compare organisms of differ-
ent species, even plants and animals. My analysis
indicates that the biometric behavior of plankton fits
some of the same statistical curves as the sensor
readings of the plasma storm."
    Sisko thought Dax's reaction was revealing. "I've
never heard of anyone trying that."
 "I only found a ten percent correlation," Keiko

 quickly pointed out. "What I need is more informa-
 tion on the internal conditions, the particle content,
 and rates of energy fluctuation."
    Dax shook her head. "We've sent in probes, but we
aren't receiving telemetry from within the black-
body." She gestured to one spiked pattern. "I've
studied biometric analysis before, but the way these
coefficients are graphed is confusing. Is that curve the
response to external stimulation?"
    "Yes, you can see some of the structured continu-
um, relating the past behavior to future reactions.
That's movement." Keiko pointed to the indicators
on the graph overlay. "I'd say it's changed course
sometime during the past six hours."
    Dax looked up at Sisko. "Her trajectory confirms it.
The storm has been drawn off course by the worm-
hole."
    Sisko looked back at Keiko. "What effect do you
think the storm will have on the station?"
    She was taken aback. "I don't know, sir. We need
more data on the internal conditions, but once we
have that, we could use the biometric models to break
it down mathematically. Then the variables, such as
phase lengths and radiation dynamics, could be pre-
dicted."
    "O'Brien could use that information to adjust the
shields for maximum coverage," Dax agreed. "Also, if
we took a runabout inside, we'd be able to test the
turbulence of the magneto-hydrodynamic systems in-
side the storm. That would help us shape the structur-

al integrity field to protect the areas of the hull that
would incur maximum stress."
    "Very well," Sisko finally agreed. "But if you must
go into the storm for your tests, why not use the
Defiant?"
    Dax pursed her lips in thought. "I'm not sure I can
create an electrostatic field around something as big
as the Defiant. And the runabout has much shorter
shield harmonics, creating less mass interference
within the waves. We need to distort our readings as
little as possible."
    "Of course. Then a runabout it is," Sisko agreed.
"Use the Rubicon--have O'Brien help you with the
alterations to the shields. That's a priority." He
glanced at Keiko, who was whispering to Molly to
wait just a minute more. Sisko tried not to think
about Jake. "And Dax, take an experienced pilot with
you. You'll need the help."
    "Captain?" Keiko asked, still holding Molly's
hand. "I'd like to go with Dax. There are a number of
special techniques for sampling and identification
when you're using biometric models." She must have
seen his hesitation, because she quickly added, "I'm
also fully qualified to pilot a runabout."
    Sisko tried to soften his refusal. "I'm sorry, but I
can't allow noncommissioned personnel to go into
such a dangerous situation."
    "But I'm a member of the survey team to Bajor,
technically a member of Starfleet." Keiko ignored the
pleading of Molly who was pulling on her hand for

attention. "You won't find another scientist on this
station with more knowledge of biometric analysis.
And I'm already familiar with the plasma storm."
    Sisko leaned over and tapped the access code that
had appeared along with Keiko's data. "Yes, I see you
that you are. I didn't mention how you acquired your
data, but now that you bring it up, what will Chief
O'Brien say to your going?"
  Keiko gave him a look without batting an eye.
    Sisko had never been so smoothly corrected. He
turned to Dax. "What do you think, Commander?"
    Dax tensed, recognizing a critical situation. "I
could use Keiko's help," she admitted. "Biophysics
isn't my strongest suit."
    Molly was still tugging on Keiko's hand, her voice
rising as she asked to see the console "where Daddy
worked."
  "What about Molly?" Sisko asked in a low voice.
  "I'm doing this for Molly," Keiko replied.
    "But who will take care of her? You said you
couldn't find anyone."
    Keiko's expression was pinched, as if she didn't
want to discuss it. "I can leave her with the holonanny
until Miles is done with work."
    "Very well," he agreed. 'Tll pass an order along to
Quark to make one of his holosuites available for
you."
"Thank you, Captain." But Keiko didn't smile.
Sisko returned to his office, feeling as if he had
handled that rather badly. He had never questioned
any other crew member's ability to go on a mission

because of a lack of a sitter. Then again, Keiko was
not a member of his crew.
    Yet she was his responsibility because she was on
DS9. Just like Kasidy...
    He realized that it was Kasidy who was doing this
to him. He was acting like a mother hen because of
her. While he was handing out warnings to everyone
else, what he really wanted to do was call Kasidy and
make sure she was okay. But things had been tricky
for them the past couple of weeks since she had
moved to the station. He was being careful not to
make any more assumptions, never forgetting that
one time when it had almost ended their relationship.
    Besides, Kasidy had made it very clear that she
could take care of herself. She was probably in one of
the cargo bays, assisting in setting up temporary
housing. They had already spoken once today, so why
did he have such a strong urge to call her, to see her
face, to tell her he was thinking about her...
    "Captain Sisko?" Kira asked over the intercom.
"We have the captain of that sightseeing liner. He's
protesting the fact that he can't close his aifiock to
keep the passengers out."
    "Put it through," Sisko sighed. As usual, work
called him away from Kasidy.

0

CHAPTER
       6

WORF TOLD HIMSELF to be patient as Odo repeated into
the comm, "All vessels that dock at DS9 must be
inspected. According to section eight, article fourre"
    "We did not ask to dock here," Sebas interrupted.
"You dragged us to this He'So~Igh!"
    "There is an emergency storm alert in effect," Odo
calmly replied. "If the Katon does not comply with
our regulations, we will be forced to notify the Kling-
on authorities."
    "Ha!" the Klingon spat. "The High Council will
hear of this, of that you can be sure!"
    Standing behind Odo, Worf folded his arms across
his chest, having resolved to remain silent until the
security chief exhausted the diplomatic and regulato-
ry methods of extracting the Klingons from the

Katon. Worf was pleased that he was not forced to
perform this charade, though it probably would have
ended much sooner had it been up to him.
    Sebas was apparently enjoying sparring with Odo,
though in Worf's opinion, the younger son of the
House of Napos wasn't very quick with his retorts.
Worf yawned broadly, a sign of contempt that he
allowed Sebas to see.
    The Klingon's hands clenched. "I will not speak
with Chap'on?
 "You just did," Worf pointed out.
 Sebas reached out as if to cut the transmission.
    Worf warned him, "Perhaps you will change your
mind when a laser welder cuts through your hull."
    "You would not dare," Sebas sneered. "Not the
warrior who runs from battle!"
    Worf stared at him without moving a muscle. Sebas
hesitated and Worf slightly bared his teeth at the
novice.
    "Please, gentlemen," Odo interrupted. "We can be
civil with one another. If you and your captain will
join us on the station, we can discuss this matterm"
    "Enough talk!" Sebas held up a thick finger, the
combat wristband shining a warning. "The Katon will
wait out the storm, then we continue on our way." He
snarled as if his words were final. He was young and
arrogant, secure in his House and his father's alliance
with Gowron. Worf almost envied the young upstart.
    Odo glanced over his shoulder as the transmission
ended. "So much for that. A waste of time, if you ask
me."

  Worf settled for saying, "I agree."
     "Did you get anything with the point-blank scans?"
 Odo asked.
     "Nothing unusual. However, essential systems are
 off line." He shook his head at the report from the
 security pods. "Some of the readings are distorted,
 perhaps indicating localized shielding."
    Odo examined the data. "That could be caused by
the emission waves."
    Woff frowned. "I have not ruled out that possi-
bility."
      "You don't have enough here to convince Sisko that
forced entry is necessary," Odo pointed out.  "I am aware of that fact."
    Odo glanced toward the airlock. "On the other
hand, Bajoran regulations give me some latitude with
regard to the methods that constitute forced entry.
Perhaps we can use a remote manipulator to trigger
the automatic opening sequence of their airlock."
Worf was unsettled. "You have done this before?"
Odo gave him a hard look. "When the alternative is
letting a Cardassian crew explode a Bajoran Resist-
ance smuggler, you learn how to bypass automatic
systems."
"I see. Of course, I welcome your assistance."
Odo inclined his head. 'Tll call for the equipment."
"Commander Worf?" One of the security guards
was motioning to a Starfleet officer waiting near the
turbolift. "It's Captain Iis of the Ceres, here to see
you."
 Ils came forward without waiting for Worf's per-

mission, slowly approaching the viewport showing
the Katon. She was looking much better, as if she had
washed, rested, and eaten. Now Worf could see that
she moved with the grace of a lifelong athlete. As with
many older humans, her face had fallen into comfort-
able, serene lines, and she defied vanity with her
close-cropped silver hair.
 Ils turned to Worf. "Is this the ship that attacked
US?"
    "We have insufficient data on their weapons sys-
tems," Worf reluctantly informed her. "They will not
open the airlock."
    Iis kept her eyes on the Katon. "I tried to speak to
the lieutenant about what she might have seen, but
she couldn't understand me. Dr. Bashir says she'll
have to be sent back to Andoria for intensive brain
treatment."
    Worf was unsure if she was making a deliberate
effort to suppress her emotions, or if the doctor had
given her a sedative. Probably the latter.
"I will discover the truth," Worf told the captain.
"Ah, yes, the truth." She kept staring through the
viewport. "Please tell me when you do. I'm sure there
are plenty of people who want to know the truth."
    Worf decided to stick with the safest answer. "Yes,
sir."
    Captain Iis looked at him intently. "Thank you for
being so valiant, Commander. I do want to know if
this ship was responsible. Yet even if it was, does that
explain why this happened?"
  "The Klingons have broken the peace treaty with

the Federation," Worf declared. "That is reason
enough for them to attack a Starfleet vessel."
      "Then you believe the Klingon Empire is prepared
to engage us in a full-scale war?"  "Yes."
    Iis sighed, her hands lightly clasped in front of her,
watching as Odo opened the panel to the locking
terminals. "Why?"
    Worf began to list the statistical increases in Kling-
on traffic and weapons manufacture, when Iis cut him
off. "What I meant is, why will the Klingons fight us?
They've got more territory than they can possibly
handle right now, and they're stretched to the limit
with the Cardassians. What do they hope to gain by
fighting Starfleet?"
    Worf briefly clenched his jaw. "Klingons want to
live as warriors."
    "So you're saying it's part of their character to
make war," Iis said thoughtfully. Then she almost
smiled. "I've never believed in theories of species-
determined behavior. If I did, then I would have to
believe that you, Commander, were as ruthlessly
violent as these Klingons appear to be. And I would
have to believe that your security chief," she added,
nodding to Odo, "is a devious shapeshifter intent on
the genocide of all humanoid lifeforms."
    Worf exchanged a look with Odo, wondering if the
chief felt as exposed as he did. He also remembered
Cali's taunt that Klingons were all alike, then tried to
put it from his mind.
 "No, Commander Worf," Iis finished with a sad

smile. "I don't believe in blaming genetics. We must
examine our own actions to determine how we
reached this terrible impasse with people who were
once our friends."
    "Perhaps," Worf felt compelled to agree. "Yet the
hostilities appear to be escalating. We can only pro-
tect ourselves."
    Iis shrugged as if she was too weary to argue the
philosophy of peace. Meanwhile Odo's security team
arrived, and the chief moved to the airlock, much to
his apparent relief.
    Worf knew he couldn't fight his own personal
demons with the captain. "I have arranged living
quarters for you," he offered by way of apology.
"Starfleet personnel have volunteered to share their
quarters with your crew for the duration of the
storm."
"Thank you, Commander. That is most kind."
Worf glanced over at Odo, but the amount of
equipment the team was unpacking revealed that it
would be a while before any progress was made with
the remote manipulators. "Allow me to escort you to
Commander Dax's quarters. She recently departed to
investigate the storm."
    "No. Give the quarters to my wounded so they can
leave the infirmary. I've ordered my senior staff to
remain on board the Ceres during the repairs." She
shook her head at his protest. "I know we may have to
close decks, but I'd like to make every effort not to
abandon ship. That is a matter of pride to my crew."

Worf admired the sentiment. "Very well, Captain."
Captain Iis was starting to leave when the red alert
klaxons went off. Her alarm indicated that she was
stretched to nearly the breaking point. Worf immedi-
ately accessed Ops.
    "Commander!" Kira exclaimed as if relieved to see
him. "We have a problem at dock eight. Those two
freighters that are tethered to the passenger liner--
we're losing one of them."
  "On viewscreen," Worf ordered.
    A cross view image appeared of a bulbous passen-
ger liner, its slender nose tucked into the docking ring.
The transport freighter next to it was moving, swing-
ing away from the liner toward the docking ring. As it
collided with the hull, he could feel the impact vibrate
down the docking pylon.
  "Tractors--" he started to say.
  "Wrong angle! The docking ring is in the way."
    "Prepare a runabout for emergency takeoff," Worf
ordered.
    "You can put a tractor on it from out there," Kira
agreed, keying in the command to prepare the run-
about. "Pad two will be ready when you get there.
O'Brien is trying to secure the freighter from inside
the docking ring."
    Odo approached the console. 'TI1 assist Chief
O'Brien. It will take some time to get through the
shielding of the Katon's hull."
    Worf nodded, casting a longing look at the portal.
"Keep me informed."

    Kira's impatience was clear. "If that freighter
breaks loose, it could hit the habitat ring--"
    "On my way," Worf acknowledged. He didn't need
anyone to remind him of his duty.

    Cali crouched against the curving side of the main-
tenance corridor, prepared to slip under the narrow
service crawlway if the technicians climbed to her
level. But the scraping sounds continued past in a
starboard direction toward the section where most of
the work was being done to secure the Bajoran
freighter.
    She was the last of her team to leave the area, and
she had been cut off when she turned back to reacti-
vate the security sensors in the maintenance access
junction. There would always be talk of possible
sabotage, but she preferred to leave no evidence
behind. Not when her members were in place, ready
to take over the contract from the damaged freighter.
That had been the trick--cutting one of the stasis
lines during a shock wave so the freighter would snap
like a whip. From the double impact, she figured the
port warp nacelle had been crushed.
    Now she needed to get out of this section before she
was discovered.
    "It shouldn't be long now." The male voice echoed
strangely through the corridor. "WorPs holding it
steady with the tractors."
    Cali had heard that voice ever since her members
had severed the stasis line. The technical response

had been much faster than they had expected, yet she
was the only one who hadn't gotten out in time. And
she didn't intend to let these bumbling techies beat
her at her own game.
    "I see you're using your ingenuity, Mister O'Brien.
I've never heard of a ship being secured in quite this
manner," another voice commented.
    Her hair rose in prickles up her spine as she
recognized that voice. Odo, chief of security. The
nosy shapechanger who had locked her in the brig for
no good reason.
    Still, she had been working on Captain Ali's deal,
agitating the Klingon Commander, so she had been
well compensated. And that hour in the brig had paid
off with the lead on this sweet deal. One of her cell
mates had been the purser of the now-damaged
freighter, and he had barely needed any coaxing to
give her the details of their next run. And blimenny,
was it a creampuffl. Carrying raw bulk chemicals to
the Rw'arez Sector. You couldn't get much further
away from the wormhole in one straight run, and
from there they could go almost anywhere.
    "We're still assessing the damage to the docking
ring," O'Brien was saying. "I'm going to have some-
one check the main supports in this section. But from
the looks of things, the freighter got the worst of it."
      "Tell me, Chief," Odo said seriously. "Have you
ever seen a stasis line snap like that?"
  "No, can't say that I have."
  Cali held her breath.
  "Neither have I," Odo agreed.

O'Brien sounded concerned. "What did you find on
the passenger liner?"
    "No one noticed anything unusual before or during
the time the stasis broke," Odo admitted. "And there
are no internal sensor logs."
    Cali was leaning so far forward that she risked
being seen through the open hatchway.
    "You're the detective," O'Brien tossed off. "But I
think anything's possible when there's this much
turbulence. Stasis lines do have tolerance limits. And
Major Kira says that a few vessels are reporting
problems with their airlock seals."
"Hmmm... perhaps you're right," Odo conceded.
Cali sat back grinning to herself.
"Now that you bring it up, I am worried about the
other ships that are tethered by stasis lines," O'Brien
added. "There were seven people injured inside the
freighter, and they were lucky they all weren't killed.
We're adding more lines to the other ships, but who
knows what could happen once the storm hits."
    "Perhaps we should recommend that the ships be
evacuated."
    "Some of them are docked safely," O'Brien pro-
tested, "but we probably should warn the vessels that
are at higher risk. After all, you don't want to flood
the station with a complete evacuation..."
    Cali strained to hear as the voices faded. "We might
have to find a way," Odo was saying. "If that storm is
as bad as they..."
    Cali listened for a moment longer, then took a
chance and slipped down the ladder, dropping into a

crouch in the main corridor of the docking ring.
Looking both ways, she stayed low as she ran in the
opposite direction from Odo and O'Brien.
    After the overwhelming response of the repair
crews, Call was expecting it to be a reat challenge to
get out of the section. But she easily ran the security
blockade, hardly needing the help of Theosi, who was
loyally positioned nearby. The diversion required that
only one of their members was detected by security,
and he was released with a slap on the wrist.
    Cali deployed her members ahead and behind,
running tandem with Theosi through the docking
ring. After all the deals she had pulled, there were
probably a dozen unofficial contracts out on her, and
any one of these stranded crew members could be
looking for just that sort of latinum. She would have
preferred to move through the service tunnels, but
that was one thing the shapeshifter was good at--you
could get in, but you couldn't travel between the
sections. Then again, it made sense for them to lock
the station down fairly tight. They were sitting on top
of the wormhole, like a nice, big, fat target. At least,
that's how Captain Ari put it.
    At the airlock to the Reaper, Cali got word that her
negotiation team had signed the contract for the
chemical transport. She was pleased. This deal had
gone smoothly from start to finish.
    She was allowed into the captain's lounge without
being announced. Not every senior mate could claim
that privilege.
  Despite her excitement, Cali slowed as she entered,

according the place the reverence it deserved. There
was nothing Klingon about the captain's lounge, with
its rounded walls and clear blue lighting--even the
smell of polllowers on a warm afternoon.
    Ari stayed seated, folding his data clip. He peered
up at her for a moment, then smiled. "So you've done
it again?"
    Cali answered with a laugh. "It worked exactly as I
planned."
    Ari's expression was both admiring and pleased,
without a trace of surprise, as if Cali's success was
nothing more than he expected. The other seniors
sometimes tried to advise her in her methods, as if
any of them had completed a fraction of her deals!
But Ari seldom presumed to offer advice. She had her
high position among the crew partly because it was
her inheritance, but also because the captain recog-
nized her abilities. Ari encouraged her to push herself,
agreeing that it was not her fault she was not talented
at the administrative details of the vessel. But what
did that matter, when her brilliant deals were begin-
ning to be talked about among the other members of
the Sattar Collective?
    "Name your bonus," Ari told her. "With a contract
this large, I presume you want a tithe."
    Cali shook her head. "I'll take an option on a deal
of my own."
    Ari was immediately intrigued. "Do you have any-
thing in mind?"
    "Not yet, but there's plenty of action around here.
We'll leave the terms open."

 "Short-term option," Ari countered.
    Cali shrugged. If she couldn't find anything of her
own before they left then she didn't deserve a longer
option. "Now I have a bonus for you," she told her
captain. "I heard the chief of operations talking about
the freighter. They believe it broke loose in the storm.
We'll probably get a warning to evacuate our ship."
    "Under galactic shipping codes, only the captain
can order the evacuation of his crew. That is, unless
the ship is improperly docked."
    "Well, that's what they said," Call insisted. "You
know Starfleet. Out to save the galaxy from itself."
    Ari pushed himself from the anti-grav chair and
paced to the port window, considering the informa-
tion. "Even if it's only a recommendation, it may be
enough..."
    Cali caught the scent of a deal in the air. She eagerly
watched the captain, waiting for him to indicate
whether he would ask her to join.
    When Ari turned, she knew the news would be
good.
    "I think it's time we visited Commander Worf," Ari
told her. "He has a debt of honor to repay to the
Sattar Collective."

0

CHAPTER
        7

DAX BELIEVED THAT one of the best ways to get to know
somebody was to go on a long shuttle trip with them.
She had figured that out while she was a cadet at
Starfleet Academy, where she had been introduced to
the concept of the two-person team.
    During the past few months, since she had resolved
things with Curzon, she was better able to appreciate
the fact that she had attended the academy simply as
Jadzia. After being kicked out of the Symbiont Insti-
tute on Trill, where the focus had been on generating
competition among the initiates, it was a joy learning
how to cooperate with others.
    "Nearing the storm front at ten thousand kilome-
ters," Dax announced. "How bad is that graviton
interference?"

    "It's holding steady now that the bleed has been
boosted," Keiko confirmed.
    Dax could already tell that Keiko was an competent
technician, their first flurry of stabilizer adjustments
had proved that, and her meticulous handling of Ops
indicated that she was a perfectionist. But Keiko
herself was still a mystery, not only to Dax but to a lot
of people on DS9. Maybe even to Chief O'Brien.
    "Leeta says you're going to be on the survey for
another few months," Dax commented. "How is it
going?"
    "Oh, we're making progress." When Dax made it
clear she was waiting for more, Keiko added, "Actu-
ally we're working so well together that Starfleet
expanded the survey to include the archipelago of the
southern continent. We're finding some rich calcium-
complex vegetation that grows in the wet climate
along the coast."
  "So you like being on Bajor."
     Keiko smiled at the non-question. "It's tough mov-
 ing around with the survey team, never in the same
 place for more than a few weeks. But the work itself is
 fascinating." Then she sighed. "I guess you can't have
 everything..."
  "Why not?" Dax asked.
     Keiko looked at her. "For one thing, it's physically
 impossible to be on the station and Bajor at the same
 time."
     Dax concentrated on the helm, letting Keiko's
 answer fall lightly into silence. She sympathized with
 Keiko's dilemma.

"Was Molly all right when you left her?" Dax
asked.
    "She'll be fine." Keiko acted as if leaving her was
perfectly natural, though Dax knew that mother and
daughter were seldom apart. "I activated the pony
program, even though I swore I'd make her wait until
tomorrow." She checked the chronometer. "It'll be
over soon, and then the nanny program can deal with
her. Miles doesn't know how lucky he is."
    "He didn't look so happy standing on the service
pad."
    Keiko shrugged. "You have to admit it happened
awfully fast. He was surprised, that's all."
    Dax grinned. "I'd say it was fast! He was still trying
to ask about radiation levels when you shut the hatch
in his face."
    Keiko looked uncomfortable, as if her mask had
slipped. Dax remembered the way she had stared at
the image of O'Brien on the viewscreen as the Rubi-
con rose to the launch padd. The chief kept waving
until they were out of sight. Only then had Keiko
taken a deep breath and returned to the launch
sequence.
    "I wonder how they're doing with that freighter,"
Keiko said.
    Dax checked the station logs. "It's been secured.
But Captain Sisko has issued an evacuation recom-
mendation to all vessels below class two, due to the
turbulence."
    Keiko's eyes widened. "I thought there were no
more quarters available on the station."

    "There aren't." Dax frowned over the sensor data,
as the runabout shook from the emission waves. "If
the shock waves are this bad out here, what about the
turbulence within the storm?"
    Keiko glanced at the viewscreen. The pure, velvety
black mass blocked out most of the starfield, but the
leading edge was defined by veins of flashing energy
discharge, marking the point where the plasma en-
countered normal space matter.
    "Slowing to half impulse," Dax said. "The shock
waves are getting stronger."
    "Sensors are calibrated," Keiko confirmed. "The
link to the biometric program is engaged. We're
getting additional data on a wide range of Doppler
shifts."
     Dax prepared a burst transmission to send the new
 data back to the station. Communications would
 probably be lost once they were inside the storm.
     "This close," Dax said thoughtfully. "I thought we
 would encounter line and recombination radiation.
 Even with a reflection level as low as one percent we
 should be getting something on the interior of the
 storm."
     "There are those energy discharges along the edge,"
 Keiko indicated. "The filaments are being spectrally
 recorded, but we have no background comparison
 with the main body of the plasma mass."
     "So we can't tell if particles are being excited or
 emitted."
 "It's an ideal blackbody," Keiko agreed. "Rates of

absorption and emission are the same. I wonder
what's happening inside."
    "My guess is that it's rotating on its own axis," Dax
told her.
    Keiko widened her eyes. "I didn't think plasma did
that in a natural vacuum."
    "Why else can't we get a fix on the wavelength
angles?" Dax had finally thrown out Planck's law after
wrestling with that impossible variable for most of the
afternoon, trying to phase the momentum with value
of energy release. "This isn't getting us anywhere. The
spectroscopic analysis is giving us the same readings
on the emissions that we got on the station: helium,
carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, sulfur, calcium."
    "It's the bulk of the interior elements we need to
determine," Keiko agreed.
    "All right, here we go," Dax announced. "Electro-
static field engaged."
    "Spectral index is well within parameters," Keiko
confirmed. "Both waves and particles are being pola-
rized away from the runabout."
 "Prepare to enter the plasma field."
    Dax maneuvered the runabout in a vector that
would sharply intersect the edge of the storm. She
didn't want to risk deflection, unsure what effect that
impact would have on the hull. She was also con-
cerned about what might be concealed within the
plasma. An ideal blackbody was theoretically impos-
sible without a source of stabilized electric discharge.
There was a distinct possibility that a comet-like

pulsar or neutron star was at the heart of the storm,
and if so, then the gravitational forces could easily
overpower the runabout once they entered.
    Dax glanced at Keiko, wondering if she should
share that nasty piece of information. She had in-
cluded it in the burst transmission to DS9 because the
station needed to be warned of the possibility. But it
was too late for them to turn back now.
    "Sensors at maximum sensitivity," Keiko an-
nounced. "Prepared for entry."
    "You know," Dax said, "there is a chance the hull
could be crushed by the internal turbulence."
    Keiko held her gaze. "If the storm is that strong,
then the station won't be able to withstand the
pressure either. We need to find out."
     "You're right about that. I'm taking us in." Dax hit
 the thrusters and held on.
     But the runabout penetrated the storm without a
 shudder. Helm control remained steady, while navi-
 gational orientation began to swing aimlessly around
 the chart, as if searching for some verifiable indicator
 to establish their position. Sensors were unable to
 penetrate the border of the storm.
     Keiko switched the viewscreen to spectral-visual.
 "Look at that..."
     Inside the blackbody, the plasma was alive. Con-
 stant re-ionization released photoconductive elec-
 trons, creating spectral colors within, and even
 beyond, humanoid sight. Other complex optical ef-
 fects produced brilliant fluorescent streaks and lumi-

nescent flickers of light that twisted and swirled
together in the hydrodynamic currents.
    Dax slowed the runabout and released a dye marker
to give their sensors a ground point. At first she was
unsure if they were moving, then she realized the
marker was cruising along at about the same speed
they were.
    She altered their course, concerned about the power
spikes as particles and waves struck their electrostatic
shields. She reminded herself to watch the relays to
make sure the circuits didn't overload.
    "I've narrowed the range on the sensors," Keiko
announced. "But the interference is still too great to
get anything beyond the most rudimentary readings."
    "That's plasma for you," Dax said philosophically.
"We need to isolate our targets."
    Using the molecular beam, she released gas parti-
cles into the plasma. The computer would track the
progress of their collisions and decomposition into
charged electrons and photons.
    "Keep an eye on the ternary collisions," Dax told
Keiko, indicating the correct equation sequence. "Let
me know if the cluster integrals get any larger."
 "They already have," Keiko immediately replied.
    "That fast?" Dax asked, having a look for herself.
"This is some plasma storm."
    She carefully recorded the thruster action against
the movement of the released particles. They revealed
an approximate reading of both longitudinal and
transverse waves within the plasma, though the split-

ting of Alfven waves was recorded to the detriment of
other variables, filling their data banks with random
frequencies.
    "Well, according to the gas particles, the plasma is
rotating as a mass." Dax was glad to finally confirm
one of her hunches about the storm. "It must be
releasing huge amounts of rotational energy, approxi-
mately ten to the sixty-seventh power ergs per second.
That's what supplies the relativistic particles and
magnetic fields to sustain the storm."
  "It's building on itself," Keiko realized.
    "That's right, it's picking up particles through
inverse Compton scattering. That keeps it moving in
a steady vector." Dax returned to her readings. 'Tll
see if I can determine the oscillation distribution of
the waves. That might give us a base frequency we can
work with, but we'll need to isolate a sample of the
plasma."
     "How do you do that with charged particles that are
 in a constant state of flux?" Keiko asked.
     "Usually we'd use the EGD converter. But the
 plasma is so dense that our power systems can't create
 a high enough electric field to contain the stuff." Dax
 grimly shook her head. "Maybe we should have
 brought the Defiant after all."
     "Is there any other way to get a sample?" Keiko
 asked.
 "Well, we could try a plasma trap," Dax decided.
 She spent some time attempting to draw a sample
 of the plasma into a ring-shaped magnetic field.
 Despite the high temperatures of the trap, contain-

 ment of the dense plasma was limited to fractions of
 microseconds. A bulge kept forming along the lateral
 surface, instantaneously extending tongues of plasma
 within the trap and disappearing on contact with the
 container walls.
     "It's too unstable," Dax said. "Maybe I can create
 an open trap using two magnetic mirrors. That might
 contain the plasma long enough to get a sensor scan
 on it."
  "Anything I can do?" Keiko asked.
    "In a minute," Dax told her. "Let me just set this
up."
    Keiko got up to pace in the back of the runabout
until Dax called her to return to the sensors.
    "I'm establishing the trap in a vacuum field just
outside the starboard hull. Look for patterns," Dax
told her, ready to grasp at any straw. "Check number
densities, temperatures, electric, and magnetic field
strengths. We mainly need to determine the trajectory
of relative particles."
    "The ratio of negative and positive charges per unit
volume are fairly equal," Keiko offered. "Though the
numbers keep shifting."
    "That's typical in high-density plasmas." Dax was
preoccupied with the phase ratios. "That's why we get
macroscopic readings rather than the motion of indi-
vidual particles."
    Keiko sighed and sat back in her chair. "Maybe I
shouldn't have tried so hard to convince Captain
Sisko to let me come. I'm not being much help."
 "This isn't your part of the mission," Dax pointed

out. "It's mine, and I haven't been very successful.
You're here because you're the most qualified person
to analyze the data once I've gotten it."
    Keiko let out an exasperated sound. "Then why did
I have to fight so hard to get the captain's permis-
sion?"
    "Benjamin was just worried about Molly," Dax
tried to explain.
    "Oh, I don't blame him for asking about Molly.
How could he ignore her when she was practically
jumping up and down on his feet?" Keiko turned to
Dax. "But what does Miles have to do with it? I mean,
really. Does anyone call and ask me how I feel every
time he crawls into a fusion generator?"
    "No..." Dax hesitated, but it needed to be said.
"Try to look at it from Captain Sisko's perspective.
After all, he did lose his wife during a mission."
    Keiko returned to her console. "That's true. Don't
mind me, I've been like this ever since I left Bajor. I
hate to be interrupted when I'm in the middle of a
project."
    "Well, then, let's get on with this one," Dax said,
smoothing things over. "I'm taking us in deeper."
    She engaged thrusters. Temperatures rose as the
plasma became denser.
 "Here's something," Keiko said. "Helix patterns."
 "Where?" Dax demanded. She examined the read-
 ings. "Magnetic lines of force. That's consistent with
 synchronic radiation but..."  "But what?"
  "Look at the total heat flux. And the thermal energy

transported within the unit area. It's building, as if
there's some other factor acting on the--"
    The Rubicon lurched and a blinding flash of light
shorted the viewscreen. Dax squeezed her eyes shut,
covering her face with her hands.
     Even when the emergency lights came on, she could
barely see through the red spots in her vision.
  "Computer is off line!" Keiko exclaimed.
    Dax didn't breathe until the indicator signaled that
the computer core was powering up again.
    "Electrostatic field remains intact," Keiko added
breathlessly.
    That was exactly what Dax wanted to hear. The
interior support systems came back on as indicators
returned to normal--except for the viewscreen. She
would have to replace the circuit buffer first and
increase the repulsion of the electrostatic guard to
keep the same thing from happening again. "What was that?" Keiko asked.
    "I'm not sure. But look. The sensors recorded the
entire electromagnetic frequency range for the dura-
tion of the burst."
    "Finally!" Keiko exclaimed. "That gives us the data
we need to run a comparison against the biometric
models."
    Dax wasn't as pleased as Keiko. She wanted to
know exactly what had happened. She slowed the
sensor logs and saw what she had been dreading: fifty
nanoseconds before the burst of light, a faint lumi-
nous current on the order of several hundred thou-
sand amperes had created a stepped leader between

the runabout and the plasma. The runabout acted as
the ground, releasing an outward discharge, short-
circuiting the plasma that was in magnetic flux
around them. The white flash had been just one of the
secondary results.
    "There was a direct energy discharge between the
plasma and the runabout," she told Keiko.
    "[ thought the electrostatic field would prevent
that."
    "Apparently the magnetic currents are strong
enough to override our power systems." Dax consid-
ered the readings. "In fact, there's no way we can
compensate for the reaction unless we completely
shut off the shields. And the radiation levels make
that impossible."
    "If the runabout can destabilize the plasma, what
will the station do to it?" Keiko asked. "Will the
shields hold?"
    "It's not just the station. What about the worm-
hole?" Dax countered.
    "They might both act as electrodes," Keiko real-
ized. "That would mean--'*
 "A plasma arc as big as Bajor."
    "With everything in between instantly ionized." A
flicker of her eyes betrayed her immediate thought of
Molly. "We have to get back to the station to warn
them. Everyone should be evacuated."
    Dax was already activating the helm. "Impact with
the magnetic currents could burn out the wormhole
permanently. Or the plasma could be caught in its

gravitational flux, which means the entire system
would be covered by a self-generating plasma storm
for the next few centuries."
 "Bajor," Keiko whispered.
    Dax couldn't understand the navigational sequence
that she was getting. "We must have been thrown
some distance by the discharge."
    Keiko could tell something was wrong. Dax
couldn't find the dye marker, and the angle of the
transverse waves had altered.
    "That wasn't just a magnetic field we ran into,"
Dax finally concluded. "The currents are being
twisted into loops by the cyclonic turbulence. We've
been transported deep inside the storm. I'm not even
sure where we are."
    "We couldn't have gone far," Keiko protested. "It
lasted less than a second."
    "I don't know. A reaction like that, involving high-
intensity heat conduction and Coriolis forces from
the rotation--it could have produced space-time var-
iances within the magnetic loop."
    Keiko was also checking the rudimentary readings
of the sensors. "Particle and wave density are much
higher in this area. And there's no sign of the dye
marker or the gas particles we released."
    "From tile number of magnetic currents, I'd say we
were much closer to the center of the storm."
    "That can't be true!" Keiko insisted. "That would
be faster than light--"
 "Theory of relativity? You might as well forget

about that. Our time scale depends on our frame of
reference. Inside the blackbody, our only reference is
this highly charged, high-temperature energy matter."
    "But the storm covers nearly half a sector!" Keiko
looked as though she didn't know which way to turn.
"It could take us a week to cross it at impulse."
    "If we could figure out which way to go." Dax
watched the particles perform their colored dance,
flashing as if they were laughing at the runabout.
"What are we going to do?" Keiko finally asked.
"We're going to have to find a quicker way out of
here. Unless you're willing to let a plasma storm get
the better of us?"
  Keiko's eyes flashed in return. "Never!"
  Dax took a deep breath. "Then let's get to work."

0

CHAPTER
       8

AFTER THE FREIGHTER was secured and Worf returned
the runabout to the service pad, he made his way to
his quarters. Even when the door shut on the evacuees
who filled the corridor, he continued to feel stifled by
the invasive grip of the station. He had been content
while piloting the runabout, despite tile adverse con-
ditions, yet he did not realize it until he returned...
here. He could hardly call it home.
    As soon as he entered, he sat down at the computer.
"Worf to Odo. What is your status?" During the
tediously long time it had taken to secure the freight-
er, he had received regular reports from the techni-
cians on their lack of success in deactivating the
Katon's airlock system.
 Odo replied by audio only. "Things are proceeding

normally, Commander. The initial security bypass
systems have been accessed."
 "When will the airlock be opened?"
    "We aren't changing an air filter, Commander.
These are complex mechanical and security over-
rides. I remember one time it took more than twenty-
two hours." Odo paused to make himself clear. "But
you can rest assured. That lock will open."
  "Understood."
"Good. Then let me get back to my business."
Worf did not bother to reply, cutting the transmis-
sion at Odo's request. He saw it as yet another
example of everyone's lack of concern about the
Klingon aggression. He was the only one who realized
that time was running out.
    He signaled the Katon. When they were slow to
respond, he signaled them again.
    While he waited for a response, he put in a replica-
tor order. The computer indicated that there would
be a delay before the food would be delivered. He had
considered stopping by the replimat sometime during
the afternoon, but he loathed the place. Its generic
decor and nameless hordes were almost as bad as
Quark's Bar.
    Digging through transport containers that were
piled in his closet, he finally found a bottle of
Hum'taS. It was a favorite Klingon drink, a sticky,
honey-based liquid that imparted a boost of energy.
Deanna had brought it for him when she had returned
from a week-long diplomatic junket on one of the
Empire colonies. He wasn't sure if the gift had been

meant as a joke, but to be prudent he had refrained
from telling her that the stuff put his teeth on edge.
    Now he was glad to have it. He took a long swig
directly from the narrow neck, shuddering as he
swallowed.
    He went to the sink and splashed some water on his
tender eyes, and managed to get down half the bottle
by the time the Katon finally responded. He almost
choked in his haste, but he made it to his desk without
spitting the Hum'taS down the front of his uniform.
Despite his wash, it felt like the stuff was stuck to his
loch, and somehow his sash had slipped askew.
    But Captain Alons looked even worse. In fact, the
change was alarming. His heavy uniform was un-
hooked and swinging open--unthinkable for a Kling-
on seated in the command chair. His eyes were tiny
red slits and his brow ridges were running with sweat.
It took a lot to make a Klingon sweat.
    Alons was slumped and looking off to one side as if
unaware that he had activated visuals. "What is it?"
he demanded impatiently.
    "This is to inform you that the turbulence from the
storm is making it hazardous for your crew to remain
on board."
 "Yes, yes. We received the warning. What of it?"
    Worf offered, "Temporary quarters for you and
your crew--"
    Alons suddenly realized exactly who he was speak-
ing to. He leaned forward, unsteady in his focus on
the viewer. "You! You can do nothing for me."
 Worf was compelled to maintain an attitude of

109

civility and cooperation, much as he wanted to reach
through the viewer and grab Alons by the throat to
choke some of the arrogance out of him.
    "Captain Alons, you appear to be ill," Worf said
reasonably. "Perhaps you are unable to judge the
seriousness of this warning."
    "Enough!" Alons slammed his hand on the arm of
the chair. His head was shaking with the effort. "I will
not listen to the lies of Qu'vatlh!"
    The viewer returned to the blue Starfleet symbol.
Worf restrained himself from hailing the Katon again.
Alons would never cooperate with him, that much
was clear.
    Worf sent a copy of the conversation to Dr. Bashir,
requesting his medical opinion on Alons's condition.
Perhaps the captain had simply been called away in
the middle of a bat'leth match, and yet, if Alons was
unfit, Worf might be able to use that to get permission
to board the Katon.
    He was pulling off his uniform when the door
signaled. He paused, the sash over his head. "Who is
it?"
    "Captain Ari, of the Reaper," was the courteous
reply.
    Worf pulled his sash back on, settling it before
saying, "Come in."
    The door opened, letting in two Sattar. Cali re-
turned his dubious look while Captain Ari introduced
himself. The captain was short even for a Sattar, and
only the darkened fuzz around his nose and eyes
indicated his age.

    "We apologize for disturbing you in your quarters,"
Captain Ari said. His voice was surprisingly sonorous
for such a small creature.
    Worf grunted an acknowledgement, distracted by
his effort to keep Cali in view as she began roaming
around the room, frankly examining the few posses-
sions he had unpacked.
    Captain Ari ignored his senior mate. "I felt it was
high time we met, Commander Worf. This situation
has remained unresolved for long enough."
    Worf shifted as Cali moved behind him. She paused
next to the replicator, and pointedly met his eyes.
    "The replicator is malfunctioning," Worf said.
When she glanced at the open bottle on his desk, he
grudgingly told the captain, "However I can offer you
Hum 'taS. "
    "Thank you," Ari accepted, taking a seat in the best
chair. That is, Worf assumed it was the best chair
since the senior Sattar had chosen it. He had not spent
enough time in his new quarters to determine that for
himself.
    He grabbed the bottle, then glanced around, realiz-
ing that he had no containers for the liquid. He
usually ordered serviceware from the replicator.
  "There are no cups," he admitted.
    Cali's short laugh was insulting. His lip curled as he
stared her down.
    Ari simply held out his hand for the bottle. 'TII join
you, Commander. That is, if you don't mind."
    Worf gave it to him, astonished. He never expected
a Sattar to be so familiar with a Klingon.

t10                                                              111

    Ari lifted the bottle and took a hefty swig, respect-
able even for a Klingon. Cali watched the captain with
an expression of fascinated repulsion, while Worf
reassessed the elder Sattar. This one is not bound by
the conceits of his own people.
    Ari's eyes flashed back at Worf, an unexpected
moment of accord. "Join me for a moment, Com-
mander."
    Worf hesitated to sit down while Cali was searching
his quarters. Without a word, Ari understood. He
motioned with his head and Cali returned to lean on
the back of his chair. She was facing away, as if
uninterested in what they had to say. But Worf
noticed that she kept a cautious eye on him as he sat
down across from Ari.
    The captain didn't waste words. "You have placed
us in a terrible bind, Commander Worf. By delaying
our clearance, you have caused us to lose our contract
in the Gamma Quadrant."
    Worf was not going to discuss his investigation of
the attack on the Ceres. Not when the Katon situation
remained unresolved. "The delay was unavoidable."
    "Perhaps we differ on that point." Ari raised one
hand as if to stop Worf from arguing. Worf noticed
there were tiny swirls of fur even on the Sattar's palm.
"I will say no more about it," Ari continued. "Howev-
er I would like to ask you to do us a favor."
    Worf immediately stiffened. "Is that... black-
mail?"
    "Commander Worfl" Ari protested, laughing.
"Please don't misunderstand me. I simply came here

to ask you for a personal favor. Your captain has sent
us a warning to evacuate my crew to the station, yet I
find I'm in the unenviable position of having nowhere
to go."
    "Major Kira is supervising the arrangements for
temporary quarters."
    Ari wrinkled his nose. "Please, Commander. Those
cargo bays are fine for my members, but you must
take into account the ways of the Sattar Collective. A
captain's status is maintained through a strict hierar-
chy. You examined my ship, you saw the levels of
accommodations. For me to be thrown together with
not only my members, but among others, the lowest
crews of alien vessels... well, it just wouldn't do."
    "I see." But Worf did not see what this had to do
with him.
    "Breaking our social codes could disrupt the entire
fabric of my command. And I'm sure Starfleet didn't
intend to violate our cultural dictates with their
evacuation order."
    "Of course not," Worf said. "The evacuation warn-
ing is not mandatory. You may remain on board your
vessel if you wish."
    Captain Ari leaned back, glancing up at Cali. She
was glaring at Worf as if resenting the suggestion.
    "I believe you once thought my transport was
capable of great feats," Ari said quietly. "But if any
vessel is likely to buckle under the forces of the
plasma storm, I'm afraid it's the Reaper. No, Com-
mander, I do not wish to stay on board while that
happens."

    "No, of course not," Worf repeated, at a loss.
"However I do not know how I can assist you."
 "This will do quite well," Ari said, as if satisfied.
 "What will?" Worf asked.
    "This." Ari gestured to the room. "Your quarters. If
you allow me to remain here tonight, I would be most
appreciative."
Worf drew back. "Here? You want to stay here?"
"I believe most of the personnel on the station are
sharing their quarters with evacuees, is that not
correct?"
    "Yes." Worf blinked for a moment. "That ismYes,
you may stay here."
    He thoroughly disliked it, but he saw no other
option. He should have offered his quarters to the
crew of the Ceres, except he had difficultly thinking of
these Cardassian rooms as his. He almost longed for
the bare cell in the monastery on Boreth.
    The replicatot chimed and a thick slice of rokeg
blood pie appeared.
    "Malfunctioning, huh?" Cali smoldered, as if she
disliked the situation as much as he did.
    "Yes." His visions of a relaxing meal disappeared.
He wondered if Cali was staying here tonight as well.
Awkwardly, he stood up, unsure of what to do next.
    Captain Ari smiled and waved a dismissive hand at
him. "Don't mind us, Commander. Just go about
your business."
    "Yes." Worf wished he could think of something
better to say.

    "We would like something to eat," Cali said point-
edly.
    Worf was saved from answering by the flashing
yellow alert. Since he was not summoned, he knew it
had nothing to do with security.
    Nevertheless, he used his clearance code to access
Ops, shifting to block the viewer when Cali tried to
see what was happening. There was a power conduit
failure in the lower core and O'Brien had ordered an
emergency shutdown of the aft generator.
    That would leave only one generator to create
power for the station. "Worf to O'Brien."
    "I could use your help, Worf," O'Brien replied
shortly, sounding as if he was running. "Can you meet
me in the lower core?"
    Worf acknowledged. He stood up, then hesitated,
ordering, "Computer, allow Captain Ari access to my
quarters."
    As the computer confirmed the order, Ari gave
Worf a quizzical look. "Thank you, Commander."
    Worf did not care about anything in his quarters, or
about the place itself, for that matter. But as he
reached the door, he did glance back at the tempting
slice of blood pie.
     Cali noticed and immediately returned to the repli-
cator. "Ro ~egh'Iwchab! How thoughtful of you."
  She picked up the plate, smiling.
    Worf left. He had the distinct feeling that she had
gotten the better of him.

:g ,ic

    When O'Brien reached the main grid of the power
plant, he knew he had a bigger problem than he had
first thought.
    His technicians were taking the aft fusion reactor
off line and being extremely cautious, to boot. The
containment of the silicon-sodium reaction was al-
ways difficult at the best of times.
    But the real problem now was the power conduit
leading to crossover bridge two. The wave guides had
been disrupted from their alignment, and the power
bleed was wedging open the distribution amplifier.
    "We aren't going to be able to shut down the power
stream until that amplifier outlet is closed," O'Brien
reminded the technicians.
    Lieutenant Kelly replied for both the Bajoran su-
pernumeraries and Starfleet personnel. "We're trying
to reroute the bleed by closing an upper junction
node."
    "Keep me informed," O'Brien ordered. They had
all been working since morning and were more than
ready for the shift change, yet he didn't hear a
grumble among them.
    He was reading the grid as he said, "O'Brien to
Sisko."
 "Sisko, here. What's your status, Chief?."
    "Once the reactor is down, it won't take more than
a couple of hours to recalibrate the wave guides in
conduit two."
    "Will one reactor provide enough power during
that time?" Sisko asked.
 "Well, we're running shields at maximum. I recom-

mend we cut power to nonessential systems. We don't
know how much we'll need once the storm hits."
 "Very well," Sisko said.
    O'Brien resisted the temptation to ask if they had
heard from the Rubicon. "Oh, and you better shut the
airlocks to the connecting tunnel. There's a jammed
power bleed that could be leaking free radicals."
    Kira suddenly spoke up, "We have reports that
there are evacuees camped in all three crossover
bridges--"
    "You mean there are people in there? Just sitting in
there?" O'Brien clutched his hair with one hand.
"You've got to get them out!"
    Worf approached the power grid. "May I assist,
Chief?."
    "Yes! Quick--clear everyone out of the second
tunnel," O'Brien ordered. "And wear stasis belts.
There's radiation leakage. And seal the airlocks!" he
called after Worf, as the Klingon rapidly strode to-
ward the turbolift, giving orders through his corem
badge.
    O'Brien reached for a tool kit as he hit his own
badge. "Kira, transport me to the main junction
node. If I don't get that amplifier shut, those people
will be fried."
 "Ready to energize," Kira confirmed.
    The power plant dissolved into a golden glow as he
was caught in the familiar grip of the transporter
beam. At the last second he panicked, afraid that the
transporter buffers weren't any better shielded than
the power conduit. If there was significant interfer-

ence from the emission waves, he could end up as part
of the storm.
    But he rematerialized safely on the narrow plat~
form outside the maintenance tunnel. He rapidly
tapped in his code, but the door didn't budge. The
emergency shutdown sequence for the reactor had
sealed the access because of excessive radiation
leakage.
    Out of habit, O'Brien glanced up. "Kira, I want you
to find Rom. Tell him I need him here now. You can
transport him to my signal--"
  "Quark is answering," Kira interrupted.
      "You tell him that if he doesn't send Rom down
here now, I'll have him up on charges of murder."
  "Understood," Kira acknowledged.
    O'Brien took one breath and then another. "Come
on, come on," he muttered.
    The distortion of a transporter beam appeared next
to him. Rom materialized, hunched over and looking
worried. O'Brien could only imagine what Quark had
been saying to his brother as he dematerialized.
  "Hi there, Chief--" Rom started to say.
    "Open this door) You have ten seconds." O'Brien
ripped off the top of the access panel to the sealed
door.
    "What?" Slack jawed, Rom looked from him to the
exposed circuitry. "Why don't you use your security
bypass?"
    "That would take two minutes. And you only have
five seconds left."
 Rom leaped for the panel, grabbing an isolinear

manipulator from O'Brien in mid air. When he bent
over the circuitry he was a changed man, with every
meticulous motion steady.
    Since he seemed to work well under pressure,
O'Brien warned him, "Three seconds."
    He never imagined that Rom could do it. He had
just been babbling off the top of his head to get the
Ferengi moving, but as the word "one" hit his lips, the
door slid open.
  Rom was panting, his mouth hanging open.
  O'Brien stared at him in shock. "You did it!"
    "You said you wanted it open," Rom reminded
him.
    "Amazing! And you don't even know it." O'Brien
pushed past Rom, ducking to enter the low mainte-
nance tunnel.
    But he immediately bumped into a hanging obsta-
cle. Trying to see, he realized an entire Temmorian
pod had slung their hammocks in the tunnel between
him and the manual seal.
    "What are you doing in here) Get out of here, you
understand? Out!" He started crawling under them,
wincing at the squeals of surprise as they jumped
from their hammocks, getting in his way even more.
 "Move it!" he roared. "This is an emergency!"
 They obligingly tried to get out of his way, but
 O'Brien kept bumping into them, even stepping on
 them, and he was afraid he'd killed a few by the time
 he reached the amplifier. He groaned as he tried to
 turn the wheel. Throwing his entire weight into it, he
 felt something strain in his back as it finally shifted.

The amplifier made horrible creaking and screeching
noises as he manually tightened the valve. Then he
gave it an extra tug to make sure it was clamped shut.
    Falling back against the curved wall, he tapped his
comm badge. "Manual seal is in place. You can take
the reactor off line."
    "Confirmed," Lieutenant Kelly answered. "Con-
duit two is sealed."
    O'Brien drew back from a sleepy Temmorian who
peered close into his face. They didn't have the best
eyesight.
    "You have to leave the serviceway," he told the
closest ones. An entire pod, babies and all, sleeping in
the maintenance tunnel leading to the fusion genera-
tor. Bloody Hell. Don't people know how to take care of
their kidsw
  "Good God--Molly{" he exclaimed.
    Several Temmorians flinched, but he starting push-
ing his way back through them. If power was shut
down to nonessential systems that meant Quark's
holosuites would be turned off. That meant Molly was
locked in a tiny room with gridded walls, probably
crying her eyes out.
  "Make way!" he yelled, speeding up.
    He catapulted through the access door, barely
breaking stride as he ran over Rom. "Get them out of
there? he ordered over his shoulder as he bolted
toward the turbolift.
    "Aye, aye, sir!" Rom sang out, obviously quite
pleased to be given the responsibility.
  Later, O'Brien had time to wonder exactly how long

 it had taken him to reach Quark's from the lower
 core. He was sure he would never be able to beat his
 time, but while it was happening it felt like an eternity
 was passing as he shoved his way through the evacu-
 ees, ordering everyone to stand aside, yelling out that
 it was an emergency.
     Quark's was even more crowded than the Prome-
 nade, and O'Brien had the odd sensation that his own
 living room had suddenly been overrun by strangers.
 Quark's always had its fair share of transient business,
 but this was entirely different. The chief didn't recog-
 nize anyone except for the harried staff.
    Then he caught sight of Morn, precariously perched
on a stool in the corner below the stairs and looking
very unhappy. Apparently loyalty to your regular
customers wasn't high on the list of the Ferengi Rules
of Acquisition.
      When he keyed open the lock on the holosuite,
Molly was crying just as he had expected.  "Why, Daddy? Why?" she kept asking.
    He picked her up, trying to explain. "We needed the
power for lights and food."
    "But why, Daddy? Why didn't you come? I called
and called." She was crying as if she would never stop.
"I want my mommy!"
    "Hey, Molly, honey, I'm here nowo It's okay." He
held her and rocked her and tried to soothe her. "I did
come for you."
 "I called and called," she insisted.
    He felt inordinately guilty, and directly responsible.
After all, it had been his order to cut nonessential

power. But Molly relaxed, letting her head fall on his
shoulder. She was still crying, but the frantic edge was
gone.
    Not that anyone in Quark's would notice a crying
baby. O'Brien carried Molly down from the mezza-
nine and started pushing through the crowd. You'd
think people would see the child and move aside for
him, but they were obviously having too much fun to
actually open their eyes and look around.
    "Hey! Back off there, buddy!" O'Brien ordered a
particularly wobbly Bajoran.
    From out of nowhere Quark appeared. "Stop push-
ing my customers around, O'Brien. And where's that
brother of mine? You have to send him back, I need
him here."
    "Doesn't this place have a capacity rating?"
O'Brien shot back. "This many people can't be safe."
    Quark looked smug. "If I'm right, this entire station
is over its capacity. Starfleet can't point any fingers at
me." He sighed. "Business has never been better."
    "I've heard what you're doing," O'Brien told him.
"You're charging three times the regular price for
everything."
    "Supply and demand," Quark said, holding out his
hands as if he didn't make the rules. "I charge what
the market can bear."
    "You mean you fleece the customers for all they're
worth."
     "Whatever." Quark leaned in conspiratorially.
 "See what you can do about getting the power to the

 holosuites back on. I'm losing latinum as we speak."
 He gestured with his chin to Molly. 'TI1 let you keep
 using one of them for the kid."
    O'Brien wouldn't compromise the safety of the
power grid, even for Molly. "Is Leeta here? I want her
to watch Molly for me."
    "She's here and here she stays," Quark retorted.
"You can get away with that 'life or death' excuse to
take one of my employees, but you can't take two.
That would kill me."
    "But she's the only one I can trust who isn't on
duty," O'Brien protested, keeping his voice low, try-
ing to keep from disturbing Molly. She was limp and
had finally stopped crying.
    "Leeta is on duty." Quark pointed. "See, she's
spinning the wheel for my customers, while lots of
other customers are waiting their turn. I need more
help around here, O'Brien, not less."
    "Fine! Now what am I supposed to do?" O'Brien
patted Molly's back, trying to think.
    "Leave her on the bar," Quark shrugged. "Some-
body's bound to look after her."
    A passing Risan woman overheard and she lurched
in closer, exclaiming over Molly. "How sweet! If
you're giving her away, I'll take care of her."
    A man tugged at the Risan's arm, stopping to give
Molly a cursory glance. "Take her if you want. Only
let's get back to the tables."
    Molly chose that moment to raise her head. "I'm
Mol-ee. What's your name?"

123

 "Oooo," the Risan cooed. "I love her."
    "There you go," Quark said, as if that settled it.
"But you better get those holosuites back on."
    O'Brien turned, pulling Molly away from the reach-
ing hands of the Risan. "Thanks so much, but we have
to go now."
    "Please," the woman wheedled with practiced
charm. "Just for a minute. I only want to hold her."
    "No, sorry, we're very late. Thank you. Good-bye."
O'Brien got away from her as fast as he could, pushing
through the crowd as she gave a halfhearted pursuit.
    The security office was just across the Promenade.
O'Brien joined the streaming crowds, plotting a
course that would get him there with a minimum of
fuss. Every piece of floor space was taken, with only
narrow aisles left between the people who were sit-
ting, lying down, piled together, all watching each
other. Up above, the mezzanine was lined with a
mixed assortment of humanoids, each staking out
territory in his own way. Several Marlkins were even
perched on the railing, kicking their heels as O'Brien
passed underneath.
    Molly cringed at the echoing noise, covering her
ears. It was terrible even with full baffles engaged, and
he could tell the air quality was high on carbon
dioxide. He reminded himself to adjust the exchange
rate as soon as he got back to Ops.
    He hugged Molly closer, protecting her from the
jostling, until he finally reached security.
  Odo's office was busy with security teams, both

 Bajoran and Startleet. O'Brien was glad to see that
 Odo was there, apparently unflustered by the activity.
 He set Molly down on the chair in front of the desk,
 ignoring the constable's sharp look.
      "You curl up here, honey," he told Molly. "I'11 be
back soon to take you home."  "Excuse me?" Odo asked.
  "I want to go with you," Molly protested.
    "Be a good girl for Daddy," he told his daughter,
hoping Odo would get the message. "I've got to run
around and do a few more things before we can both
go home. Will you promise to stay right here?"
    Molly wrinkled her tiny brow, considering him,
then Odo.
    "Odo's a good friend of mine," O'Brien added.
"You'll have fun waiting here, and I'll be back soon."
    Molly finally gave a short, decisive nod, but she
asked, "Where's Mommy?"
    O'Brien hesitated, glancing up at Odo. "Any word
from the Rubicon?"
    Odo briefly shook his head. "The interference is too
strong. We didn't expect to have contact while they
were inside the storm."
    O'Brien knew they were both thinking about the
checkpoint that the runabout had just missed. But he
assured Molly, "She'll be back before you know it.
Why don't you play with one of the games in your
bag? That's my girl."
    When he stood up, O'Brien was surprised to see
that Odo wasn't glaring at him. "I'm sorry, Odo, but I

124                                                            125

have nowhere else to put her. And I can't drag her
along as I recalibrate the wave guides in the power
conduit."
    Odo glanced at Molly. She obediently pulled a
game padd from her travel bag, though she was
watching her father and Odo.
"It appears she'll be no problem," Odo said.
"Thanks," O'Brien said gratefully. "You're a cut
above the rest, Constable. Oh, and if you hear
anythingre"
  'Tll let you know," Odo assured him.
    O'Brien let out a sigh of relief as he left. He didn't
want to imagine what Keiko would say when she
found out he had left their daughter with the security
chiefi Heaven only knew what kind of people would
be drifting in and out of his office while she was there.
Still, all in all, O'Brien was rather pleased with how
he had worked everything out.

126

0

CHAPTER
       9

"WHY WON'T THIS be'el thing work?" Cali demanded,
punching the keypad of the replicator with her fist.
    Captain Ari found her behavior quite amusing.
"Have patience," he mildly chided. "The Klingon
said it was malfunctioning."
    Cali picked up the plate with the rokeg blood pie
and considered it once more. But Ari knew she
wouldn't be able to bring herself to eat Klingon food
even if she were starving.
    Ari tucked away his tiny grooming comb, deciding
that a suitable amount of time had passed since the
commander had left. He deliberately walked over and
seated himself at the computer console.
 "I want a four-minute warning before he returns,"

he ordered, confident that Call would set up an
airtight perimeter.
    The senior mate mumbled into her comm, contin-
uing with her thorough search of Worf's quarters. Ari
was willing to bet the Reaper that Worf wouldn't be
able to detect that his possessions had been touched.
"Make a list of what you find," he added, intending to
personally decipher this Klingon's psyche.  "You've got it," Cali confirmed.
    As Ari logged on to the computer, he took full
advantage of the technical data the members had
been steadily gathering since they arrived at the
station. Rather than directly accessing the files, he
downloaded the recent memory storage into a data-
clip that played on his microprocessor. A practically
undetectable method of obtaining information.
    Of all the tidbits he gathered, the conversation
between Commander Worf and Captain Alons of the
Katon was most enlightening. Now he only needed to
decide how to use it.
    "He doesn't have much stuff. But look at this." Cali
waved a bat'leth trophy, the traditional ball and
curved blade of First Place. "He probably sleeps with
it at night so he can pretend he's a real warrior. Just
like the rest of those beasts."
     Ari declined to reply, but that didn't mean he
 agreed with her simplistic assessment. Perhaps the
 trophy had sentimental value. It was not polished and
 set out on display as ego would dictate, but tucked in a
 cabinet by itself, in a secret place of honor.
  "Would you like to find out more about this Kling-

128

 on?" Ari asked. "His personal logs and files are right
 here."
     Cali hesitated, despite the eager glint in her eye.
 "Won't he detect our entry?"
    "Yes. He'll know you tampered with his logs out of
pure spite."
    Cali grinned, coming towards the desk. "You have a
deal in mind, don't you?"
    Ari decided to make her wait, expertly entering the
access code for the docking ring. The members had
been specifically instructed to locate the emergency
release for the docking clamps, just in case the Reaper
needed to bypass official procedures in order to de-
part. At one point, it had looked as if they wouldn't
have enough capital to pay their docking fees at the
station, much less take on supplies for their next run.
They had badly needed the new transport contract,
and it was fitting that Cali had made the deal since it
had been her fault that their last contract had been
lost. She had given a hasty order, jettisoning half their
cargo and bringing the Reaper to the edge of insol-
vency.
    Yet there was a bright side to the ship's financial
crisis. Cali's actions had cut short the growing respect
for her among the senior members. Her deal-making
skills made her popular, but after that last run,
everyone down to the mewing infants knew that Cali
couldn't be trusted with the captain's seat. No, Ari
wouldn't be bothered for a long time by whispers in
her ears to take advantage of the rights her lineage
gave her.

    Call was eagerly gazing at him, waiting to be let in
on the deal. She was completely in his hands.
    "The Klingon yacht interests me," Ari told her,
feeling magnanimous. "It's a shame to let a situation
with such potential slip away."
 "Do you think it attacked the Ceres?"
    He waved one hand as if that was a given. "The
Klingons won't come out, and security has not yet
broken in. All we need is some leverage and we
control the situation."
    "You're going to help the Klingons?" Call asked,
wrinkling her nose at the very idea.
    "I'm going to arrange a deal with the Klingons that
will give us a small fortune."
    She stared at the screen for a few moments, then
shook her head. "You can't contact them. Starfleet
will be all over us like a swarm of vacuum mites."
    "The deal will be contracted later." Ari slipped a
chip into the computer to record the entire process,
including the communication between Alons and
Worf, and the security reports that a free-lance techni-
cian had just arrived and was making progress in
remote-triggering the Katon's locking sequence. Ari
also input a false identity and station code, pleased
that both were finally proving useful.
    He set up an order that would blow the clamps on
the Katon, releasing it from the station. On the
docking end, it would look as if the Klingons had
broken into the computer and were trying to escape.
The decoy and false identity would be detected under

130

a diagnostic exam, but that suited his purposes per-
fectly.
    Then he set up a chain reaction that would partially
cover and scatter his entry and retreat, forming a trail
back to Worf's personal logs. Using a covert universal
program, he slipped into the memory block at the
byte level. It took only a moment to find the entry for
Worf's conversation with Alons. He had counted on
the reknowned Starfleet fail safes that had left a few
free bytes between the communiqu~ and the order to
relay the transmission to Dr. Bashir. In the free space,
Ari laid down a byte-sized switch, linking in a phan-
tom loop. From the loop, he re-entered the log files
and hooked up with the trail he had left behind.
    Once the Klingon decoy had been discovered, it
wouldn't take long before the trail and the attempt to
hide it were also found, making it appear that Worf
had planted a delayed program to blow open the
clamping seals of the Katon.
    Ari triggered the sequence. "The Katon has been
jettisoned."
    Call ran to the port window, pressing her face
against the glass to see out. "Are you sure? I don't--"
she broke off. "Oh, there it goes."
    Ari removed the data chip and joined her, watching
as the Katon spun away from the station. Apparently
the engines were off line, and the ship was at the
mercy of the turbulent cosmic rays.
    "I have a log of the entire transaction, including the
cover-up as it was done from this console," Ari said
quietly.

"You'll sell it to the Klingons," Cali guessed. "They
can use it to prove that Worf set them up."
    "Any Klingon would agree that's quite a bargaining
chip to use against the Federation."
    Cali was practically prancing, she was so excited.
"It's brilliant! I can't believe that with only a few
keystrokes you come up with a deal like that."
    Ari gestured back to the computer. "Would you like
to rummage around? The more you access the logs
and cover up, the more you will help obscure the real
path of entry."
    "I'd like nothing better." Cali headed back to the
vacated seat. "I'11 plant something just nasty enough
to make him think that's why I was inside. He'll be
angry, but he may not throw me in the brig."
    "Even that could be useful," Ari murmured, know-
ing that Cali could care less where she was, as long as
she was in on a big deal.
    He stayed at the portal until the Katon spun out of
sight, wondering how long it would take Starfleet to
recapture the yacht.

    Worf had intended to go straight to the Katon once
his team had cleared the evacuees from the connect-
ing tunnel. But when he called ahead to inform Odo,
the computer replied that the chief was in his security
office.
    Worf stormed through the Promenade, hardly
breaking stride as he burst through the doors of Odo's
office. "Why did you leave the Katon?"
 Odo stopped bobbing up and down. A young hu-

 man was hanging onto his back, yelling, "Gi~yup!
 Ya!"
     Somehow Odo retained his dignity. "Commander
 Worf, this is Molly. Chief O'Brien's girl."
     Worf stared at her kicking heels, remembering his
 first sight of Molly--as she was being born. He briefly
 closed his eyes. "We have met before."
"I want the saddle again!" Molly demanded.
Worf's mental image was instantly replaced by an
equally distressing one of Odo turning into a riding
animal for small children. He tried to banish both
from his mind.
    Odo swung Molly off his back. Worf could not tell
how he did it so smoothly. "You can have another ride
later," he assured her.
  "Now," she insisted.
  "No, you have to let your steeds rest occasionally."
  "Why?"
    Odo hardly missed a beat. "Because otherwise they
die."
    "Oh." Molly's mouth made a perfect "O" as she sat
back in the cushioned chair.
  "Nice child," Worf said doubtfully.
    Odo impatiently sat down behind his desk. "What
is it you wanted, Commander?"
    "Yes." Worf remembered his anger. "Why have you
left the Katon?"
    "I thought that's what you said." Odo was looking
at his viewer. "Commander, that airlock is not my
only concern. In fact, it isn't even a high priority.
Though I know that you disagree."

    Worf tightened his lips. "What is the status of the
remote accessing?"
    "Things have been progressing more than satisfac-
torily. Particularly since Chief O'Brien sent Rom
down to assist."
 "Rom? Not the Ferengi!" Worf protested.
    "You should appreciate that Ferengi, Commander.
In fact, I was about to notify you to meet me in the
lower pylon." Odo acted as if he couldn't help adding,
"But your impatience--"
    The red klaxons flashed in the corners of the
security office as the computer announced, "Warning!
Docking breech!"
    Odo accessed the com, just as Kira announced on
his badge, "Senior crew, report to the Defiant. A
vessel has broken loose from the station."
    Worf immediately headed for the door, but Odo
called after him, "Commander, it's the Katon!"
    Worf gave him a startled nod of thanks, and broke
into a run. The Katon was not going to escape him
now, not when he was this close.
    In the turbolift, he signaled Kira in Ops. "How did
the Katon get away?"
    "It was jettisoned," Kira said briefly. "And now it's
spinning. You'll get your own chance to try to lock
onto it with tractors."
"On my way to the Defiant," he acknowledged.
He felt justified in his foresight for insisting that
the Defiant be put on standby alert. Because of
that, the Katon was hardly a light year away by the
time the crew was in place and ready to depart.

    "Disengage docking clamps," Captain Sisko or-
dered.
    "Aye, sir," replied Ensign DeGroodt at the helm--
usually Dax's post.
    Sisko was shaking his head at the distorted viewer.
"How did it happen? Turbulence?"
     Worf was already assessing that. "According to
sensor logs, the docking clamps were blown." "By the Klingons?" Sisko asked.
    "Perhaps." Worf uneasily remembered that Rom
had been working on the remote accessing. "However
it is possible that our attempts to access the airlock
systems triggered the reaction."
    Sisko gave him a dark look. "I want a complete
report."
 "Aye, sir."
    Worf was irritated by Dr. Bashir's worried expres-
sion and the way he stood so close to the captain,
listening and watching everything. Meanwhile, Lieu-
tenant Kelly at the engineering station gave him a
sympathetic grin. Worf pointedly turned away but
Kelly did not seem to mind.
    It was a minor incident but one that would never
have happened on the Enterprise. In his next tactical
report, he would include his opinion that the lack of a
tight, seasoned crew for the Defiant could be a signifi-
cant detriment during their encounters with Klingon
vessels.
    He would soon have a chance to test that theory,
while proving whether or not the Katon had the guns
to destroy the Ceres. He had been looking forward to

just such a challenge. Yet as they neared the yacht, he
had to inform the captain, "The Katon has not
powered up their engines or weapons systems."
  "What about shields?" Sisko asked.
    "Shields are holding," he replied. "The ship's status
has not changed from its docking state."
    Sisko narrowed his eyes. "Why do they continue to
let it spin?"
    "Perhaps they were injured in the explosion," Dr.
Bashit quietly suggested.
    As the Defiant came within range, Worf discovered
that Kira was correct. It was nearly impossible to keep
a tractor lock on the Katon while they were spinning
in the emission waves. The frequencies kept shifting,
flinging off the tractor beams.
    "Perhaps the spin is not accidental," Worf finally
ventured. "Tractors are unable to lock onto the
Katon. "
    "If it's a tactical decision," Sisko commented,
"then it's not a very good one. At some point the ship
will have to stop."
    Kelly agreed, "And they must be losing their gravi-
ty field--"
    "Captain," Worf interrupted. "Their engines are
powering up!"
    "A warp field is beginning to form," Ensign
DeGroodt confirmed.
 "Don't let them get away," Sisko ordered.
    Worfboosted the tractors on the Katon as their spin
slowed, catching it in the microsecond before the field

could engage. "Tractors locked on, Captain. Warp
field has been disrupted."
    "Very good, Mister Worf." Sisko sat back. "Hail
them."
    It took a while for the link to be established, and
when it was, so much static ran through the image
that it was difficult to distinguish what they were
seeing. It was an extreme close-up of Alons. The
captain had one arm draped over the console, letting
it support him as he leaned his face into view. One
enormous eye blinked askew, and his spittle-covered
lips and brown teeth were unpleasantly prominent.
His swollen, mottled tongue shoved out and licked up
a trickle of bloodsweat from his cheek.
    "Captain, you're injured!" Sisko exclaimed, stand-
ing up.
    Alons managed to groan and glare at the same time.
"You will never take us alive!"
    Sisko moved closer to the screen. "Captain Alons,
let us beam you to our ship. We have a doctora"
    "Tammoll!" Alons rasped. "You think you have
beaten me. But you--you are the ones who are
defeated. The glory is ours! Victory to the Empire!"
    Worfrealized what was happening even through the
massive shielding. "Captain, their warp core is over-
loading. It will reach critical levels in approximately
thirty seconds."
    "Can we board the Katon?" Sisko demanded, ignor-
ing the image of Alons.
    "Negative," Worf replied. "Not until they lower
their shields."

    "Never!" Alons shouted from the main viewer. "I
will die with my ship!"
    Sisko appealed to the Klingon captain. "You have
six crew members on board. Will you kill them as
well?"
    "My crew will follow me until I die." Alons man-
aged to draw back and hold his head steady for a
moment. Then he had to blink and rub his eyes
because of the sweat, and the motion threw him off
balance. "We have already won. Nothing can stop us
now."
"He's delusional," Bashir said in a low voice.
"Alons, please lower your shields!" Sisko insisted.
"Time is running out." Over his shoulder he asked
Worf, "Isn't there some way you can get a transporter
lock on them?"
    Worf briefly shook his head, concentrating on the
panel. "Not yet. Warp core is reaching critical. Ten-
second countdown."
 "Release tractor beam," Sisko ordered.
    Worf complied, knowing the captain hoped to avert
the destruction of the Katon. He fully agreed. He
would rather see the Klingons try to run than allow
them to destroy the only evidence of their crimes
against the Ceres.
    "Get some distance from that ship," Sisko ordered.
"Half impulse."
    "You conspired against us from the start," Alons
sneered into the screen. "You, you traitorous puj'O,
betraying your brothers."

    Worf dimly realized that Alons was talking to him,
but he concentrated on one last chance to lock onto
them.
    "The sight of you disgusts me!" Alons spit. "You
are nothing more than a filthy Ferengi in Klingon
hide. Selling yourself to the enemy. You're no
warrior--"
    Worf alerted security to report to the transporter
room. "Locking on, Captain."
    Alons was caught in mid sentence as the image
further distorted, then automatically switched to an
exterior view of the Katon. Worf tried to get a sensor
reading as the shields failed from the power drain, but
the Katon instantly exploded.
    Inertial dampers weren't enough to buffer the shock
wave. The Defiant lurched, then steadied.
    "Five Klingons have been beamed on board," Worf
reported. "One pattern was lost, however the others
are alive."
    The doctor immediately left for the transporter
room, calling for medical assistance through his
badge.
    Sisko stared at the starfield for a moment, watching
the last sparkles of the atomized yacht. His thoughtful
frown made it clear that he was not quite satisfied
with the outcome. "Take us back to the station."
    Worf liked it even less than the captain. He ana-
lyzed the sensor readings of the explosion, but warp
core breaches were basically all the same. He did not
believe they would be able to determine the power

capacity of the Katon even with in-depth analysis.
The interference from the plasma emissions had
destroyed that possibility.
    As they neared the station, the security team re-
ported that the doctor had sedated the Klingons and
they had been transported to Defiant's sick bay. Soon
after, Dr. Bashir signaled the bridge.
    Worf almost protested for security reasons when
Sisko ordered Bashir to be put on the main viewer.
But after only a few weeks under Sisko's command, he
knew the captain would override him.
    "What's wrong with the Klingons, Doctor?" Sisko
asked.
    "The crew of the Katon are suffering from severe
radiation poisoning." Bashir glanced at Worf. "Com-
mander Worf alerted me not more than an hour ago
that Alons seemed to be in a... stressed condition.
But his deterioration has advanced at an extraordi-
narily rapid rate. It's severe irradiation, the likes of
which I've never seen before."
"The plasma storm," Sisko murmured.
"Perhaps," the doctor agreed doubtfully. "Or it
could have been exposure to unstable chemicals, such
as solotine. Finding the root cause will be difficult
because it's not just their cellular membranes break-
ing down." Again Bashir glanced at Worf. "Their
molecular structure is decomposing. Perhaps that's
why we couldn't get a lock on the sixth man. I suggest
we move them manually to the infirmary."
 Worf would not let that pass. "Captain, I recom-

mend that the Klingons be held in the Defiant's sick
bay."
    Sisko considered the suggestion. "It might be wise.
Do you have the facilities you need here, Doctor?"
    Bashir reluctantly nodded. "I suppose the Ceres
crew might not appreciate having Klingons in the
same recovery room."
    Worf stiffened. "I am concerned with security,
Doctor."
    "Of course, Commander," Bashir replied, making
it clear that the rebuff had been noted.
    "We will have a security problem if those Klingons
get out of sick bay," Sisko pointed out to both of
them. "The last thing we need is for the Defiant to fall
into their hands."
    "Aye, sir," Worf replied, confident he could secure
them with these systems. If only the rest of the station
were like the Defiant. "Permission to proceed?"
    Sisko nodded, but Bashir was glumly shaking his
head. "Don't worry about your prisoners, Command-
er. They're not going anywhere for a while."
    The image of the docking pylon returned to the
main viewer as Worf left the bridge. By his count, he
had managed to offend every member of the senior
staff today. Except perhaps Dax...
    Gruffly he shrugged it off. He could not help it as
long as they were continually offending him.

141

;i

i?
?

CHAPTER
      lO

"WHY DON'T YOU go rest for a while?" Dax suggested.
"That bench is more comfortable than it looks."
    Keiko shook her head. She already felt like dead
weight on this mission, she certainly wasn't going to
start napping on top of it. "I think we should consider
going through a few more of those magnetic loops."
    "The radiation levels went off the scale," Dax
reminded her. "Who knows how many random parti-
cles penetrated the electrostatic field? There could be
all kinds of dangerous free radicals being produced in
here and in the components of the runabout. Not to
mention in us."
    Keiko didn't need to be told about the affects of
irradiation on biological tissue. She had been keeping
track of the interior particle count since they left the

142

station. She had always intended to have another
baby--she knew Miles would love to have a son--but
the time had never seemed right. Now Molly was six
years old and it was looking as if they might never
have another child. But Keiko wanted that to be her
choice rather than an accidental by-product of this
mission.
    Yet they weren't getting anywhere sitting here. "I've
gotten only one good reading," she told Dax. "And
that was during the flash. If we can get a few more
samples, I can at least run the data against the
biometric analysis."
    Dax was obviously growing impatient, having ex-
hausted their other options to communicate and/or
navigate through the storm. But Keiko had been
reluctant to insist on getting more data by going
through the unstable loops. She kept fighting an
unreasonable feeling that she was here by mistake. In
fact, the whole mission felt like a terrible mistake--
the kind you paid for with your life. If only the station
wasn't going to pay for it as well, along with her
husband and her baby...
    "We have to get back to warn them," Keiko in-
sisted.
    "Going through the loops may take us further away.
We could even end up in the heart of the storm, where
the plasma density would probably disintegrate the
molecular structure of the runabout."
    "I'm willing to take that risk," Keiko retorted.
"And so are you. You've been recalibrating the
shields, haven't you?"

143

 xes. we snoulo be able to go through another loop
 without losing our internal systems."
     Keiko waited, very much aware of who was in
 command. If Dax was hesitating, she must have good
 reasons. But Keiko didn't see what other choice they
 had.
     Dax must have agreed. She adjusted their course,
 bringing them closer to a magnetic current. "I'll hold
 us in a constant vector in the direction of the strong-
 est particle flow."
    "Releasing dye marker," Keiko confirmed. Now
they had two blips on their sensors, this one and the
marker she had dropped soon after they had been
deposited here. Sensors were still unable to detect the
first marker left where they had entered the storm.
Either it was too far away or else it had already
degraded to charged particles.
    "We're entering a current," Dax announced, frown-
ing briefly. "Frequencies oscillating--"
    Keiko dimmed the resolution on the viewscreen to
keep the flash from blinding them. Yet when it came,
it was so bright that everything appeared in negative
exposure for a few moments afterward.
    "Releasing dye marker," Keiko said automatically,
her finger ready on the command key. As they had
with the last loop, they appeared to be drifting in a
relatively calm area of plasma, while around them
other magnetic currents were forming.
    Keiko started scrolling through the data that the
sensors had gathered during the burst. "This is fantas-

144

tic! Density rates, velocity, units of charge, molecule
sequences..."
    She glanced over at Dax, who was sitting bolt
upright, staring at the viewscreen. Keiko checked the
viewer but there was nothing unusual about the
sparkling plasma.
 "Dax? Is something wrong?"
    Dax continued to stare, but as Keiko reached out to
touch her, she suddenly shook her head. "Holding
constant vector," she announced.
 "What happened?" Keiko asked.
    "We went through the magnetic loop." Dax gave
her a quizzical glance.
    "I think you were dazed," Keiko told her. "You
couldn't hear me. Then you snapped out of it."
    Dax instantly ordered, "Medical database, scan me
for any unusual readings."
    "Mental processes are undergoing heightened
arousal," the computer replied blandly. "There is no
biophysical damage."
    Dax seemed relieved. "I think the electrical stimu-
lation of the radiation acted like sensory overload.
You better take the helm for the next loop, just in case
it happens again."
    Keiko nodded, but she asked, "Are you sure you
want to go through another one?"
    "You need at least three for a proper test sample,
don't you?"
  "Yes," Keiko admitted. "Four would be better."
  "Then we'll do a few more. Don't worry about me.

Joined Trill are especially sensitive to radiation expo-
sure because of the neural links to the symbiont." Dax
patted her stomach fondly. "Our skull bones filter
random particles, but there's not much protection
down here."
    Keiko ordered the computer to put a constant
medical scan on Dax, just to be sure. "One more time
may be enough."
  "Then get ready, we're entering a current now."
  "This area seems to be more active," Keiko agreed.
  "Let's hope the next place is less active."
    Keiko accepted the helm as the magnetic current
grew stronger and their trajectory swung into line
with the strongest particle flow. She tried to watch
Dax and the sensors at the same time, as Dax recali-
brated the plasma trap, attempting to capture the
higher frequency ranges.
    Keiko barely had time to nod her thanks. "Stepped
leader forming."
    The flash was muted to an acceptable level so this
time she could see Dax briefly shake her head as if her
ears were ringing. Then she froze, staring.
    "Computer, analyze Dax's condition," Keiko or-
dered.
     "There is a disturbance in mental processes caused
by a paroxysmal malfunction of cerebral nerve cells."
  "Is it dangerous?" Keiko asked.
    "The seizure is not life threatening," the computer
responded.
 Dax blinked her eyes, coming out of it. She auto-

matically tried to input helm orders and was con-
fused. "Helm is not responding!"
    "You gave helm control to me before we entered the
loop," Keiko reminded her.
 "I did?" Dax seemed disoriented.
    "You shook your head after the flash, as if some-
thing hurt. Then you blanked out for--how long,
computer?"
    "The seizure lasted for ten point three seconds,"
the computer responded.
    "How am I now?" Dax asked, to both Keiko and
the computer.
    "Elevated neural activity is currently within accept-
able limits," the computer replied.
    "That's three samples," Keiko said. "Let's try to
hold position here until I get some of this data
analyzed."
    "I can agree with that." Dax rubbed her temples
and was still frowning as she set the helm to track the
slow drift of the most recent dye marker. The turbu-
lence gave it an erratic path, and Keiko kept getting
distracted by the sight of the bobbing marker. It
seemed to dance and pirouette like a Pied Piper
leading them off the edge of a cliff.
    "You want something to drink?" Dax asked, getting
up and stretching. When the uniform got in her way,
she opened the jacket and shrugged it off, leaving only
her black undershirt.
    "Hot vanilla milk," she said, standing at the small
replicator. "Are you hungry?" she asked Keiko.

146                                                                    147

     "Just some tea right now." She couldn't help ask-
 ing, "What is hot vanilla milk?"
    "You've never had it?" Dax said. "I'm used to the
dairy products of Trill, but the chemical structure is
basically the same. The replicators make a pretty
good mix."
  "I've never heard of it," Keiko said.
    "Julian says this is the Earth version." Dax set the
teacup on the lower console. "My mother gave it to
me when I was young, and even though it isn't the
same, it has a similar effect."  "What kind of effect?"
    Dax smiled into her cup. "Oh, comfort, I suppose.
It's one of those things I drank when I was sick or
feeling bad."
    Keiko relaxed somewhat, reminded that Dax was
biologically the same age as herself. She usually
seemed much older.
    Keiko raised her teacup in return. "Tea, for me, is
also a comfort food." She sipped the hot fragrant
blend. "My grandmother taught me how to make tea.
Not just how to blend the leaves, but the experience of
making tea. The setting, the motions, the flow and
ebb of the experience."
    They sipped companionably in silence, watching
their consoles. Keiko's biometric program had ac-
cepted the data as adequate and the systematic com-
parison was under way. Dax was looking much better,
as if she had recovered from the disorientation of the
seizures. For a brief moment, Keiko was at peace, not
thinking of their situation, but only about now.

148

    She sighed. "I haven't had the chance to make tea
for Miles since I got back."
 "Is that something you always do?"
 Keiko nodded. "It's... important."
 "It sounds lovely," Dax said.
    "It is." Keiko felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't
tried harder to prepare tea for Miles this time. She
hadn't even thought about it. She hoped that wasn't a
sign of something emotionally larger and much worse
waiting in the wings for them. As a couple, they had
already suffered plenty to last for the rest of their
lives.
    "The chief must like it that you go to such an
effort," Dax said.
    "Yes..." Keiko knew Dax's curiosity was person-
al. After all, she was good friends with her husband.
That's why she answered honestly. "But even after all
these years, I don't think Miles understands."
 "It's not exactly a game of darts," Dax agreed.
    "I used to play darts with him once in a while, but
lately--" Keiko was distracted by the program se-
quence. "We have insufficient data for a complete
analysis, but the computer found three biometric
programs that correlated as high as sixty-four percent.
Two bacteria groups and a species of airborne fungi
from Tantrus Two."
    "Bacteria and fungi." Dax considered that. "Or-
ganisms that transform organic materials into inor-
ganic chemicals. That makes sense since the plasma
state is inherently destructive, causing matter to lose

internal cohesion, transforming into random chains
of excited particles."
    "Yes, but there are some differences." Keiko indi-
cated the flashing portions of the graphs and equa-
tions. "Some of the pattern sequences match up when
they're reversed. See where the blue-green algae fixes
molecular nitrogen from water, forming ammonia.
Here the plasma is also undergoing nitrogen fixation,
but the sequences that remain are organic catalytic
patterns."
    "These are carbon sequences," Dax agreed. "Do
you think they're some sort of enzyme?"
    "Actually it's more fundamental than that. These
sequences are for plasmalogens. Naturally occurring
phosphoglycerides, which, under certain conditions,
release aidehyde, an organic compound. It's similar to
the fatty acids found in eggs and red blood cells."
    "And brain tissue," Dax agreed, following the biol-
ogy. "According to these readings, the plasmalogens
are mostly restricted to the magnetic currents."
    "Exactly like bioacids in carbon-based life-forms,
conducting nerve impulses and transporting nutrients
between tissues and organs." She was literally on the
edge of her seat. "Don't you see? Despite the extreme
ionization--or maybe because of it--inorganic mate-
rial is re-forming into particle chains of neural lipids.
That's the basis of carbon-organic matter." "But this is plasma, not an organism."
    "This plasma exhibits all of the biochemical proc-
esses of life." Keiko could tell Dax didn't understand

the magnitude of their discovery. "It's also in accord-
ance with Yano's theory, which holds that the key to
the transition from inorganic to organic activity lies
in plasma. He did one study that recorded pansper-
mia on a planet that had been sterile until a plasma
storm swept through the system."
    Dax sat forward. "It sounds as if you're saying the
plasma is a life-form."
    "Yes. I think it could be an organism in its own
right."
    "That's a big jump, Keiko, from plasmalogens to
life-form."
    "Look at the data. The biometric analysis proves
the plasma mass is creating life-sustaining patterns
and has an internal organization. Perhaps when this
much matter becomes highly charged, a sort of mas-
sive protoorganism is formed."
    "It would take extremely heavy matter to sustain
itself," Dax said. "But if the plasma was blown off
during the supernova of a neutron star, the carbon
particles would have started out superdense and su-
perheated, and it would have the extra energy of the
pulsar propelling it away."
    "Perhaps there's some way we can affect it," Keiko
said. "Maybe make it change course."
    "From inside?" Dax asked, making it clear what
she thought of that suggestion.
    Keiko sighed. There was nothing more she could
accomplish drifting here.
Dax must have come to the same conclusion. "Let's

 see if we can confirm your theory. If this is an
 organism, a few more bursts will help fitl in those
 gaps."
     Keiko accepted the helm, though she knew the
 radiation was harming Dax. "Why don't you put on a
 stasis belt? It will reduce the level of your exposure."
    "I agree. And you should wear one, too." Dax got
up to fetch the belts from a compartment. "It looks
as if we're going to be in here for a while."
    Keiko accepted the device as Dax wrapped one
around her waist, switching it on. Keiko usually
didn't like the tingling feeling that ran over her skin as
the stasis was activated, but this time it was reassuring
to be reminded she was protected. Why had she
waited so long to get pregnant again? But what other
choice did she have?
    It was Dax who gave Keiko a grin of encouragement
as they intersected another magnetic current. As
usual, their vector veered into the angle of its direc-
tional flow.
    At the flash, Keiko held her breath, watching Dax.
She shook her head a few times, but she didn't black
out. "I'11 take helm now."
    "Transferring helm," Keiko said automatically. "I
guess that--"
    "--stasis belt helped," Dax finished. "I knew you
were going to say that."
    Keiko was busy with the readings. "Sensors have
detected the first dye marker! The others are almost
out of range."

    Dax compared the marker map with starcharts of
the sector. "The markers are moving. It's impossible
to tell whether we're near the middle again, or maybe
towards the back."
 "I wonder ...."Keiko started. "If we had more
than four reference points, maybe we could plot the
internal patterns of magnetic currents."
    "Then we could figure out the quickest way out of
here," Dax agreed.
    "We'd need to drop a lot more markers," Keiko
warned. "That means going through more loops. Are
you sure you feel up to it?"
    "Of course." Dax didn't seem bothered by the idea
of additional radiation exposure.
    Keiko hesitated. "Computer, what is Dax's current
mental state?"
    "Neural arousal is subsiding from the upper levels
of acceptable parameters," the computer replied.
     "I'm fine," Dax insisted. "Keiko, if you don't want
to expose yourself, just say so."  "It's not thatre"
    "I've known all along that the loops are our only
way out," Dax added.
    "A few minutes ago you were resisting the idea,"
Keiko protested.
    "Well, we've run out of other options. We know the
station can't survive the energy surges inside this
storm." Dax gazed at the plasma field on the viewer.
"I'm sure the answer lies in those loops. It feels
familiar somehow."

    Now Keiko was really worried. "That doesn't
sound like scientific reasoning to me."
    "Do I have to make it an order?" Dax was suddenly
very much in command.
    Keiko stared at her, but all she could think about
was Molly. "No. Let's start plotting markers."

0

CHAPTER
      11

MOLLY POKED HER finger into Odo's side, then watched
the hole fill in when she removed it. She kept testing
different spots, as if trying to catch him in a place
where it wasn't soft. Odo wondered if the feeling was
comparable to being tickled. It certainly seemed to
give Molly pleasure.
    She giggled and darted out of reach as he made a
halfhearted attempt to catch her. Then she ran up and
gave him a particularly hard poke, sinking her finger
into the knuckle.
    "Ouch," Odo said mildly. Molly quickly pulled her
finger back, looking up at him in concern. He clapped
his hand over the spot as if he were mortally
wounded. "You got me."
  He said it rather flatly, but Molly laughed in de-

light. She had been saying, "You got me!" ever since
she started playing a game in which she was the
criminal and he had to capture her. In reality, Molly
played while Odo attempted to corral her in the area
behind his desk for safety's sake. He wondered when
she would go to sleep.
    When he had time, he accessed data on child
rearing, finding some helpful advice on kindergarten-
age children. The word meant children's garden in an
old Earth tongue, and the basic principle was to
encourage children towards self-understanding
through play activities and freedom rather than the
imposition of adult ideas.
    After he read that, Odo let Molly go all the way to
the doors so she could look through the glass. The
constant shadowy flickers showed people hurrying
past, and all sorts of loud noises echoed inside. It was
enough to keep anybody awake, much less a confused
child.
    Since Molly seemed anxious whenever he wasn't
near her, he remained at his desk while one of his
lieutenants performed the hourly inspection of the
brig. He knew what it was like to want constant
reassurance, remembering how he had been left alone
night after night during those early, confusing months
after he had been found.
    Yet humanoids had given him far more than his
own people ever had. He felt he had a right to be bitter
when he reflected on the differences between human-
oid child care, which emphasized parental aid and a
secure environment, and the Founder's habit of send-

ing their infant shapeshifters to the other end of the
galaxy. Theoretically the infants were supposed to
make their way back home with the information they
acquired along the way, but for a long time Odo had
been wondering how large a percentage of their chil-
dren were lost forever.
    If Molly was an example, then loving attention was
a far better solution. The girl was rambunctious but
her innocent reliance on him had sprung forth with
hardly any effort on his part.
    As he organized the guard details, he still found
time to fondly watch her play with her fruit cocktail.
After reading that nutrition was vital for a child her
age, he had been vigilant in plying her with the
recommended foods. But she was more interested in
splattering him with the juice than in eating, and he
was fairly certain it was because she liked to watch the
drops fall through him. He tried, but he couldn't
block his instinctive reaction to shapeshift around
foreign substances, especially when he kept getting
distracted by work.
    Yet when he received a call from O'Brien's quar-
ters, he was vaguely disappointed at the thought of the
chief coming for Molly.
    But when Odo answered, Captain Ils appeared on
the viewer instead of O'Brien. Odo hadn't met the
captain personally, but he recognized her from the
Star fleet records he had accessed when the Ceres was
towed in.
    "Security Chief Odo, here," he said courteously.
"Is there something I can do for you, Captain Ils?"

     "I've been informed that the Klingon yacht has left
 DS9." She was composed, but the weary droop of her
 eyes and slight swaying indicated that she had been
 awakened with the bad news.
    "Yes, I regret to inform you that the Katon has been
destroyed." Odo saw her sit back. "The locking
clamps were blown and before they could be recap-
tured, Captain Alons initiated a warp breach. The
Klingon crew were beamed aboard the Defiant and
are currently in--"
    "Sick bay," she finished. "On the Defiant. So I've
heard. And my crew has heard. You know, many of
them blame the Katon for the attack on the Ceres."
    "I believe Commander Worfhas not yet finished his
investigation." Odo was distracted for a moment by
Molly, as she crawled under the desk. He didn't like
the idea of letting her sit on the floor, but it was better
than fetching her away from the door every time it
opened. "Commander Worf is on the Defiant if you
would like to contact him."
    "Perhaps I will," the captain said. "I don't want my
crew getting in the way of his investigation. Tempers
are running high, and there were terrible... losses."
    Odo considered going down to the Defiant himself
but Molly bumping around on his feet reminded him
that he had to remain here. "Perhaps you should
order your crew members to stay away from the
Defiant."
    Captain Ils actually started to smile. "Chief, you
don't know my crew. I didn't mean to imply that they
would cause trouble. I expect quite the contrary. They

IHE IEMPEST

may feel it's prudent to act as back-up to your
security, in order to assist you."
    "I understand." Odo no longer felt sorry for Cap-
tain Iis. Even without a functioning starship, she still
had her command and her crew. "I will inform
Commander Worf."
    "Thank you," Iis said simply. Then she yawned, a
perfect expression of humanoid abandonment, some-
thing Odo treasured almost as much as a sneeze.
"Excuse me," she added. "I'm going to find a flat spot
and get back to sleep. Please contact me with any new
developments."
    "Yes, Captain." It wasn't until she signed off that he
remembered he hadn't asked about O'Brien. "Com-
puter, where is the location of chief... of opera-
tions?" he asked, not wanting to say his name in front
of Molly.
"The chief is currently in command of Ops."
Apparently he was going to have custody of Molly
for a while longer. She peeked up between his legs,
giving him a sunny grin. He couldn't help thinking
that it wouldn't be so bad.
The viewscreen signaled again. "Kira to Odo."
Odo instantly reached out to activate visuals. Kira
was in Ops, and had been since midday, despite the
fact that this was supposed to be her day off. Yet she
still looked as energetic as when he had seen her at the
staff briefing.
  "What can I do for you, Major?" he asked formally.
    "I'm arranging the quarters-sharing for the evacu-
ees, and I noticed that you gave up your place to that

            ~UbAN VVKt~HI

Marlkin family-crew. Where were you planning to
sleep tonight?"
    "Oh, any corner will do for me," he said offhand-
edly.
    "Come on, Odo. It's Kira you're talking to." She
gave him a wry grin. "I know how much you like your
privacy."
    "The Mafikins were in need. And I told them that
quarters would be found for them."
    "I think it's typical of you, though no one else
would know it. I also think you should stay in my
quarters tonight." She lifted her eyes to the heavens.
"I've given my bedroom to those Bajoran diplomats
who got stuck here, but you can always take the plant
out of your bucket and bring it over to my place."
    For a moment Odo was tempted. "That won't be
necessary, Major."
    "I'm offering because you're my friend, Odo. Not
because I'm in charge of making sure everyone,
including you, has a place to sleep."
    His eyes lingered on the small closet where he had
stashed his bucket earlier. "I've already arranged to
stay here, just in case there's an emergency."
    Part of him expected her to continue urging him
until he accepted, but she was abruptly summoned
away by O'Brien. "I've got to go now. If you change
your mind, come on by."
    "Thank youre" he started to say. But she ended the
transmission.
    He stared at the viewer for a few moments. Why
had he hesitated to accept her invitation? He would

like nothing better than to be near Kira, yet the idea
of desolidifying for the night in front of anyone, even
her, was discomforting, almost terrifying in its inti-
macy.
 Yet he wanted to.
 Molly held up a data clip. "What's this?"
    Odo recognized a security report he had lost last
week. So that's what had happened to it. He had hated
his sneaking suspicions that Worf had somehow got-
ten hold of it. "It's a report for Captain Sisko on
proper delegation of standard security procedures.
May I have it back?"
 She nodded, placing it on his knee.
 "Are you tired, Molly?"
    She happily shook her head. "I go to bed when
Mommy reads me a story."
    Odo had been avoiding mommy questions all eve-
ning. "I can read you a story."
    She considered that. "Daddy does my stories at the
spider."
    "Spider? You mean an insect?" he asked, wonder-
ing if he should try to get her out from under his desk.
It felt odd conversing through his knees with her.
    "Mommy and I go to the spider." Molly was sitting
cross-legged, and she grabbed onto his shoes, onto
him, as she rocked back and forth. "It's shiny, and the
stars are allIll around us."
    "That's the station," Odo told her. "Deep Space
Nine. You're on the station."
    "No," she said seriously. "Mommy and I go to the
spider to see Daddy."

 "Don't you remember?" he asked. "Your father is
 here. He brought you to me."
     She wasn't rocking any more, and she started to
 frown. "Where's Mommy?"
    "She's away on a mission. She went to look at the
storm." Molly didn't seem to understand, so he
added, "Usually you go with your mother when she's
on a mission. Like when you go to Bajor."
    "Mommy went without me?" Molly asked, her
voice rising in sudden understanding. "She's gone?"
    "No, it's not like that. She didn't go to Bajor. She's
not far away." Odo knew he would be sweating if that
were possible. "You'll see her soon."
    Molly seemed to draw into herself, peeking up at
him. "Did my mommy go away because I was bad?"
    "Of course not." Odo leaned forward, realizing the
girl had tears in her eyes. He pushed the chair away
and got down on the floor next to her. "Your mother
didn't leave because you were bad. In fact, I bet your
mother wishes she were here with you right now."
She sniffled, looking as if she wanted to believe him.
A voice carefully asked, "Chief?." and Odo realized
that the door was open.
    Odo stood up with as much composure as he could
muster. "Yes, Zeischner?"
    Security Guard Zeischner and his partner Larah
were ushering in a group of young humanoids. Odo
counted eight in all. Then he saw Jake, standing
behind the rest, ducking his head.
    He contented himself with a hard look at Sisko's
son, then turned to hear Zeischner's report. "We

found them chasing a Sattar through the habitat ring.
Apparently there was a 'deal' that went sour. The
Sattar got away, but I've got a good description."
  Odo called Jake forward. "What happened?"
    Jake glanced nervously back at the others. But when
Odo didn't budge, he seemed resigned to confessing
everything. "Col and Nesser wanted to play a joke on
their friends. They're with the students' survey tour
from University at Betazed. I didn't think--It was
only a joke."
    Odo examined the group of apparently bright
young people who were looking rather ashamed of
themselves. But one woman flung her white-blond
hair over her shoulder, glaring at the others. "Do you
have something to add?" Odo asked her.
    "Yes, I do," she said, instantly stepping forward.
"I'm Drennela Fort, and I must say we wouldn't be
here if these children had tried to control themselves.
I'm sick of their tricks and constant baiting--"
    "Give it a rest, Dren!" another girl interrupted.
"You don't get it worse than anyone else." Others also
chimed in, dismissing Drennela's complaint.
    The tallest young man, the one Jake had called Col,
told Odo, "We're supposed to test one another. It's a
part of gaining control of our empathic abilities. Only
some people are too stuck up to--"
    "Shut up!" the other girl interrupted. "That won't
help anything."
    "I suppose you know exactly what to do," Col
retorted sarcastically. "How many times have you
been arrested, Ransi?"

Odo broke in, "Perhaps I should ask all of you that
question."
    Security Guard Zeischner smiled at Larah without
letting the youngsters see him. Jake had the grace to
look contrite, giving Odo an apologetic shrug. "It was
only a joke."
    "You've said that three times," Odo reminded him.
"Exactly what happened?"
    "Meln and Ransi pulled something on Col and
Nesser earlier." Jake glanced over his shoulder and
must have thought better of beginning so far back.
"Anyway, they decided to get even by turning over
their cots."
    "I see." It sounded like the same thing as Dax
disarranging his quarters. "I have never understood
the desire to interfere with other people's personal
belongings."
    The Betazoids exchanged glances among them-
selves as if they had never thought of it that way.
    Ransi simply repeated, "We train our shields by
testing each other."
    "We're in an emergency situation," Drennela re-
minded them. "This is not the time for petty training
exercises."
    Odo tended to agree, but their arguing was serving
no useful purpose. "And the Sattar?" he prodded.
"How did he get involved in your training exercise?"
    "It wouldn't be any good if Ransi could just ask the
computer which one of us came into the room," 2ake
explained. "So we found this Setter, a kid who was

hanging around. He went in and turned the cots
over."
    "You let a Sattar into your quarters?" Odo slowly
asked.
    Jake quickly assured him, "Col and I stood in the
door to watch. He turned over the ones we told him
to, and... well..."
 "Go on," Odo ordered.
    "He suggested that we take something and hide it.
Col saidw"
    Col spoke up for himself. "I told him to take
Drennela's tricorder. But that was it! Ask Jake. I don't
know what happened to the other things."
    Jake was nodding agreement. "I didn't see him take
anything else."
    "You told him to take my tricorder?" Drennela
demanded. "How could you? It's the only one I've
got."
    "I meant to get it back," Col insisted. "I was
reaching for it as he came outside. But then, those
other people were coming, and the three of you were
right behind them. We were hiding around the
corner."
"I only turned away for a second," Jake chimed in.
"And he was gone," Odo finished for them. "Jake,
what possessed you to have anything to do with a
Sattar? You of all people should know better."
    "I know," he agreed. "But it didn't seem like a deal.
I mean, we only paid him a few replicator rations for
doing it."

    "A nice haul," Odo commented. "Give Zeischner a
list of the missing items and we'll try to locate this
Sattar. We may be able to catch him when he uses
those replicator rations." Odo sat down, noticing that
Molly was lying on the blanket he had found for her.
She was nearly asleep. He realized he had completely
forgotten about her, and it gave him a frightening jolt.
    Drennela stepped forward. "Will I get my tricorder
back?"
    Odo didn't think it was likely, but she was looking
at him with such plaintive hope in her eyes. "Perhaps.
Though usually in cases such as this, the items are
immediately sold. Even if we catch the thief, he
probably no longer has your tricorder."
    Drennela stepped back without a word, but her
pout was distinctly reproachful, as if he should be able
to do something about it. Odo didn't even have to
look at Jake for him to offer, 'Tll buy you another
one." Col was nearby, and he also agreed to help
replace the tricorder.
    "I had data on it," Drennela said to no one in
particular. "Most of it was on chips, thank the stars!
But I did lose everything from today's work."
    Jake apologized to the young woman, but she didn't
seem interested in hearing it.
    She was first in line to report her losses, while Jake
hesitated in front of Odo's desk~ "I'm sorry, Odo. He
was just a kid and I thought I had everything under
control."
 "You were dealing with a professional," Odo re-

minded him. "These others could file charges against
you and Col for aiding and abetting burglary."
    Now Jake really looked nervous. But the Betazoids
didn't even consider the suggestion. They were obvi-
ously annoyed but they blamed themselves and Col
more than Jake.
    'Tll pay for everything that was stolen," Jake
recklessly vowed to the rest.
    Security Guard Zeischner raised one corner of his
mouth, tapping the tricorder. "You're talking about
quite a sum here, young man."
    "I don't care. It's my fault," Jake insisted. "I should
have known better." Odo was glad to see that Col was
a steady lad, as he also pledged to replace the stolen
items. Yet his forehead creased on hearing the approx-
imate total, and Ransi compassionately rubbed his
arm, whispering assurances to him.
    "I'll have to put this incident on report," Odo told
them. "Both your university guide and Captain Sisko
will be informed." Jake sagged slightly at the news,
but he didn't protest. "For now, I will trust you on
your own recognizance. However, no more 'training
exercises' on this station. Do you understand?"
    The students were nodding in absolute agreement,
eager to get away. Odo held out one hand to stop Jake.
"As for you, I strongly suggest you return to your own
quarters."
    "That's exactly what I had in mind," Jake agreed
with a sigh.
Odo glanced down at Molly, almost asking Jake to

take the girl with him so she could be put to bed
properly. But that was out of the question. He
couldn't tell O'Brien that his daughter had been sent
off with Jake after he was brought in as an accessory
to burglary.
 "Go home," Odo told him.
 Molly opened her eyes. "Is it time to go home?"
 "Not yet. You go back to sleep."
    Jake look startled and leaned forward to see over
the edge of the desk.
  "It's Molly O'Brien," Odo explained.
    Jake's eyes widened. "Dax and Keiko aren't back
yet?"
      Odo sharply shook his head, motioning obliquely to
the girl. Molly popped her head out, blinking at Jake.
  "Hi," Jake said. "Remember me?"
    She barely nodded as she crawled from under the
desk and started to climb onto Odo's lap.
    At first Odo tried to stop her, but she wiggled half
way up and then he had to help her the rest of the way
so she wouldn't fall.
    "Is she okay here?" Jake asked. "If you want, I can
take her home with me."
  "No, she seems to be settling down here."
    "Yeah, she does seem comfortable. Funny, I never
imagined you as a dad before." Jake hesitated as he
turned away. "Thanks, Odo."
    Odo didn't quite know what to do as the girl
squirmed around, trying to get comfortable on his
lap. "For what?"

Jake smiled. "You didn't make me feel any more
like an idiot than I deserved."
    "Humph!" Odo glanced away. "Maybe I should be
tougher on you. Then things like this wouldn't
happen."
    "Nah. Wait 'til I'm getting arrested every week." He
cast his eyes down. "At least you know this won't
happen again."
    Odo nodded, making it clear by the way he watched
Jake leave that he would have to prove himself. Yet to
give the boy credit, he had never been much of a
nuisance even when Nog was around to help him get
in trouble.
    Molly finally found a position she liked, tucked into
the curve of his arm. Her head leaned against his
chest and he could only see her profile--the upturned
nose and chin, with her small mouth slightly open and
moistly pink.
    He gently stroked a hand against her long dark hair,
held back in a thick braid. It was so silky that he could
feel each strand against his palm. Then he brushed
her rounded cheek with his knuckle. She shifted but
kept her eyes closed, lying with complete trust in his
arms.
    He didn't want to disturb her, so he merely nodded
to Zeischner and Larah as they left the office to return
to their post. He was grateful they pretended to ignore
the girl sleeping on his lap.
    When Chief O'Brien finally appeared, Odo was
relieved that he would finally be able to move again.

But it happened too fast. The chief burst through the
door with apologies and explanations, rushing across
the room to take Molly. Odo handed her over and felt
as if some part of himself had accidently left with her.
He didn't realize how warm she was until she was
gone.
    "I mean that, Odo," O'Brien was repeating.
"You're the best. I don't know what I would have
done without you."
    Molly didn't even wake up. Her head was lying on
O'Brien's shoulder, the dark braid swinging free.
    "It was no bother," Odo said shortly, sitting back
down in his chair.
    "If I were you," O'Brien said. "I'd get some sleep.
The storm is scheduled to hit sometime tomorrow
morning."
    Odo nodded. "Of course." He pretended to be
absorbed in his monitor until O'Brien left. But he
watched the father and daughter through the win-
dows, heading towards the habitat ring. Then he
glanced lower, where the glass was smudged with tiny
fingerprints, each one as distinct as the little girl
herself.
    "Get some sleep," Odo murmured, repeating
O'Brien's advice to himself. How naturally it had
rolled off the chief's tongue, as if he expected Odo to
lie down in a bed rather than pour himself into a
bucket. And for some reason, the slip didn't annoy
him.
 It reminded him of Kira's offer. Much as he wanted

I HE I i-MYEb I

to accept, he decided that it would be more prudent to
stay here where he could be summoned at a moment's
notice.
    Odo shook himself and called his relief. O'Brien
was right, he was tired, and there was a big storm
coming.

0

CHAPTER
      12

O'BRIEN KNEW HE must be tired from how heavy Molly
felt. He gripped his wrists, supporting her more
firmly. She couldn't have gained weight in the past
few hours.
    She briefly woke and murmured, "Daddy," then
she was asleep again.
    She was a good girl. "No bother at all," Odo had
said.
    O'Brien knew this must be hard on his daughter.
She was used to being with caregivers, both real and
holographic, but not at night or for such long stretches
of time. Besides, Odo hardly qualified as a caregiver,
though Molly seemed none the worse for her stay with
him. At least she was sleeping.
  He just hoped Keiko got home before Molly woke

IHE I EMPEST

up. They still hadn't heard from the Rubicon, and it
was hours past the checkpoint. As soon as Sisko had
returned to Ops, O'Brien had demanded to know
when they were going to search for the survey team.
Sisko had responded by relieving him of duty and
sending him home to get some rest.
    O'Brien had no choice but to fetch Molly, but he
couldn't take her home. Captain Ils had vacated the
Ceres only after O'Brien gave her the stress evaluation
report indicating that the damaged vessel was partic-
ularly vulnerable to shock waves. He had offered his
own quarters for the use of Captain Iis and her senior
staff, pointing out how dangerous it would be if the
scout broke loose from its moorings. Even the repair
crews had been recalled until after the storm was past.
    Somehow he had found time between the various
disasters to fetch a few things for himself and Molly.
He picked up the bundle from a maintenance panel
inside the habitat ring, and headed toward their
temporary quarters. Major Kira had put them in with
Commander Worf.
    He had to ring the bell twice. "Hello, Worf? It's
Chief O'Brien."
 Finally he heard, "Enter."
    The door opened, but the brooding tension in the
darkened room made him hesitate to carry Molly
inside. The front of Worf's uniform was partly open,
and the knot on his ponytail had loosened. O'Brien
hastily looked away from something disgusting that
quivered on the plate in his hand.
 That's when he saw the Sattar. She bristled, baring

her teeth, indicating she was prepared to protect the
other Sattar. By contrast, the older one was reclining
back in a chair, carefully positioned to have a view of
the entire room.
    "Kira assigned us to these quarters," O'Brien ex-
plained. Cautiously he entered, wondering how many
were here. There were always more Sattar around
than you could see. His hand securely held Molly's
back just in case he needed to do some quick maneu-
vering. "The major said you were the only one still
alone."
    Worf made a noise of disgust. "I apologize. I
neglected to notify Ops that Captain Ari and his
senior mate were staying here."
    "Great!" O'Brien exclaimed. "Now what are we
going to do? Captain Iis and her staff are already in
my quarters."
    "Stay here," Worf told him. "You and the child may
use my bed."
    O'Brien's irritation vanished. "We can't kick you
out of your own bed. Just give me some blankets and
I'll settle her down out here--"
    "This is where we're sleeping," the female Sattar
interrupted. "We weren't offered the bed."
    "The child may have it, Cali," the other Sattar
chided.
    Worf ignored them both, telling O'Brien, "I intend
to return to the Defiant tonight."
    O'Brien knew him well enough to recognize that
tone, cautioning for silence in front of the Sattar. He
had followed the disaster with the Katon from Ops,

and he could understand why Worf preferred to
remain near the Klingon prisoners.
 "Are you sure?" he asked out of pure form.
    Worf nodded shortly, sitting down at the table to
finish his meal.
    O'Brien didn't like the idea of rooming with a pack
of Sattar, but at least he had his tool kit with the
locking seals.
    He carried Molly into the bedroom, and gently
removed the clothes from her limp body. He had
brought her favorite nightgown and the stuffed hippo
she liked to sleep with. At least, it used to be her
favorite. Things changed so quickly with his daughter,
and he hadn't seen her in a couple of months.
    As he pulled the covers over her, making sure she
was far enough away from the edge, he wished he had
taken better care of her today. He couldn't remember
the last time he had her all to himseld Why couldn't it
happen when he had time to enjoy it?
    He checked the room with his tricorder to make
sure there were no Sattar lurking in the vents. Out-
side, he could hear Cali's voice rising, "... and
you're out to get them! Just the way you trapped us
here when you thought the Reaper attacked the
Ceres."
    As he closed the door behind him, O'Brien made
sure Molly wasn't disturbed by the noise. But she
hardly moved, clutching the hippo close to her chest.
    Worf briefly glanced up as O'Brien returned. He
was slightly hunched over the plate, steadily eating as
he tried to ignore the Sattar.

    "The only reason you let us go," Cali insisted, "is
because now you have the Klingons."
"Cali, please," the elder Sattar admonished.
"He's the one who should be afraid," Cali snapped
over her shoulder. "He destroyed their yacht! We're
lucky he didn't have time to blow up the Reaper first."
    Since Worf wasn't taking her seriously, O'Brien
decided it was none of his concern. Just another crazy
evacuee. He had seen plenty of them today, and this
Sattar was not the worst by a long shot. He went to the
replicator to call up some mutton stew. A hot shower
was high on his list but when there was a contest
involving his stomach, food always won out.
    Despite Worf's lack of interest--or maybe because
of it--Cali wouldn't back down. She took a few steps
toward the table, physically confronting him. "I can
prove you canceled the departure clearance for the
Reaper. You wanted a Klingon suspect, so you planted
evidence on our transport. But when the Katon ar-
rived, you decided they were a better target."
    "That is absurd." Worf was finally provoked into
pushing away his plate.
    "I saw it with my own eyes," she insisted. "You
ordered traces of photons from massive disruptor
discharges to be found on our hull so you could prove
we attacked the Ceres."
 Worf's hand smacked the table. "You lie!"
    "I saw it in your files," she told him, smugly
satisfied with herself.
    "You accessed my files?" Worf's voice changed as
he swiftly went to his computer console. From the way

he struggled with the commands, O'Brien figured that
somebody had disrupted his personal system.
    Worf started to rise, his fingers splayed as if to grab
the Sattar and shake the sass out of her. The replicator
chimed, and O'Brien took his bowl of stew, leaning
against the wall where he could keep one eye on the
bedroom door and the other on the action. He hadn't
seen anything so entertaining since Leeta had cut
down the fast and insistent advances of the King of
Aruth, a "moon-sized planet in the dead end of
space," as she had put it. Among other things. The
king had slunk out of Quark's never to return.
    But Worf wasn't as good at controlling his rage.
"You had no right to access my files!"
    Call tossed her mane. "You broke faith with us
first."
    Captain Ari sighed as he wearily stood up. "On
behalf of my crew, Commander, I apologize for the
intrusion. I did not realize what Cali had done until I
woke from my nap."
    Worf returned to his files, trying to determine the
extent of damage that had been done. "I did not file
this report on photon traces. You planted this! And
you accuse me of treachery."
    Cali started to laugh. She turned away, collapsing
on the couch and holding her sides. Worf awkwardly
stood there.
    "Look at you!" she cried out as she rolled. "The big,
bad Klingon! Don't like the taste of your own medi-
cine, do you?"
 "Cali!" Ari exclaimed sadly. "Commander Worf

 was generous enough to lend us his quarters. Why
 repay his trust and tarnish the name of the Reaper
 with this idiotic stunt?"
    "It's no big thing," she denied. "Besides, I couldn't
help it. He's been such a mew-face over everything."
She propped her head up to give Worf a self-righteous
look. "I think it's because he's lost everything. What
the Klingons didn't take, he gave away to that couple
on Earth, including his son. Have you ever heard of
anything so vile?"
  "Enough? Worf reached the couch in two strides.
    "Just like a Klingon," she sneered up at him. "First
try threats, then turn belligerent."
Worf seemed to clench up. "Do not provoke me."
"I'm stating a fact." She looked him over. "And
you're undoubtedly the most Klingon Klingon I've
ever met. Belligerent to the core." Her finger pointed
at him. "You're so belligerent, you're fighting all the
other Klingons, your own people! You can't even
make peace with one other Klingon, can you? I call
that--"
  "Silence!"
    Worf must have realized he had shouted. Nobody
said a word. Captain Ari sighed again as he sat back
down, resigned to facing the consequences. O'Brien
ate a few bites of his stew, figuring it was best for him
to stay out of it.
    Cali waved a hand at Worf, turning to her captain.
"I knew he was too much of a $po'noS to do anything
about it."
 Worf stepped forward, as if that was too much. He

took hold of her arm to pull her off the couch. "Get
up, Sattar. I could charge you with trespassing--"
  "You let go of me!" she sneered, tensing.
    "You will do as I--" Worf choked as Cali slammed
her foot into his stomach.
    O'Brien spit out a mouthful of stew, as the Sattar
sprang to the back of the couch. She spun on one leg,
landing a vicious kick to Worffs jaw.
    Worf staggered sideways at the unexpected blow,
even though he was also folded in over his stomach
from the first well-aimed kick.
    O'Brien flung his bowl away and grabbed the Sattar
from behind. He was careful to use a security hold.
She might be small, but she sure packed a mean bite.
    "I don't like being pawed by Klingons," Cali spit
out with a bitter laugh.
    O'Brien was relieved when she didn't resist him.
Once he was sure she was secure, he remembered to
swallow what was left of the stew in his mouth.

    Worf could not breathe. His world shrank to the
constricted opening in his throat as he tried to force
air into his lungs. He bent over as far as he could
without falling. Dimly he could hear her laughter. He
would rather drop dead than let that veglargh bring
him to his knees.
 Desperately wheezing, he staggered to the desk.
    "Should I call... security?" O'Brien asked. It
sounded as if he had been about to say "sick bay."
    "I will take her. To the brig," Worf managed to rasp
out. He removed a pair of stasis restraints from a

 drawer and tossed them to O'Brien. Then he sat
 down, propping himself up on the desk as he watched
 the chief attach the restraints around the Sattar's
 wrists. She was actually smiling, as if she was putting
 up with this because she thought it was funny.
     "This is one of your senior mates?" O'Brien asked
 the captain. Ari was holding one hand over his eyes as
 if he were disgusted by what had happened. "I'd hate
 to see what the rest of your crew is like."  "A lot you know!" Cali taunted.
    It only took one look from Captain Ari to make
Cali shut up. It reminded Worf of Captain Picard's
expression on those rare occasions when he was
thoroughly disappointed in him. "Cali, you should
consider your position if I do not find it in my best
interests to defend you in this crime."
    "It was nothing," Cali protested, suddenly sound-
ing much more worried. "I just wanted to let some
light into that vacuum he's been living in."
    Captain A ri deliberately turned away as if distanc-
ing himself from both her and her actions. "Again,
you have my deepest apologies, Commander."
    Worf had had enough of this. He grunted, pushing
himself to his feet. "Cali, senior mate, you are under
arrest for assaulting a commanding officer of this
station."
    Cali cast a longing look at her captain, but she could
only see the back of his mane. Worf took Cali from
O'Brien. She twisted once in protest, then stopped,
watching Ari the entire time.
 O'Brien sighed as he went to pick up the bowl,

scraping some of the splattered stew off the rug. "I'm
going to bed. This has been too exciting for me. It's so
kind of you to let us stay, Worf."
    But when Worf dragged a subdued Cali to the door,
O'Brien added, "Let me know if Sisko decides to take
the Defiant out. I'd like to go look for the Rubicon."
    Worf glanced back. The chief had served as an
unexpected support, refraining from calling security
and allowing him to recover himself. "I will inform
the captain."
    He forced himself to stand straight, ignoring the
shooting pains in his stomach as he led Cali down the
corridor. He would not allow her to think she had
injured him in any way. Now that Captain Ari was out
of sight, she was not acting nearly apologetic enough.
    At least his mind was clearing. As they entered the
turbolift, he could not resisting asking, "Why did you
attack me?"
  Call shrugged. "I don't know."
    Worf waited, but she had nothing more to say for
herself. "Perhaps you are stupid after all."
    Her nostrils flared. "You know, Klingons always
grab Sattar the way you did, over the shoulder,
pressing your fingers into our necks, moving us
around as if we were pets. With less respect, because
you know we don't dare bite you. A Klingon crushed
my shoulder bone the day they took my mother
away." She shrugged, pressing her lips together for a
moment to hide the sudden trembling. "I don't know.
Ever since then I can't stand to be shoved around."
  Defiantly she raised her eyes.

  "I was not aware of that," he told her.
     Cali sniffed, tossing off her own words. "You are a
 soft one, aren't you? But I think there's fire under all
 that mush. I bet if you could have gotten off a return,
 it would have been a good one."
     She grinned up at him in a completely infuriating
 way. He clenched his teeth together, wincing at the
 pain. She had really clipped his jaw.
    He could not wait to get rid of her. He shoved her
along faster, though taking care to touch only her
wrists. He had a sneaking desire to belt her, just to
make things even. After all, as Riker would say, she
had cold-cocked him. But he relegated his fury into
plans to use her image in his next combat program.
    Zeischner was seated at the security desk. "We were
looking for a male Sattar, Commander."
    "I know nothing about that," Worf told the guard.
"Book Cali, senior mate of the Reaper, for assaulting
a commanding officer of this station."
      "Who's pressing charges?" Zeischner asked as he
came around the desk to take custody of Cali.  "I am." Worf ignored the man's surprise.
    'TI1 put her in with a Risan couple," Zeischner said
as he handed Cali off to another guard. "She ought to
have fun with that."
    Cali glared back at Worf as the guard led her away.
"This isn't over yet, Klingon!"
    Larah pulled her along. "Yeah, yeah, they all say
that, sugar drop. You know, you're pretty small to
have such a big mouth on you."

     Zeischner grinned at Worf. "Shall I get the chief?.
He's staying nearby in case of emergencies." Worf glanced around, unwilling to ask.
    Zeischner gestured to the door of the small storage
room. "He locked himself in there. But I can signal
him to wake up."
    Worf was already shaking his head, picturing a
bucket inside the closet with Odo sloshing around
inside. "That will not be necessary."
    "Aye, sir," Zeischner replied, apparently quite at
ease with his superior's strange sleeping habits.
     The computer signaled, and Dr. Bashir asked, "Se-
curity? I'm looking for Commander Worf."  "Worf here."
    "We need you on the Defiant, Commander." Bashir
sounded harassed. "We might have to transfer these
Klingons to the brig."
  "On my way," Worf assured the doctor.
    "Don't bring any more guards," Bashir hastily
added. "There are more than enough here already."
    Worf acknowledged, as Zeischner confirmed, "Odo
prepared a holding cell in case it was needed for the
Klingons."
    "I will inform you before the transfer begins," Worf
told the guard. "Alert the patrols to take up position
along the route from the docking ring."
    Zeischner started to move toward the storage clos-
et, but Worf stopped him. "There is no need to bother
the security chief."
  "Aye, sir," Zeischner replied. But there was a

hesitance in his voice, as if he would have preferred to
inform Odo of the move.
    Worf noted the guard's reaction, but he refused to
rescind a direct order when it concerned the Kling-
OhS.

CHAPTER
      13

IT WAS LATE, but that shouldn't have been enough to
distract Sisko from his usual end-of-the-day inspec-
tion of the station. But there were so many people on
the station that they blurred into one nameless,
milling mass. Most of them were so determined to
enjoy themselves that it reminded him of Kasidy's
"quarters warming" party last week. Her crew and
most of his senior staff, as well as a revolving group of
Bajoran docking technicians and customs inspectors,
had joined the impromptu celebration of her move to
the station. Even some of her neighbors had joined in,
mostly Promenade employees, and the laughter and
music had spilled into the corridor, lasting until early
morning.
  Sisko paused near a portal on the mezzanine of the

 Promenade. What with the crowded conditions, he
 was able to walk around the station without attrac:mg
 much attention, an unusual sensation for him. The
 two humanolds curled underneath the portal ignored
 him though he was only inches away. But then again,
 so was everyone else.
     He gazed into the growing dark mass of the storm.
 It seemed to blot out the stars like a warning, and he
 couldn't blame Kasidy one bit if she was starting to
 regret her move. It had hardly been a week, and
 already a plasma storm was threatening to rip the
 station out of the fabric of space.
    Yet Kasidy was a captain in her own right, and
knew all about the dangers of living among the stars.
Perhaps he kept thinking about her because she had
been mentioned in so many of the reports today. Kira
had praised Kasidy as one of their most staunch
volunteers since the initial storm warning had been
issued. He had never met a woman with more energy,
or a stronger determination to do the right thing. He
couldn't understand why she had remained a trans-
port captain when she could obviously do anything,
even attend Starfleet Academy, if she wished. But
every time he tried to ask her about that, she had
laughed off his questions. In general, she tended to be
vague about her future plans.
    Sisko would have liked nothing better than to track
her down and talk about everything she had seen and
done today. But she was probably asleep, and that was
why he was wasting his time like this.

    He turned away from the storm, knowing that he
would have to face it down soon enough. Quickly
finishing his tour of the mezzanine, he proceeded to
the Defiant to get Bashir's final report before he made
his decision.
    The corridor outside the docking port for the
Defiant looked like a war zone. There were more
security guards here, both Starfleet and Bajoran, than
he had seen on his entire tour of the upper core. There
were also some guards in ship's security uniforms
gathered near the turbolift. One lieutenant nodded as
Sisko passed, and he recognized her as an officer from
the Ceres.
    As he entered the airlock, he could hear bellows of
anger and yelled curses echoing through the corridors
of the Defiant.
    Sisko found Dr. Bashir and his assistant outside
sick bay. "Problem with the Klingons, Doctor?"
    Bashir looked as if he hadn't sat down all day.
"They don't appreciate the regeneration treatment."
    "Apparently not," Sisko said. "Can't you sedate
them?"
    "That interferes with the stimulation of regenera-
tion, and I've given them the limit of neural block-
ers." Bashir had to raise his voice to be heard.
"Regeneration is a highly invasive procedure, both on
the cellular and chromosomal level. Their neural
network has to be left intact to coordinate the repair."
     Sisko looked through the door. Security guards
 were posted in the back corners of the room, flinching

 as the five Klingons struggled against the restraints of
 the med-beds. Their enraged faces were in stark
 contrast to their pale blue jumpers, which looked like
 children's footed pajamas. A portable regeneration
 unit was belted around the waist of each one.
    Alons saw Sisko and started sputtering incoherently
in Klingon. It sounded as if he was accusing him of
cowardice and sadistic brutality. Sisko's Klingon
didn't quite cover this sort of situation.
    He turned away. "They seem to be recovering
nicely. It's time they were moved to the brig."
    Bashir sighed. "I thought you'd agree. I've already
notified Worf."
    In one sense, Sisko was relieved to see the Klingons
looking so vigorous. "Then their radiation exposure
was not as serious as you believed?"
    "No, it's quite severe," Bashir gravely contradicted.
"They'll have to undergo intensive treatment for at
least a week, and two of them may never be able to
reproduce."
    Sisko prepared himself. "Was it caused by the
storm emissions?"
    "Even if they were near the storm for days, they had
adequate shielding to protect them. However, Cap-
tain Alons informed me they were inside the black-
body itself. The Ceres crew didn't show a fraction of
their exposure level, but they never entered the
storm."
 "How long were the Klingons inside the storm?"
 "Hours at most. Less than a day."
 "The runabout has been inside for nearly eight

hours," Sisko reminded him. "Will Dax's electrostat-
ic guard protect them?"
    "We have no way to know without data on the
interior conditions. According to Worf's investiga-
tion, the Katon had superior shielding."
    Sisko clenched his fist. His decision was made for
him. He only wished he hadn't allowed Dax to take a
runabout when this was obviously a task suited to the
Defiant.
    Worf appeared at the end of the corridor, followed
by a phalanx of guards. "Captain," he said, acknowl-
edging Sisko. "We are prepared for prisoner transfer."
    "I'm ready whenever you are," Bashir agreed, winc-
ing at the noise from the inner room.
    Sisko nodded. "Commander, after you secure the
Klingons in the brig, please notify the secondary crew
that the Defiant will depart immediately."
  "Sir?" Worf asked. "The secondary crew?"
    "Yes. The senior officers will remain on the station
while I investigate the storm."
    Bashir suddenly revived. "Captain, request permis-
sion to come along. I have experience with biometric
analysis, as well as the medical data on the Klingons'
radiation degeneration. I would be able to assist you."
    "You've been on duty since the beginning of the
first shift," Sisko reminded him.
  "With all due respect, sir, so have you."
    Sisko didn't want to risk more of his top people in
this storm, and yet he didn't have the scientific
background to make informed decisions. Bashir did.
  "Very well." Sisko stood next to Worf as the guards

 placed the Klingons under stasis and transferred them
 to antigray pallets. The shouts became blessedly muf-
 fled.
  "Sir--" Worf started.
     Sisko interrupted, "No, Commander, you're
 needed here."
     "I agree." Worf lowered his voice. "However, Chief
 O'Brien requested to be informed if you decided to
 search for the Rubicon."
     Sisko knew he would have to deal with O'Brien at
 some point. "Thank you for reminding me, Com-
 mander."
    Sisko couldn't keep a faint note of impatience from
his voice, and Worf heard it, instantly drawing back
into himself. Sisko knew why he felt defensive about
the family members of his crew, but he didn't want to
explain it to everyone. He wouldn't have told Kasidy,
except for that desperate moment when he realized he
was losing her. That alone had forced him to confess
the truth.
    Yet he wasn't satisfied as he followed Worf and the
guards off the Defiant. Worf had never before indi-
cated that he had any personal concern for another
member of the crew. Sisko felt as if he had stomped
on Worf when he was most in need of encouragement.
    He followed the transport detail through the dock-
ing ring, approving of the way Worf dispersed the
guards into a nonthreatening yet visible presence.
Though the Klingons could barely move, they
shouted their threats loud enough to penetrate the

stasis fields. Refugees cringed back against the walls
as they passed, overwhelmed and confused by the
curses brought down on Starfleet, the Federation,
Bajorans, Sisko, and Worf, not necessarily in that
order of vehemence. Sisko decided that the Klingon
prisoners were the least of his worries, and he turned
into the habitat ring.
    As the door to his quarters opened, he was immedi-
ately aware of the difference inside. The blue light was
off, leaving the room dark. Then he saw the lumped
shadows on the couches, and bit off his command for
lights. He had almost forgotten about Kira's arrange-
ments for some of the crew of the Ceres to stay with
him and Jake.
    He quietly made his way to his desk and activated
the console. It made a good excuse to simply type in
messages for Jake and Chief O'Brien, letting them
know that the Defiant had left in search of the
Rubicon and would return before the end of the third
shift.
    He sent O'Brien's message, noting that it had been
routed to WorPs quarters. Perhaps this overcrowding
isn't all bad if it can get Worf to sympathize with his
fellow officers.
    Then he saved the message to Jake, tagging it with
an alert flash. Glancing at his son's closed door, he
decided it would be better to let him sleep. According
to the latest security report that had been waiting for
him in Ops, Jake had already had a busy night with
his Betazoid friends.

            ~USAN VVRIIJPI I

    Sisko headed into his room for a quick refresher
and a change of clothing, the next best thing to sleep
and a good meal. But when the door opened he saw
that Jake was asleep in his bed. He paused to look at
his son's relaxed face, glad that he could at least say
good-bye this way.
    He hardly made a sound as he changed and fresh-
ened up, but the hiss of the door as he started to leave
must have been the last straw.
  "Dad?" Jake asked sleepily.
  "Yes, Jake."
 He rolled over. "You're home."
    Sisko waited, wondering if his son would fall back
asleep. But Jake said, "It must be late. I got in late."
    "It is." Sisko gave in, letting the door close. He sat
down on the edge of the bed, within the diminished
starglow cast through the window.
    Jake took one look and pushed himself up on his
elbows. "You're mad at me. I know, I should have
known better. That's what I told Odo, but Fm real
sorry, and I'll pay for everything--" He broke off,
sitting up so he could lean his head in his hands. "I
don't blame you for being mad at me."
    Sisko suddenly wanted to hug his son--his pre-
cious, honorable son--but that would only confuse
him. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jake.
    So he restrained himself, asking, "Do you have
enough credit to reimburse everyone?"
    Jake ducked his head. "Almost, with Col paying
half. If I could borrow some from you..."

    "Once the replicators are back on line, I'm sure
we'll be able to take care of it," Sisko assured
him.
    A ghost of Jake's smile appeared. "Thanks,
Dad."
    "I know what it's like," Sisko told him. "Strange
things can happen to your judgment when your nor-
mal life is disrupted. It's different when you're on a
mission. You expect unusual things to happen. But
when you wake up in the morning, you don't expect
that night you'll be sharing your quarters with five
other people."
    "Six," Jake corrected. "Kasidy was going to have to
sleep on Leeta's floor, so I gave her my bed. I told her
you wouldn't mind if I bunked in with you."
  "Kasidy's here?"
  "I thought you'd want that," Jake said.
    "Yes." Sisko realized he was glad she was here, safe,
and he was pleased at how easy Jake had made it for
him. He would have offered Kasidy his own bed, but
that might have offended her pride.
Jake yawned. "Why don't you come to bed?"
Sisko tried to smile. "Not yet. I'm taking the
Defiant out to look for the runabout. So you won't
have to put up with my snoring tonight."
    Jake ignored his light tone. "You think something's
wrong with them?"
    "That's what we have to find out." Sisko didn't
mention the fact that they also needed data on the
interior radiation of the plasma storm.

     "I saw Molly a few hours ago," Jake said. "I hope
 Keiko and Dax are all right."
     "We'll make sure they are," Sisko told him, prefer-
 ring that Jake concentrate on that than on the danger
 to the station. "I have to go now."
    As Sisko got up, Jake blurted out, "You weren't
going to wake me, were you?"
"I left you a message, but this is much better."
His son nodded. "Remember that next time you go
searching after people who have disappeared. Please
let me know first, even if you have to drag me out of a
date, okay?"
  "Okay," Sisko agreed, feeling his throat tighten.
    Jake kept smiling until the door closed behind him.
Sisko appreciated his effort.
    He almost crossed the room to the other door. He
wanted to look in on Kasidy, to see her sleeping, but
he knew he couldn't without waking her. And he was
already disturbing the Ceres crew. He heard coughing
from the other side of the table, and two others were
whispering near the couch.
    He went to the console and recalled his message to
Jake. He liked the casual intimacy and warmth in the
words, so he simply changed the name to Kasidy and
flagged it for her attention.
    He was congratulating himself on navigating the
personal bumps of the storm rather well when he
reached the docking ring. O'Brien was waiting for
him.
    "I got your message," O'Brien said, even before
Sisko stepped off the turbolift. "Worf says only the

secondary crew is going along. He won't even let me
on board!"
    Sisko headed for the airlock where two of the
security guards were still posted. "My orders were for
the senior staff to remain here."
    "But Bashir's on board," O'Brien insisted. "You
have to let me go, too, sir. What if there are problems
with the shielding? Or the power relays?"
    "Then you better hope you've trained Kelly well,"
Sisko said sharply. "Because he'll have to take care of
it."
    "Captain, have a heart!" O'Brien clutched his arm
with one hand. "I can't stay here when she's out there
somewhere in trouble."
     Sisko stopped, keeping his voice low so the docking
technicians wouldn't overhear. "Request denied."
  O'Brien's hand tightened. "It's not a request!"
  "Mister, you should be glad I consider it a request."
  Sisko glanced down at his wrinkled uniform. "Do I
  have to order you to let go?"
    "What? Oh--" O'Brien backed off when he real-
ized what he was doing. "Sir, I didn't mean tom"
    "Get some sleep, Chief. When I return, I'll need
you to prepare the shields for storm impact."
    O'Brien hesitated. "You will find them, sir? You
won't come back without them?"
    Sisko tensed at the direct plea. 'TII do whatever it
takes to protect the station. You are dismissed, Chief
O'Brien."
    He turned away on his harsh order, resisting the
urge to glance back from the airlock. He knew

O'Brien was watching him. And he knew what the
chief would see: the same expression that Jennifer had
on her face that last time he rushed off for the bridge,
preparing to fight the Borg, a look that was somehow
hopeful and frustrated at the same time, relying on
him to save them all.

0

CHAPTER
      14

"I'M FINE," DAX automatically replied. After listening
to Keiko's worried inquires about her health for the
past few hours, Dax had stopped paying much atten-
tion. Since she couldn't remember the blackouts it
had soon stopped bothering her.
    But she knew Keiko was right to be concerned. She
had upped the critical levels in the medical data base,
bypassing the preliminary warnings as per Starfleet
regulations when the mission was of extreme urgency.
As long as her neural activity returned to acceptable
levels, she was determined to keep going through the
magnetic loops.
    "You were out for almost four minutes that time,"
Keiko told her.

     "Never mind about me. We're starting to get some
 patterns here between the angle of transverse waves to
 the current and the location of the exit point." Dax
 didn't like the way they kept losing touch with their
 markers. Distance did not seem to be the determining
 factor, adding yet another random variable to their
 analysis. "I wish I could boost the sensors just a little
 more."
    "You've already taken too much power from the
shields," Keiko protested. She kept checking the
readings on both their stasis belts.
    "It won't matter how much we're exposed," Dax
reminded her, "if we don't get back to the station. I
say we should try a new vector."
    They were near the periphery, toward the rear of
the storm. Despite Keiko's worry over the radiation,
she hadn't suggested leaving the plasma mass via the
short route. They both knew the storm would hit the
station before they could circle around.
    "This layer of plasma seems occupied with gather-
ing in new matter," Keiko commented. "It's filtering
it deeper as it degrades the atoms into charged
particles."
    "No sign of organic carbon chains out here," Dax
pointed out.
    "That's because there aren't many magnetic cur-
rents," Keiko agreed. "The catalyst recombination
must take place in the very heart of the plasma mass.
Then the carbon sequences are distributed via the
currents."
 "I hope we don't find out what it's like in the

center," Dax said seriously. "Tobin, one of my past
hosts, took part in a plasma research project for a
power facility. There were obscure indicators that an
inversion reaction was possible at maximum densi-
ties, but he was old at the time, and ! can't remember
the equation series. Isn't that typical?"
    Keiko rolled her eyes. "I can't believe how much
you do remember. All those lifetimes of experience."
    "It comes in handy sometimes," Dax agreed with a
gleeful grin.
    Keiko hesitated, but Dax had laid the groundwork
for her to feel comfortable enough to ask, "Don't you
find it intimidating at times? I mean, I would feel as if
someone were always looking over my shoulder,
knowing that the next hosts will have access to all of
my memories."
    "It's true that most initiates have a strong streak of
the exhibitionist in them." Dax laughed at Keiko's
sudden blush. "That's why politicians and artists are
usually willing to be the first hosts for young symbi-
onts. I know I've always had a passion for holopro-
grams, even before I wanted to be joined."
    "Just like Miles," Keiko said wistfully. "He loves
role playing. I'd rather direct a performance than be
in one."
  "I didn't know you liked the theater."
    Keiko smiled to herself. "A friend and I staged a
few Noh dramas on the Enterprise. It's the classical
Japanese form of storytelling, with the performers
using their appearance and movements to suggest the
essence of a tale."

  "I'd like to see one of your plays."
  "I think you'd like Noh," Keiko agreed.
  "Did Chief O'Brien perform, too?"
     Keiko wrinkled her nose. "No. He tried, but he
 hated practicing the speeches and movement pat-
 terns. And the masks drove him crazy. Not that I was
 surprised. He isn't fond of understatement or contem-
 plation in any form."
     "I always thought Chief O'Brien had quite a poetic
 streak in him," Dax protested. "He knows more
 ballads than anyone I've ever met. In another age, he
 probably would have been a wandering minstrel."
     "That might have been nomadic enough for him,"
 Keiko agreed dryly.
    Dax almost pointed out that it was Keiko who kept
leaving the station, not O'Brien. But the helm sig-
naled, saving her from too terrible a breach of polite-
ness. "Finally, we're entering a magnetic current."
    They were silent for a few moments, but there was
an uneasy tension in the air, as if something had been
left unfinished.
    Keiko sighed, admitting, "I hate this. It's like
everything else in my life. We are jumping blindly
through hoops, not knowing where we'll end up or
when it will ever stop."
    "You've already proven that the plasma is an organ-
ism. With each jump we're seeing how well the mass
is integrated."
 "That doesn't mean we're getting anywhere."
    "It's all in how you look at it," Dax said philosophi-
cally.

Keiko bit her tip. "I suppose, but do you remember
the Bajoran Gratitude Festival last year?"
    "You bet I do." Dax usually tried not to think about
the way she had felt that night, about how much she
wanted Benjamin.
    Keiko didn't notice her confusion. "That night
Miles offered to leave the station and move to Bajor,
but I told him we should keep doing this. Now, I'm
wondering if maybe I made a mistake putting our
lives on hold."
    "Is that what you did?" Dax asked, trying to push
the thought of Sisko away again.
    But before Keiko could answer, the sensors signaled
that a magnetic loop was forming. Dax transferred the
helm to Keiko. The length and intensity of her
seizures had varied with each location, but she wasn't
taking any chances.
    As Dax braced herself, the flash brightened the
interior and seemed to freeze. She exchanged a look
with Keiko at the appearance of the white viewscreen.
    "I can't find any of our dye markers," Keiko
announced.
    Dax took the helm and slowed the thrusters. They
had lost every one of their navigational points. "We're
in a complete void: no EM radiation, no particles, no
gravity pressure. A perfect vacuum."
     "Maybe this is the heart of the storm," Keiko
 suggested.
     "I doubt it. Of all the hypothetical conditions of the
 center of the storm, this is not one of them." Dax gave
 the uncooperative panels a sweeping glare. The void

 outside was so white it could have been of infinite
 depth or absolute flatness, squeezing them into two
 dimensionality. "Perhaps this is another consequence
 of the time-space inversion."
     Keiko sagged to one side, as if she were losing
 consciousness. Before Dax could touch her, she disap-
 peared.
 "Keiko!" she cried out, grabbing the empty seat.
 Keiko appeared on the viewscreen, standing in the
 field of white. She was looking around as if she
 couldn't see the runabout.
     Before Dax could think of a way to signal her,
 Keiko turned and ran away. She was waving as if she
 were trying to get someone's attention. Dax maneu-
 vered the thrusters to follow. Her eyes told her that
 another person was out there along with Keiko, but
 the sensors still weren't reading anything.
    Then she realized it was Chief O'Brien. When he
saw Keiko, he greeted her as if nothing unusual were
happening. Keiko hugged him as if she would never
let go, but just as Dax was maneuvering in with the
runabout, Keiko abruptly pushed her husband away
and started running.
    Dax considered staying with O'Brien, but the chief
headed after his wife. By the time they found Keiko
again, she was standing among a few dozen Klingons.
They were drinking and singing, floating in nothing-
ness, toasting with empty hands. Keiko shifted among
them when she saw O'Brien approaching. Though the
chief tried to reach her, Keiko deftly avoided him
while chatting and laughing with the Klingons. The

warriors seemed oblivious to O'Brien's presence, yet
they inadvertently kept him from getting to Keiko.
    O'Brien was obviously frustrated, but that was
nothing compared to Keiko's agonized expression
every time she looked his way. As if she had no other
choice but this.
    Dax covered her face, unable to watch their struggle
any longer.
  "Are you all right?" Keiko asked.
    Dax jerked up her head. Keiko was sitting next to
her and the sparkling plasma field back was on the
viewscreen.
  "What happened?" Dax asked.
    "You were unconscious for almost ten minutes this
time," Keiko said. "I got dizzy myself on that one."
    Thinking back, Dax asked, "Do you remember
being in the void?"
  Keiko frowned. "What void?"
  Dax tried to get her bearings.
     Keiko didn't give her time. "We're in an area of
 concentrated currents. We could enter one any sec-
 ond. Should I hold position to let you recover?"
   "No, I feel fine," Dax said automatically.
     "The computer said your neutral activity was the
 highest it's been so far. But it kept bobbing back down
 to acceptable levels."
     Dax had never experienced anything like this be-
 fore. "I saw you and Chief O'Brien in a white void.
 There were Klingons--"
     Keiko's eyes were wide. "Klingons? You must have
 been hallucinating."

 "No, it seemed to mean something," Dax told her.
 "! don't know how you came up with Klingons, but
 we were talking about Miles as we went through that
 last loop."
  Dax wrinkled her forehead. "We were?"
     "You mean you don't remember?" Keiko asked. "I
 think we should stop. This can't be good for you."
     "Temporary amnesia isn't uncommon following
 seizures," Dax told her. "I remember now that it's
 happened before. Besides, I don't care if I have
 convulsions. Plotting the currents is the only chance
 we have to get back in time."
     Keiko checked the helm. "We're entering another
 magnetic current."
     Dax braced herself again. "I'm wondering if the
 vision could be some sort of message from the plasma
 mass."
    Keiko didn't look as if she was in the mood to
listen. "I said this was an organism. I seriously doubt
that it's sentient."
    "That's not what I meant. It's conceivable that my
mind is detecting and interpreting the wave patterns
in much the same way the sensors do."
    Keiko looked at her as if she were crazy. "Are Trill
known for their telepathic ability?"
    "Not really." Dax grinned as the energy built in the
current. "But if we go through enough loops, maybe
you'll start seeing O'Brien, too."
    "No, thanks. I can wait," Keiko blurted out, as the
stepped leader set off the formation of another loop.
 This flash was more painful than usual. Dax

I [-II- I I-Ml"'tb I

squeezed her eyes shut behind her hand, but she could
swear she felt the photons penetrating her flesh and
bone, striking her sore optic nerves.
    "Where are we?" Keiko whispered, and Dax could
hear the echo of Molly's high voice in her ear.
    Blinking to clear her vision, what Dax heard was
impossible--people, the wheels of vehicles, activity
on the streets, even the breeze of a sunny afternoon.
    She realized they were lurching along in a cart
driven by an old Bajoran man. The rows of two-story
structures indicated it was a suburb, and when she
turned she saw the spires of the temple in the capital
city. It was a beautiful spring day on Bajor.
    "What's happening?" Keiko asked frantically,
clutching the edge of the board that served as a seat.
    "Maybe the plasma mass is trying to tell us some-
thing," Dax suggested. "Just try to relax. It doesn't
look as if we're in any danger."
 "What happened to the Rubicon?" Keiko asked.
 "We're probably still in it." Dax examined the
 Bajorans on the streets--children mostly, along with
 their parents. The houses were joined by small fenced
 yards lining the walkway. In the door of one up ahead,
 she recognized a familiar face. "There's Chief
 O'Brien again!"
     Keiko's mouth fell open when she saw her husband.
 He kissed a young girl good-bye, then a bouncing pre-
 school boy. They ran to the fence to wave after him.
     "Stop and let us off," Dax told the old man. When
 the cart pulled up, she motioned to Keiko. "Come on,
 it'll be faster on foot."

     But by the time they reached the yard in front of the
 townhouse, the children had returned to their playing
 and O'Brien had disappeared. Keiko was staring at
 the girl. "Molly? Is that you?"
     "Hi, Morn!" Molly sang out, absorbed in reassem-
 bling her bike. Apparently she had just added another
 gear. "Dad said you were going to meet him at the
 station."
     The little boy ran to the fence, jumping up and
 down. "Mommy, Mommy, look what I made!"
    Keiko reached out as if in a dream, taking the
grubby yellow figurine. Her eyes never left the boy's
face, full-cheeked and freckled like his father's, but
with dancing almond eyes like her own.
    Dax cleared her throat, reminding Keiko, "We need
to determine how to get out of the storm."
    Keiko was shaken out of her reverie. "This can't be
real!"
"No, but anything you can tell me may help."
She looked at the house. "This is the Denarii
quarter, where some of the Bajoran scientists live. I
guess I would have chosen to move here if Miles had
left the station and come to Bajor."
"Then perhaps this is an alternate time line."
Molly tightened the bolt and was finally able to give
her mother her full attention. "Aren't you going with
Dad?"
 "Where?" Keiko asked.
    "To the moon place," Molly said patiently, obvi-
ously mimicking Keiko's motherly inflections. "You
know, you do it every year."

    "It's our anniversary?" Keiko looked in the direc-
tion that O'Brien had gone. "He must have taken the
public transport to the station. Maybe we can catch
him before it leaves."
    Dax followed Keiko into bustling streets, watching
her signals for how to cut through the pedestrians.
Keiko seemed stunned, but at least she was working
with her on this.
    But when they reached the platform, the transport
had just left for the ground-to-space station. The
ticketmaster recognized Keiko and called her over to
give her a message padd that O'Brien had left behind.
    Dax shamelessly looked over Keiko's shoulder,
reading, "I'm not surprised you didn't come home
today. Maybe you were right last night when you said
you should have called it off on our wedding day
instead of giving in to everyone. I should have lis-
tened to you then. I'm going to the moon chalet, but if
you don't come I'll understand why. You've never
really been happy with me."
    Keiko clutched the padd tightly, insisting on han-
dling the arrangements to get them to the station as
fast as they could. Dax ended up with her in a hired
cart, hanging on for dear life as it swerved around
corners and between larger electronic transports. The
city was a blur, and Dax knew she would never be able
to retrace their path through the maze of entrances
and tunnels that took them through the sprawling
ground-to-space complex.
     Then Keiko led her on a bewildering race through
 the station, across ramps and along elevated walk-

 ways. It was a strange hybrid, with the ponderous
 Cardassian structures enlarged and embellished by
 the highly ornamental Bajoran architecture. But even
 Bajorans were unable to impose harmony on the
 disorder of a major port of call.
     They were stopped at an imposing gate by a uni-
 formed official. "Tickets?"
     "We don't have tickets," Keiko told her. "I'm trying
 to reach my husband before he leaves--"
     "You must have a ticket to proceed beyond this
 point." The official gestured back down the long hall,
 from where they had come. "You may purchase your
 tickets at any one of our commercial counters, or you
 may apply for space assistance from your corporate
 sponsor."
    "I'm not going anywhere. I just need to talk to
him," Keiko insisted. "It's the next moon shuttle, and
it's about to leave?
    The official checked her chronometer, then hesi-
tated at Keiko's pleading eyes. Dax had hope.
Bajorans were better than most when it came to
sympathizing with each other. Maybe living through
an occupation made it easier for people to understand
each other's pain.
    "I'll try to notify the shuttle docking port," the
official told Keiko. "If you'll please stand aside."
    The other official continued to allow passengers
through the gate, while the first murmured into her
comm device. Keiko slumped against the stone wall,
her chin nearly touching her chest. A strand of hair
had pulled loose and was hanging against her cheek.

    "They'll tell O'Brien you're here," Dax tried to
assure her.
    Keiko sighed. "Maybe. Then again, maybe we'll
have to go beg for a couple of tickets and fly to the
moon. And maybe by the time we get there, he'll have
given up and left for good."
    "Don't be such a pessimist," Dax told her. "We're
doing the best we can."
    Keiko finally looked up. "Don't you understand?
Miles and I have always done the best we could, but it
always ends like this, with me chasing after him and
neither of us knowing where we're going."
  Dax asked, "What is it you want?"
  "I want harmony. I want peace."
    Suddenly they were sitting in the runabout again,
staring up at the white void on the viewscreen.
    Dax didn't know what else to say. "Maybe you
picked the wrong guy."
    Keiko looked at the void as if she couldn't believe
her eyes. "Maybe you're right."

0

CHAPTER
      15

 "WHERE'S MOMMY?" MOLLY repeated sleepily.
    O'Brien avoided her eyes, reminded of how he had
stood in the portal and watched the Defiant go into
the storm without him. After he had returned to
Worf's quarters, he was able to sleep only fitfully,
finally getting up to check some shield computations
that were hammering at his head.
    Molly hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep when he
woke her up and got her dressed. He had managed to
brush out the tangles in her long hair, but she had
squirmed and whined the entire time, and she had
done nothing but ask for Keiko.
    He could make excuses for the little girl, knowing
that her circadian rhythm was still messed up from
leaving Bajor. He wondered if he should have let her

continue sleeping, but he hated the idea of leaving her
locked in the bedroom alone. What if she woke up
again?
    She was holding a granola bar in one hand, her
elbow propped on the table as if she had forgotten it
was there. He had dialed for some fruit and granola
last night so he could be sure something would be
waiting when she woke up.
"Eat up," he urged. "We have to get to work."
Molly gave the stale bar a dubious look then threw
it against the wall. It shattered on impact, spraying
nuts and rolled oats in every direction.
    Moll-y[" he exclaimed reproachfully. She started to
cry.
    O'Brien decided that he had maintained enough
continuity in his daughter's daily habits. He picked
her up to leave, wondering again where Captain Ari
had gone. He was sure Worf hadn't returned to his
quarters after the Defiant had departed.
    He waited a while for a turbolift, but one never
showed up even after he keyed in his priority code.
Molly fell back to sleep as he carried her through the
habitat ring, but when they reached the Promenade
the noise was loud enough to disturb her. She was
 yawning and pouting when they reached Odo's office.
   Odo sighed when O'Brien brought Molly in.
   "Where else can I take her?" he demanded in a
   rush, letting her down. "You don't expect me to leave
   her with strangers, do you?"
     "No. She can stay with me." Odo leaned over.
 "Will you keep me company for a while?"

     O'Brien expected the girl to pitch an absolute fit. By
 rights, she deserved one. But apparently she had
 gotten used to Odo's grim features. O'Brien had seen
 grown humanoids tremble under that gaze, but Molly
 simply exclaimed, "Let's play pony!"
     "That's a good girl." O'Brien tried to give her a kiss
 good-bye, but she twisted away from his hands. She
 ran to the desk, hiding behind Odo's chair.
     "Molly? O'Brien felt helpless. When had his child
 become such a stranger? "Molly, come here and say
 good-bye," he insisted, walking towards her. "Daddy
 will come back for you soon."
     "No!" she shouted, holding on to the chair as if for
 dear life.
    O'Brien hesitated, then circled the desk. He only
wanted to give her a kiss.
  "Go away!" she shrieked, hiding her face. "No!"
    "Come on, Molly," O'Brien coaxed. "I know you
just miss your mommy."
    "No, no, no! I want pony rides!" She dashed past
him, clutching at Odo's leg. "Pony! I want my pony!"
    "Hush, Molly!" But O'Brien wasn't sure she heard
him.
    Odo stood there stiffly, as if he didn't know what to
do.
    O'Brien took her arm, ordering, "Behave yourselff
Stop it right now."
    Her shrieks raised another few decibel levels. Even
he pulled back. "I hate you! Go away! I want my po-
nee!"
 Odo sighed, and with an apologetic glance at

O'Brien, he swung the girl onto his back. He bobbed
up and down slightly, a token gesture at horse-like
movements.
    "Ya! Gi'up!" Molly exclaimed. She was breathing
hard and tears were shining on her face, but she
wasn't screaming anymore. She completely ignored
her father.
    "Only once around the paddock," Odo told her.
"Then your horse has to rest."
  Solemnly she nodded~ "Gi'up!"
    Odo gravely began walking the perimeter of his
office. O'Brien watched with sullen resentment. He
knew Molly didn't hate him, but he didn't like her
saying so in front of Odo. He could have played
horsey with Molly only she hadn't asked him. Then
again, he hadn't seen her awake for two minutes since
she got to the station. Could he really blame her for
attaching herself to Odo? Shouldn't he be grateful that
there was someone she liked to be with?
     "Not now!" Odo snapped as a guard tried to ask
 him a question. By the time he returned to his desk,
 there were three of them waiting to speak to him.
 O'Brien dreaded the scene Molly would make when
 Odo tried to stop.
     But Molly didn't utter a word when Odo let her
 descend to the chair. She contented herself with
 slipping under the desk, disappearing from his sight.
     "Thanks, Constable," O'Brien said, rather shame-
 faced. Apparently the shapeshifter made a better
 parent than he did.
  "Think nothing of it, Chief," Odo demurred. He

 seemed more interested in dispatching the guard
 details than talking about Molly, so O'Brien con-
 tented himself with one more nod of thanks, craning
 his head to try to see his little girl. "Bye, Molly. I'll be
 back for you soon."
     She solemnly gazed up as if not recognizing him.
 Then she went back to work, busily making a tent out
 of a blanket using the drawers of the desk and the
 chair.
     O'Brien left, feeling about as low as they came. As if
 things weren't bad enough already, he ran into Worf
 in the doorway.
    O'Brien shoved past him, making Worf stumble
into the side of the door. There were so many people
staggering around from the shock fronts that no one
paid much attention, that is, except for Worf.
    "Sorry," O'Brien drawled sarcastically. "I could be
helping out on the Defiant, but no, you made sure I
was left hanging around here getting in everyone's
way."
    Worf's eyes darkened. "I could not allow you to
board the Defiant."
    "Oh, you couldn't, could you?" O'Brien asked in a
low voice. "Wouldn't you have done anything to save
the mother of your child?"
    Worf glared at the mention of Kay'lar. "How dare
you speak of that!"
    "Maybe I'm out of line," O'Brien agreed, "but you
could have helped an old friend last night. Sisko was
half convinced to take me along, and if I'd been on the
bridge, he would have said yes."

 "I was following orders."
    "You follow orders only when it suits you." O'Brien
leaned in closer. "There are times when you have to
follow a deeper law."
    Worf stared at him, caught by the truth of the
accusation. Then he shook it off, not so much backing
down as dismissing O'Brien from serious considera-
tion. But his parting glare said that it wasn't over
between them.
    O'Brien couldn't stop him from going through the
door, but as it closed, he swung around and slammed
his fist into the plassteel window. It rang out, vibrat-
ing in its frame. He could see the startled faces of
everyone inside looking out at him.
    Shaking his fist, he stepped away from the window
before painfully leaning over, clutching his wrist.
Good thing he hit the plassteel rather than the titani-
um beam. Maybe he could get away with not going to
the infirmary--if the throbbing ever let up.
    "I'm glad I moved out of the way," someone said
right behind him. "A blow like that could have
crushed me."
    O'Brien looked back, then down at Captain Ari.
"Pardon me! I didn't see you there."
     "So I gathered." The Sattar didn't seem disturbed.
 He leaned back against the beam. "I've been waiting
 to visit my wayward senior mate. Commander Worf
 agreed to allow me inside. That other one, that shifty
 creature, he was most uncooperative."
     O'Brien politely nodded, examining his hand. It
 was stiffening up and the second knuckle was swelling

in a bad way. He would need the full use of his hand
today in order to strengthen the shields. The main
power conduits would have to be linked into the
secondary generators to cover bit losses in microwave
transmission. Maybe he could go snag Rom again...
    "You were arguing with the Klingon," Ari com-
mented. "I thought you were friends. Last night you
assisted him."
    "We've known each other for almost seven years,"
O'Brien admitted. "Seven years!"
  "You've been on other posts with him?"
    O'Brien grinned in spite of himself. "On the Enter-
prise. Back before I became the glorified custodian of
this station."
    "That was when you were a warrior," Ari said, as if
he understood. "And now, your friend has injured
you in some way?"
    O'Brien shrugged, irritated by that casual refer-
ence, as if now he was an ex-warrior.
    "It is difficult to deal with Klingons," Ari acknowl-
edged. "Their sense of honor serves their own needs.
You must accommodate yourself to their codes rather
than asking them to understand your own."
    "I suppose," O'Brien agreed. "But isn't everyone
that way?"
    The Sattar smiled. "Of course. Then you under-
stand what I'm suggesting. If you want something
from the Klingon, put it in his own terms. Make it a
matter of his honor, and he will do whatever it takes
to salvage his pride."
 "I don't want anything from Worf," O'Brien de-

nied, remembering this was a Sattar he was talking to.
Their small size and fluffy, innocent appearance was
what lulled people into thinking they were harmless.
"In fact," O'Brien finished. "The commander is prob-
ably right. I should get back to work."
    O'Brien turned on his heel, shaking off Ari's insinu-
ations against Worf. First he had to go to the infirma-
ry to get his hand fixed, then stop by Quark's for Rom
before rounding up his crew. They only had the rest of
the morning before the storm would hit.

    Worf did not appreciate being shoved around by
O'Brien, especially after he had relayed the chief's
message to Sisko and gotten subtly rebuked for his
efforts. And he still had not gotten over Cali's infiltra-
tion of his logs. He clenched up every time he thought
of her reading his personal meditations on Alexander,
on the Klingon situation, on Deanna. It was intoler-
able!
    Silently fuming, he waited until Odo had completed
his orders to the guards and dismissed them to their
posts. Then he handed over the data clip. "This is my
report on perimeter patrol, as of oh six hundred
hours."
    "How industrious of you," Odo told him. "I usually
rely on my guards to report on the status of the
station."
  "These are emergency conditions."
    Odo held the clip in two fingers. "And did you find
anything that needs my attention?"
  "Yes, I found several questionable situations, such

 as the continued presence of evacuees in the connect-
 ing tunnels."
     'Tm aware of that, Commander. Guards have
 already been dispatched to remove those people to
 transient quarters." Odo tossed the clip onto his desk,
 but he did not sit down. Molly had appropriated his
 chair, but Worf believed Odo was trying to make a
 point.
     "Commander," Odo began, making it clear his
 request was formal. "I would prefer to be notified
 whenever there is a prisoner transfer to my brig."
    Worf almost sighed. "Zeischner is a competent
officer. It was not necessary to disturb you."
    "Nevertheless, in the future I would like to be
informed. It is part of my duties as security chief on
this station."
    "Agreed." Worf would have agreed to anything at
that moment to get on with it. "What is the status of
the Klingon prisoners?"
    "They are packed in fairly tightly, but at least they
can bounce off one another. Apparently even Kling-
OhS have a threshold of pain."
    Worf could have sworn there was a trace of satisfac-
tion in Odo's voice. "I would like an hourly log of
their conversations."
    "You're going to listen to everything?" Odo asked
incredulously. "I'm already running a pattern recog-
nition program, and there's been nothing of signifi-
cance so far."
    "There are Klingon codes and words that you may
not know," Worf told him.

 "If you find any," Odo agreed, "please inform me."
 Worf nodded shortly. "And the Sattar?"
    "The senior mate of the Reaper, "Odo said thought-
fully. "She is in holding cell three along with a Risan
couple caught picking pockets in Quark's. I believe
Quark was taking a cut until they lifted latinurn from
the Dabbo table."
    Worf thought Call should feel right at home with
them. "Captain Ari is waiting outside to see his
officer. I believe he will not fight the charges."
    "But you're considering dropping them," Odo
guessed.
    Worf wondered how he could tell. "Cali should pay
for her crimes. She assaulted me and she broke into
my private files."
    Odo consulted his console. "You have the rest of
this shift to decide. Then the charges will be recorded
with the proper authorities. There are both civil and
criminal accusations, so it could take several days to
sort out."
    "I will let you know my decision," Worf agreed.
"First, I would like to hear what she has to say to
Captain Ari."
    "As would I," Odo murmured. "It's hard to believe
a Sattar would act without her captain's express
approval. But what have they to gain by her incarcera-
tion?"
     Worf shook his head as he went to get Captain Ari.
 He had been wondering that himself. He had even
 woken, after a nervous half sleep on the floor of
 Sisko's office in Ops, dreaming of Captain Alons and

            ~USAN VV RIGHT

Sebas drinking from the bottle of Hum'tas in his
quarters and rifling through his computer files. A
childish dream, but a disturbing one.
    When Captain Ari entered, he immediately said, "I
must apologize again to both of you. My senior mate
has been under a great deal of stress. Recently she was
the cause of a cargo loss through her own negligence,
and I'm afraid the other seniors are realizing their
folly in promoting one so young to such a position of
authority. And yet, her mother was a superb leader."
    Worf remembered what Cali had said last night
about the Klingons taking her mother away. It had
also been a Klingon betrayal that had killed his own
parents while they were living in the Kitomer colony.
    Ari shook his head sadly. "If her behavior has been
erratic lately, perhaps we have forgiven her too much,
indulged her too often in her whims."
    "If you'll excuse me for saying so," Odo retorted
dryly, "her behavior has escalated beyond erratic and
has now reached criminal proportions."
    The captain lifted one hand as if there was nothing
he could say to refute it. The proud Sattar almost
looked humbled, and he turned away to hide his
discomfort. "Despite the trouble she causes, she is a
valuable member. I would not like to leave her
behind."
    Worf refrained from answering, accompanying
Captain Ari into the brig. Odo ordered one of the
guards to watch Molly so he could follow.
 Cali rushed forward when she saw her captain,

managing to greet him with grateful delight while
glaring past him at Worf and Odo.
    From the corner of his eye, Worf could tell that the
Klingons had seen him enter. Though no sounds
penetrated the force field, every ritual gesture of
disrespect and disgust was aimed in his direction.
    But first, the Sattar. "When can I get out?" Call
asked Aft. "I'm going crazy in here with these two."
She gestured to the Risan couple.
    Ari glanced back at Worf. "You've been charged
with assault and trespassing. You could be here for
quite a while."
    "If the assault is proved to be premeditated," Odo
put in helpfully, "she could be sentenced to time in a
penal colony."
    "Don't I get some privacy to consult with my legal
advisor?" Call asked. "Or does Starfleet deny that
tOO?"
    "This is a favor," Odo informed her. "You'll get
your consultation after the official charges are re-
corded."
    Cali appealed to the Risan couple slumped against
each other on the bed. "Aren't they keeping us here in
unsafe conditions? Not enough food, only one bed for
three people--"
     "Everyone on the station is overcrowded," Woff
 interrupted, tired of this nonsense. "I offered you
 better quarters, but you attacked me."
     Cali appealed to Aft. "See? He's been out to get me
 since he couldn't find anything on the Reaper. Just
 look what he's done to those Klingons?

 government won't allow inter-ship alliances among
 the Sattar, so we will never be able to obtain good
 contracts, only bits and pieces left over by the organ-
 ized shipping lines."
    "Perhaps you could apply to the Klingon High
Council."
    "The Sattar who go to Qo'noS never return." Ari
gave him a bleak smile. "I am not brave enough for
that, Commander."
    "I, too, have had my dealings with the council,"
Worf admitted. "There is much that has gone astray
within my people. But I am not to blame for your
misfortunes, and yet she attacked me!"
    "Are you not to blame, perhaps more than any-
one?" Ari asked in a deceptively mild voice. "You are
a member of Starfleet, supporting a Federation of
people who pride themselves on their honor and
justice to all. Yet the Federation formed an alliance
with the Klingons while they hold my world and
others in virtual slavery. Why does the Federation
support this infamy, turning a blind eye to the plight
of the Sattar?"
    Worf couldn't answer that. Everyone knew about
the Sattar.
    Ari pressed, "Perhaps Starfleet allows it for the sake
of a 'larger' peace. If so, then tell me, Commander,
what right do you have to decide that my people will
suffer for your peace? Is that honorable?"
    Worf could only stare at the Sattar. Thankfully,
Odo broke in and urged the captain on his way. At the
door, the security chief told the captain, "You will be

I ill' I I'tVlVt'~l

notified by this evening about what will be done next
with your senior mate."
    Ari pulled away with the dignity of a senior Sattar.
Nodding solemnly to Worf, then Odo, he declined
further assistance to the door.
    Wolf felt something and looked down. Molly was
standing right next to him. "Nice pony," she told him,
patting his knee. "Good pony."
    Worf carefully put down the clip and left without a
word. Some things were too much for anyone to
expect him to accept. He would be fine once he had a
brisk walk around the docking ring.

CHAPTER
      16

T~tE DEFIANT'S ~ viewer showed the speckled plas-
ma field, complete with flares and clusters and rip-
pling diffractions of every scientific description.
    Dr. Bashir could have watched it for hours, mesme-
rized by the shifting mosaic of colored lights. It was
ironic that within this so-called blackbody, there was
such a display of pure energy constantly colliding,
combining, and deconstructing in vividly instantane-
ous reactions.
    But Bashir didn't have much time to look at the
viewer. He was at the main tactical station, and
though he was unfamiliar with the primary readout
for the sensors, he trusted in Dax's console to alert
him to the important things. He also linked in the
medical data base, running a diagnostic on the poten-

tial bio-effects of the infinite combinations of waves
and subatomic particles within the plasma.
    "Still no sign of the radiation that poisoned the
Klingons," he informed the captain.
    Sisko was also examining the sensor data. "Odd.
Only the most cursory of readings, despite the photo-
conductive activity."
    Bashir agreed, "Too many random oscillations are
distorting the base frequencies--"
    The Defiant lurched without warning. Bashir barely
caught the console while Ensign DeGroodt was flung
from the helm into the side railing. When Bashir saw
that she immediately began to push herself up, he
stayed at his station, letting Lieutenant Clan'cee from
the secondary tactical console assist her. He was glad
that Clan'cee was along. He was one of the best
physicists assigned to DS9. Bashir knew he would
need all the help he could get to decipher the readings
on this storm.
  "I'm sorry, sir," DeGroodt apologized.
    Bashir added, "I think sensors got something that
time."
     "What's causing it, Doctor.'?" Sisko was as irritated
 as the rest of them by the unpredictable course
 changes.
     Bashir checked Clan'cee's notations as he reported,
 "It seems to occur whenever the density of a magnetic
 current reaches a certain threshold point. Since the
 waves are moving faster than light, there is a signifi-
 cant delay in the reaction of our inertial dampers."

     "Can't we avoid the currents?'~ Sisko asked
 DeGroodt.
    She was settling back into helm control. "I'm
trying, Captain. But we get caught up and swept along
before I can pull free. We're between two currents
now, and if they converge... but it looks as though
the port current will dissipate before that happens."
    Clan'cee agreed. "The currents form and dissipate
so rapidly that it's difficult to track a path through
them."
    Sisko glanced over at Bashir. "The incidents seem
to be increasing as we penetrate deeper into the
plasma."
    "I suggest we hold position here," he replied.
"Clan'cee and I have prepared a probe to release into
one of the magnetic currents. That should give us
more information on what causes the subspace dis-
ruptions."
    "Proceed." Sisko frowned at the viewer as if he
were determined to subdue the storm singlehandedly
if it came down to that.
    Bashir coordinated the probe launch with Clan'cee
and DeGroodt as they skirted the current and maneu-
vered away before being drawn into the turbulence.
The probe shot off, accelerating much faster than the
sensors had recorded the velocity of the electromag-
netic waves within the current.
    Before Bashir could question the anomaly, a bril-
liant flash brightened the main viewer.
 "Report!" Sisko ordered.

    Bashir couldn't see his readings. "That exceeded
the photoelectric threshold."
    "I'm getting a high incidence of scattering,"
Clan'cee called out. "EM readings from the probe
went off the scale."
    Bashir was finally able to see to confirm, "We've
lost telemetry with the probe."
    The viewer had returned to normal brightness.
"The current is gone as well," Sisko said, seeing the
difference in the particle motion.
    "I believe the probe's sensors set up a feedback
loop, pushing the particles in the magnetic current to
maximum ionization," Bashir explained. "That flash
was a sort of rip in subspace, transferring the energy
radically away from the particle flow."
  "Transferring it where?" Sisko asked.
    "That's impossible to tell," Bashir admitted. "The
Defiant must be too large to penetrate the rips. When
one forms, it deflects the Defiant away, causing our
change in course."
    "What about the runabout? Is it small enough to get
through?"
    Bashir reluctantly nodded. "I believe so. The Kling-
ons kept raving about being caught in a maze that
they couldn't get out of. That would make sense if
their yacht was transported through the subspace
rips."
     "This storm is half a sector long." Sisko's jaw
 clenched~ "The Rubicon could be anywhere."
  Bashir realized that Clan'cee was looking in his

 direction, waiting for him to inform the captain of the
 meaning of the probe's readings. Bashir considered
 taking Sisko into the lounge to tell him, but if
 Clan'cee knew, then the others would soon find out.
     "Captain, according to the data from the probe, the
 station is in danger." He rushed to get it out all at
 once. "The plasma energy is comparable to that of a
 dwarf star. The atmosphere of Bajor may protect the
 inhabitants, but I doubt there will be anything left of
 the station or the wormhole. This storm is a natural
 cleansing agent, ionizing every particle in its path."
    "Can't we stop it somehow?" Sisko demanded. "Or
try to shift its course?"
    "I don't even know what keeps it going." At the
sudden hush, Bashir added, "Maybe with more data
and using the biometric analysis... maybe we can
come up with something. We have plenty of probes to
get samples of the cascade bursts that precipitate the
rip in subspace."
    The tension on the bridge was already running
high, but Bashir's analysis seemed to cast a pall over
everyone. Except for the beeping of the computers,
there was absolute silence as the captain considered
the situation.
    DeGroodt turned to offer, "Sir, I can try to hold us
closer to the probes if that would cut down on
interference."
    Bashir immediately shook his head, picking up his
medical tricorder to analyze the atmosphere of the
bridge. "I recommend we position the Defiant much

further away. The cascade burst appears to be the
source of the dangerous alpha radiation."
    Sisko stood up. "Why hasn't the medical alert
warned us of excessive radiation exposure?"
    "Because the contaminated molecules are currently
in a metastable state. They disassociate after several
minutes, and the effect is slow enough to be recorded
as within acceptable levels." He scanned himself and
compared the result with his normal cellular readings.
As he glanced up, he caught a worried glance from one
of the ensigns as she hurried off the bridge with a clip
in hand.
 "What is it, Doctor?" Sisko asked.
    "Tertiary ionization is already occurring within our
bodies. At this point I'm unable to determine the
progress of the chemical transformations."
    "Can you adjust shields to block the alpha radia-
tion?" Sisko asked.
    Lieutenant Kelly shifted uneasily at the engineering
station, looking as if he wanted to crawl out of his
own skin. "I can cover that frequency range, but the
oscillations rebound all over the board."
    "I'm not sure we can shield against this sort of
radiation," Bashir agreed. "It's practically designed
to penetrate and disintegrate matter. The shields may
even be accelerating the process."
    Sisko swept a glance at the bridge crew. "Then we
had better work fast."
  "Aye, sir," Bashir agreed, along with the others.
  "Attach a subspace beacon to every probe," Sisko

ordered. "And send burst communiqu6s into the
magnetic currents. Maybe one of them will get
through to the Rubicon."
    Sisko sat back down, letting the rest stay unspoken.
There was no telling what danaage had already been
done to Dax and Keiko. Or what additional exposure
would do to the crew of the Defiant.
    Sisko rested his chin in his hand. At that moment
Bashir was sincerely glad that he was a doctor and not
the captain of this ship. It was hard enough dealing
with life and death on an individual basis. He
wouldn't want to make that decision for forty people
at one time, much less the thousands of people
waiting back on the station.

    We're going to die, Keiko thought. I pushed my way
on to this mission, and now we're going to die because
of it.
    She had realized it was impossible to plot an
internal map of the currents. They formed and dissi-
pated so rapidly that the computer couldn't calculate
the shifts in the patterns, not with the meager fifty or
sixty markers the sensors could detect at any one
time. And Dax couldn't take much more of---
    "This way!" Dax cried out, making Keiko jump.
The helm was locked from her control, but she started
to input commands, acting as if she were flying the
runabout. "Don't worry. We'll get there before the
chief leaves this time."
    "Dax," Keiko said soothingly. "It's all right. You
can relax."

    Dax glanced at her as if trying to remember some,-
thing. Then she stared back up at the viewscreen,
apparently seeing much more than Keiko could in the
beautiful plasma particles.
    "If we don't catch him, then we'll know for sure,"
Dax insisted. "But we have to get past the Klingons
first!"
    She went into a flurry of activity, trying to prevent
some imagined catastrophe. Keiko had rerouted the
computer relays to her station, but just to be certain
Dax didn't somehow gain access, she had manually
disconnected the main power node in the junction
under her console.
    Yet Keiko kept an eye on what Dax did, recognizing
the command to cut power to the warp engines, which
weren't on line in the first place. Keiko had already
tried to engage warp drive, hoping the field could
repell the particles. But the plasma disrupted the
continuity of the field before it could form.
    Then Dax tried to fire the torpedoes. Keiko hadn't
tried that, but she wasn't willing to use brute force
even at this point.
    She moved to the rear of the runabout to ask,
"Computer, is it possible for me to sedate Command-
er Dax?"
    "Neurological activity indicates sedation would be
unadvisable at this time."
 "What is her current condition?" Keiko asked.
    "Levels of tertiary radiation have risen above ac-
ceptable limits."
  "You've already told me that," Keiko sighed.

 "What do I do about it? And don't tell me to evacuate
 the vicinity. That's impossible."
     "Continued proximity to alpha radiation will accel-
 erate tissue irradiation," the computer responded.
    Keiko turned to the small viewscreen, activating it.
"Display on graph." The upward arc of alpha radia-
tion poisoning was erratic but unmistakable. Deadly.
    As if one look at Dax didn't make that perfectly
clear.
    Keiko asked, "Computer, is it possible that Dax's
hallucinations are some sort of communication with
the storm?"
    "Insufficient data," it replied with maddening un-
concern.
    "No. Extrapolate," Keiko urged. "Could a plasma-
based being communicate via EM waves directly to
the brain of a Trill?"
  "Insufficient data," it repeated.
    "You want data, just scan Dax!" Keiko glared
around the runabout, wishing there were a focus for
her frustration.
    "Commander Dax is suffering from sporadic elec-
tromagnetic stimulation of the neural tissue, causing
spontaneous dissociative experiences."
    "You mean hallucinations." She hadn't really be-
lieved Dax's wild theory, but part of her had been
desperately hoping that Dax was accomplishing
something toward their escape.
    She returned to stand by her station, entering the
command to maneuver the Rubicon from the magnet-
ic current, letting them drift. There was no use going

through more loops. It only made Dax worse, and it
would take weeks for them to plot the interior of this
complex organism. She was certain now that the
plasma mass was an organism. Nothing else could be
this integrated or intricately patterned while main-
taining its rapid motion.
    Next to her, Dax started hitting her touchpads as if
realizing she was locked out. Keiko quickly slid into
her seat before Dax could try to switch stations.
    "We've stopped," Dax said, looking at the swirling
plasma patterns. "How can we get out if you keep
doing everything for him?"
    Carefully, Keiko assured her, "We'll get moving in
a minute. Just give me a chance to plot the shortest
direction out of here."
    "I know how to get out," Dax replied, her eyes wide
and dazed. "I'm not sure how to get in."
    Keiko input the coordinates of the nearest storm
edge and held onto manual control in order to maneu-
ver around the magnetic currents that formed. "You
should rest for a while," she suggested. "You've been
working for hours without a break."
    "Have I?" Dax stiffly stood up, stretching her arms
to the ceiling. "I believe it."
  "Why don't you lie down on the bench?"
    "What for?" Dax asked. "You aren't trying to pull
something, are you?"
"I just said you should lie down and get some rest."
"You're not going to leave me out here." Dax was
looking at her suspiciously. "Not after we've come all
this way together."

             ..~ U~AN vvKIrdM I

  "I'd never do that!"
     Dax narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't believe what
 I've seen some people do when they're desperate."
     "I would believe anything right now," Keiko said
 faintly. Even without the influence of radiation-
 induced hallucinations, she had managed to come up
 with more than a dozen gruesome scenarios for what
 would happen in the next few hours. Top on the list
 was the image of a two-billion-volt plasma arc spark-
 ing between the station and the wormhole.  "You need me," Dax reminded her.
"I know. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Dax seemed satisfied with that, but Keiko felt even
worse. She had really meant it, but in every sense of
the word, Dax was no longer here.
    All of her paranoid talk was making Keiko edgy, as
if she weren't already numb enough from lack of
sleep, and sick to her stomach from the surges of
adrenaline that kept insisting she was about to die.
She had partly turned while piloting, to make sure
Dax didn't do anything unusual, but out of the corner
of her eye she caught the blip on the sensors.
    It looked like an indicator for a subspace transmis-
sion, but when she did a sensor sweep, nothing was
there. Then she played back the sensor log, and saw
that she hadn't imagined it.
    Changing course, she retraced their route back
toward the last magnetic current they had passed.
Sensors picked up traces of a transmission signal that
had degraded to the point that the computer didn't
recognize it as decryptable codes. It could be another

strange by-product of this highly unusual plasma
storm, but then again...
    Impulsively Keiko turned the runabout and traced
the magnetic current upstream until she reached a
point where the sensors recorded the highest incident
of fragments.
    Taking the runabout directly into the current, she
plowed through the turbulence against the directional
flow, trying to reach the center where the fragments
were most densely clustered.
    Radiation readings shot off the scale as the engines
fought the surge of the current. The disruption started
to cause the formation of another loop right behind
the runabout.
    Keiko routed maximum power to the engines, but it
was too late. The runabout was sucked backward
through the loop.
    After the burst of light had faded, sensors picked up
a much clearer indication of the transmission frag-
ments in this area. She traced them toward another
dissipating magnetic current, but she hesitated to take
the runabout into it. What if the fragments were only
an echo of their own attempts to hail the station?
    She almost regretted her impulsive action. The
rough navigational map of the plasma storm indi-
cated that the Rubicon was further away from the
periphery than before. Now she would have to plot a
new course to get them out of the plasma, unless she
followed the fragments through another loop.
     Dax was huddled on the bench in the back, mutter-
 ing orders as she stared at the blinking display on the

 transporter console. Keiko hoped she wasn't getting
 any ideas about leaving, and she quickly entered a
 command to route transporter control to her console.
    If she kept going through loops, she would surely
kill Dax. Yet they would both die if they didn't get out
of the plasma mass. Everything kept twisting back on
itself until Keiko didn't know what to trust. A famil-
iar feeling, especially during the past few years. She
felt cramped into her own existence, like a bonsai,
dwarfed and twisted while struggling to grow. She
knew what it was like to be windblown, gnarled, and
stunted by adverse conditions, forced to bend to
unrelenting forces. Yet bonsai were exquisite crea-
tions. Tiny miracles, the same way that Molly's smile
was a tiny miracle every day.
    "You have to stop!" Dax demanded behind her.
"You were right, Keiko, it's not working. You have to
walk away, it's the only chance we have to get out of
here."
      Dax tried to stand, but she collapsed back on the
bunk, her hand reaching out imploringly.  "Is something wrong?" Keiko asked.
    "You have to give him up," Dax whispered. "You
almost did once before. The day you got married."
    Keiko's mouth opened. "How did you know about
that?"
    Dax struggled to concentrate, to keep her eyes
focused, as if to prove she knew what she was saying.
"You have to leave him. Or everyone will die."
 Keiko didn't even have to think about it. Every part

             I MIr I LIVlI"12~ I

of her being rejected the idea. She and Miles belonged
together.
    "I'm not walking away from anything," she told
Dax.
    She changed vector to intersect the current where
the transmission fragments were rapidly dissolving.
The engines strained as they fought the electromag-
netic waves, but Keiko held the helm steady. She was
ready this time and when the loop formed behind
them, she let the runabout go through.
    Her head was swimming when the flash dissipated,
and the medical alert was sounding a new alarm.
Before Keiko could ask the computer what was hap-
pening, Dax rolled off the bench. Her arms and legs
were twitching.
    "Computer, what can I do for Dax?" She ran to her
side.
"One cc of monocloride may inhibit the seizure."
Keiko ordered the helm to stop so they wouldn't
run into the new current forming in front of them.
She grabbed the med-kit on her way back, fumbling
with the hypo. But once it was injected into Dax's
neck, the distressing shaking began to ease off.
     Keiko checked her pulse--rapid but strong. She
 was tossing her head, so Keiko stroked her hair, trying
 to soothe her exactly as she would for Molly. Dax
 looked much younger when she was unconscious.
     Trying to be gentle, she pulled Dax back up on the
 bench. It wasn't easy, but she finally got the com-
 mander secured with the straps. If she had any doubts

 before, now she knew: the loops were definitely killing
 Dax.
     Back at the helm, the dye marker map showed that
 the runabout had moved quite some distance to the
 rear on that last trip, but sensors were picking up even
 more traces of transmission signals behind her. She
 tracked them down until the computer was finally
 able to identify them as part of the routine hail used
 by Star fleet.
    Keiko wondered if she were unduly twisted and
hardened, but she already knew what she was going to
do. She would kill both of them to save the station,
and watching Dax die in pieces would be the hardest
part. But she wouldn't give up.
    Her teeth clenched as she swung the runabout into
the nearest current. It was one of the strongest ones
they had encountered. The engines strained but they
weren't able to hold position. A stepped leader
formed right behind them, and Keiko transferred
power from the shields so they wouldn't slip past
before the loop appeared. Shields fell to fifty-three
percent.
    As the runabout went through the loop, she felt
herself losing consciousness.
  "Welcome back, Rubicon."
    She was hearing things. She shook her head at the
viewscreen as the image of a ship appeared, then was
gone in the midst of the plasma. She was afraid she
was starting to hallucinate, like Dax. At least she
wasn't convulsing--
 Her eyes blurred and, like a three-dimensional

             1 HE I EMPIEST

mirage, a vessel shifted into view among the dancing
particles.
 "It's the Defiant," Keiko whispered.
 "Rubicon, can you read us?"
    She had left the communications channel open to
track the transmission fragments. "Yes! Defiant, we're
here!"
    As the Defiant maneuvered closer, Keiko checked
the map of the markers. They had returned to the
leading edge of the storm.
    "Yes," Keiko repeated, just for herself. "We're
here."

CHAPTER
      17

"... AND ADJUST THE regeneration to include..."
    "... will perhaps counteract the affects of tertiary
radiation..."
    Dax heard the voices and realized she was no longer
on the Rubicon. It sounded like the infirmary on the
station, and she had to wonder if this was yet another
installment in the epic O'Brien romance. She already
felt as if she had followed them through the system
and back without accomplishing anything.
    Somewhere above and behind her, Bashir was say-
ing, "There seems to be a low spontaneous reversion
to normal composition."
    "What if the thresholds are crossed?" someone
asked.
 Bashir said quietly, "I won't let that happen."

    Dax swallowed and had trouble moving her dry
lips. "Did she do it?" she whispered.
 "She's trying to say something," someone said.
    It was hard to get the words out. "Did she give him
up?"
 "Dax, it's Julian. Can you hear me?"
Dax tried to focus. "Of course I can hear you."
His hand pressed down on her shoulder, but she
hardly felt it for the burning, tearing pain that flashed
through her entire body. "What's wrong with me?"
she asked through clenched teeth.
    "Trill are particularly susceptible to the tertiary
radiation produced by alpha electromagnetic waves."
    Her muscles spasmed, and her back arched under
the strain. She tried to breathe through the terrible
sensation of her insides squeezing out through her
pores.
    "According to the medical logs," Bashir said.
"You've been suffering from electrochemical neural
stimulation."
    "Oh, really?" Dax panted. "I thought I was talking
to the plasma gods. Are you telling me I made it all
up?"
  "Delirium can be a strange thing," Bashir agreed.
  "Glad I'm all better now."
    Bashir made a point of wiping the sweat from her
brow. Dax didn't bother to thank him.
    "Regeneration is a complex process," he explained.
"Each of the DNA nucleotides containing radioactive
phosphorus must be traced and the frequency ana-

 lyzed. Then they're physically matched to the nearest
 'neighbor' that wasn't degraded by the tertiary radia-
 tion. Only after that process can the damaged DNA
 chains be relinked."
     "It sounds charming." Dax was unable to suppress
 a groan. "Are we almost done?"
     Bashir was completely sympathetic, but then he
 could afford to be. He didn't feel the same way she
 did. "I'm sorry to say, Jadzia, but you'll be undergo-
 ing regeneration for the next five days."
     "Days?" She stared at him. "Five days? Of this! You
 can't be serious."
    "You're very lucky," he assured her, calling on his
most doctorly manner. "You'll survive. It only feels as
if you're turning into liquid mush."
    "Five days?" she repeated incredulously. Dax
suddenly looked around. "Where's Keiko? She
isn't--"
    "She's fine. I was able to put her on a portable unit.
She went up to Ops for a debriefing on your mission."
    Dax changed the subject abruptly. "Does the cap.
tain know about the magnetic currents in the storm?
A plasma arc could be sparked between the station
and the wormholem"
    "Yes, Keiko told us." Bashir concentrated on the
blinking lights of the diagnostic hood. "Since it's too
late to evacuate the station, I believe Sisko intends to
close the wormhole." "How?"
 "With decompression explosives."

    Dax stared at him. "That will close it perma-
nently."
"Do you have another suggestion?" Bashir asked.
"I bet I can come up with one!" She struggled to her
elbows. "Can't I have a portable unit so I can get out
of here, too?"
    "Dax, your irradiation activity is barely holding
below threshold levels. If ionization continues to
increase, I'll have to put you in stasis until we can get
you to a med lab with a regeneration chamber.
Starbase Fifteen is the closest one, and that's three
weeks away."
    "But you let Keiko leave," Dax protested, "and she
was exposed for as long as I was."
    "People react differently to radiation. Your chemi-
cal structure is more vulnerable to the free radicals
that were produced. Do you want to be sterile for the
rest of your life?"
    Dax tried to slip out from under the diagnostic
hood. "Getting out of bed isn't going to accelerate the
ionization process."
    Honestly he admitted, "No, but I doubt if you can
get up."
    That was exactly what she needed to hear. "Shove
this thing aside and I'll show you."
    He obligingly rolled the unit to the bottom of the
bed, leaning against it to watch. She moaned as her
feet swung over the edge, unprepared for the sudden
lurch in her stomach.
  "Feeling queasy?" Bashir asked solicitously.

     "Not at all." She was breathless already. "No
 problem. Just get the portable unit, and I'll be on my
 way."
     He hesitated, hearing the effort in her voice. "I
 strongly advise against this, Jadzia."
    Dax stood up, hanging onto the bed. "I'm an old
pro at this. You don't think I use Klingon exercise
programs just to keep trim, do you?"
  "No, you use them for teasing Worf."
    She glared at him, refusing to rise to the bait.
"Would you rather see everyone else in the same
condition? Because that's what's going to happen if
we can't protect the station."
    Bashir shook his head, and kept on shaking it the
entire time he retrieved a portable regenerator and
adjusted the programming.
    "Thanks," she said breezily as he adjusted it
around her waist. "I owe you one."
    "You owe me at least a dozen," he grimly reminded
her. "And you're not fit to be walking around. If you
suffer a systemic shock, it could kill you."
    "I won't be the only dead body on your hands if
that plasma storm hits the station."
    Bashir frowned but he took her arm, supporting
her. "I'11 go with you." At her dubious look, he slung a
med-kit over his shoulder. "I won't order you to bed,
but I will insist on medical supervision."
    "Thanks, Julian," Dax said, gratefully leaning on
him.

    O'Brien didn't like the way Keiko looked, sweating
and blinking as if she could hardly stay conscious. She
shouldn't be in Ops, she should be flat on her back in
bed. He had found her in the Defiant's sick bay under
a diagnostic hood not more than an hour ago, looking
so pale and drawn that he was afraid she might die.
But Bashir had assured them both that she was well
under the threshold levels of irradiation.
    He went to Keiko's chair and knelt down, checking
the readouts of the portable regeneration unit at her
waist. The whites of her eyes were completely blood-
shot, and her eyelids were swollen and red. She
coughed slightly with every few breaths.
    He wished he could make it all go away. "You'll be
fine, Keiko."
    She stroked his hair with a lingering touch, as if she
had thought about doing it and was glad she finally
could. He leaned his cheek into her palm, then kissed
it. He didn't care that Captain Sisko was sitting five
feet away, examining the data on the plasma storm
that Keiko had compiled.
    Sisko put the clip down on his desk, bringing the
tips of his fingers together. "According to the summa-
ry of your findings, the plasma storm is a living
organism."
  "Yes, it is," Keiko said simply.
    O'Brien squeezed her hand and returned to his seat,
knowing she would prefer it that way during her
report.
  "I agree that organic carbon compounds are being

 produced," Sisko told her. "But how can plasma be
 alive?"
    "Life is energy in motion." Her voice was rough,
but that was how it usually sounded when she was
exhausted. "This plasma mass consumes particles
and maintains an internal rhythm and structure in-
volving the magnetic currents. It also appears to be
capable of propagating offspring when it passes suit-
able planets or moons."
    Sisko didn't like what he was hearing. "If the
plasma is an organism, then we are duty bound not to
cause damage to it."
    "In my professional opinion," Keiko said firmly.
"The plasma mass is a living entity. It possesses an
active, adaptive structure that utilizes its surround-
ings in order to survive."
    "The latest science report suggests that we detonate
nucleonic charges to scatter the storm, forming an
alley of safety for the station."
    "I don't think that's possible," she replied. "You
would damage the internal patterns that maintain the
organism, and it would almost certainly react to
protect itself."
    Sisko lifted one hand in frustration. "If you can
determine that it is an organism, then you must know
some way we can affect it."
    "I'm not a nuclear physicist," Keiko reminded him.
O'Brien admired her cool in the face of Sisko's
pressure. "This is an energy life-form, not a biological
one."

    O'Brien wanted to support her. "That's true. We
need--"
"Dax!" Sisko exclaimed as the door opened.
O'Brien turned as Dax came into the office, sup-
ported by Dr. Bashir. He quickly got up to offer her
the chair, glad of the excuse to go stand next to Keiko.
His hand cupped his wife's shoulder. He thought she
would want him to let go, but she put her hand over
his, keeping it there.
    Dax had always impressed O'Brien with her tall,
imposing presence, but now she folded herself into
the seat with deceptive fragility. She looked even
worse than Keiko, as if she had been starved for
weeks. Her flesh was drawn tight to the bones of her
face, and her skin had a sickly, ashen color. The spots
were hardly visible.
    Dax was also having difficulty breathing. "Captain,
if you close the wormhole with decompression, we
may never get it open again."
    Bashir nodded. "And that won't solve the problem
of how to protect everyone from the alpha radiation.
It will take at least twenty-four hours for the plasma
storm to pass through this sector."
    Sisko looked from Dax to Keiko and turned to
O'Brien. "You examined the effect on the Rubicon's
shields, Chief. Do you have any suggestions?"
    "The alpha waves aren't dangerous until they pass
through the shields. The automatic systems tried to
screen for them, but the oscillations were too random
for them to compensate."

     "And we must have wide coverage," Bashir agreed,
 "to protect everyone against the radiation from the
 other cosmic rays."
     O'Brien knew Sisko was waiting for a solution. "We
 could try to layer the shields, using different oscilla-
 tion frequencies to catch the different angles of the
 scattering."
     "That won't work," Dax said, examining the opera-
 tions report on O'Brien's trieorder. "Our systems still
 can't compensate rapidly enough to stop electrons as
 they spontaneously bond and dissociate."
     O'Brien nodded glumly. "I was also worried about
 the risk of pairing the charged particles. That could
 set off an energy discharge through the power relays."
    In the silence, Keiko gave a loud sigh. "I don't
know, but maybe we're going about this the wrong
way. We can't fight each individual particle and wave.
Plasma dynamics, like those of an organism, react as a
whole. Why don't we use that?"
    "You're talking field mechanics," O'Brien pointed
out. "We've already tried deflection models, but the
magnetic field of the plasma varies too much. The
focus has to be tight--hardly wider than the
stationmand we still get leakage."
    "But we wouldn't have to affect the entire EM
spectrum," Dax said thoughtfully. "Only the direc-
tion of the propagation of the leading particle waves."
    "We still won't be able to protect an area of space
large enough to include the wormhole," O'Brien in-
sisted.

    "But don't you see? We won't have to if we can
deflect the storm," Dax said. "A wave field sent into
the storm front could act as a magnetic mirror,
repelling the charged particles back along the path of
their approach."
    O'Brien looked down at Keiko. "I thought you said
it might damage the plasma to change its internal
patterns?"
    Dax was already shaking her head. "This isn't
matter we're dealing with, it's plasma. A liquid of
charged particles following the waves in a helical
motion. The direction of propagation can be reversed
without affecting any of the other variables like fre-
quency or temperature or energy dispersion. That's
why magnetic mirrors are so useful in containing
plasma for scientific study."
    Sisko put his hands flat on the desk. "Dax, this is a
big storm with a lot of momentum behind it. It would
take a lot of energy to change its direction."
    "We'll use its energy to our advantage," she told
him. "Direction of propagation is a cascade reaction.
If we can influence one particle, it will influence
others. We can target the leading field lines and the
organism should react as a whole, turning on itself."
"Leaving the sector the way it came," Keiko agreed.
"Can it be done?" Sisko asked O'Brien.
     "You've got me," he admitted, taking his tricorder
 back from Dax to input the equations. "It's a good
 thing we upped the power amplitude this morning.
 That Rom is a godsend. He was able to link the outer

shield wall to the deflector towers. Now we can absorb
the energy directly from the cosmic rays and deflect it
back at the storm."
    Sisko glanced around, seeing they were in agree-
ment. "It looks as if we have a plan, people. Let's
make it work."

CHAPTER
      18

KEIKO FELT MILES squeeze her hand as they entered
Ops. She smiled in return as he headed for his station,
then she hesitated at Kira's glare, thinking it was
meant for her.
    "Captain, you can't close the wormhole!" Kira
protested as soon as Sisko appeared. Keiko realized
that the major wasn't angry, but harried almost
beyond endurance.
    At the tactical station, Worf curtly reported,
"Decompression explosives have been prepared, and
torpedoes are ready to launch."
    Keiko was about to object, but Dr. Bashir did it for
her. "That could kill the aliens living inside the
wormhole."

"The charge has been calibrated to affect only the
periphery of the subspace fibers," Worf replied.
    "Only the periphery!" Kira repeated sarcastically.
"That will detach it from this quadrant, destroying
the Celestial Temple of the Prophets."
    "I'm not going to destroy anything," Sisko said
flatly, cutting off the discussion. "We think we have
another solution. We're going to repel the plasma
mass back on itself."
    Worf was examining his sensors. "Sir, our attempts
to deflect the storm have proved ineffective."
    "And we barely have enough power to keep the
shields intact," Kira added. "We're already getting
random radiation penetration."
    "That's because we're trying to block the wave
emissions." Dax had to stop because of her coughing.
Keiko finished for her.
    "A deflection field aimed at the plasma itself will
reverse the direction of the particles."
    Bashir was helping Dax down the steps. "She
should be in the infirmary."
    She shook her head. "Let's set up the deflector
program. Then I'll route the data to the center console
so I can sit down."
    Keiko felt as bad as Dax looked, but she went to the
science console to assist her. Accessing the patterns of
her latest biometric analysis, she included the data
that both the Defiant and the station had gathered
while they were gone.
    Kira checked her readings. "Impact with the station
is estimated in two hours."

 "We have enough time," Keiko said quietly.
    "But you can't expect to match the variables of
every wave," Kira protested. "That's impossible."
    "We'll target the particle waves in the magnetic
currents," Keiko told her. "That's the dominant in-
ternal rhythm according to the biometric analysis. We
gathered enough data on their directional flow and
internal oscillations to be able to accurately target
those wave patterns."
    Miles backed her up, saying, "The leakage won't
matter as long as we can affect more than eighty
percent of the area in contact with the deflection
cone."
    Sisko took a stance at the head of the main console.
"Let me know when you can begin."
    Dax was sagging as Keiko ran the final confirmation
pattern against her biometric analysis. But she had to
be ruthless. If the angle of oscillation was not correct,
the power would be expended for nothing.
    "Sorry," she murmured to Dax. "Another
minute..."
  Dax shrugged, wincing in lieu of a smile.
    Keiko knew it wasn't the appropriate time, but she
quietly added, "I knew the loops were killing you, but
I kept going through. I'm sorry about that, too."
    Dax quickly looked up, then nodded. "I would have
done the same thing. We make a good team, you and
i.,,

    "Yes," Keiko agreed. "Just don't tell anyone about
your hallucinations." She glanced around, making

 sure no one else could hear. "Miles can be sen-
 sitive about that kind of stuff. You know, supersti-
 tious."
    "It had nothing to do with you," Dax admitted. "I
guess I got you two confused with something else. I
think it was because of what you said about the
Gratitude Festival last year."
    Keiko remembered the way Dax had acted that
night, wrapping her arms around Sisko and practi-
cally climbing up his body. "Oh! I see."
    "You and O'Brien make a good couple," Dax said.
"Like Benjamin and Kasidy. Sometimes you can tell
just by watching two people together."
    "I know," Keiko agreed, realizing how much trust
Dax was placing in her. "Then we'll keep the details
between ourselves."
    Dax nodded, but she was also swaying as if ready to
pass out.
    "Analysis completed," Keiko announced loud
enough so everyone would know they were making
progress.
    Dax took one look at the figures and graphs of the
biometric analysis and told O'Brien, "Good thing you
increased the power output. We have the pitch angle
of the frequency, but it needs to be oscillated in a
rather complex pattern."
    Dax made a few minor adjustments to the de-
flection program, then relayed the matrix to him. "I
see what you mean," he muttered. "Irregular pat-
terns."

    Dax routed the science data to the center console as
Miles reported, "Deflectors will be ready in a mo-
ment, sir."
    Bashir helped Dax to a stool at the center console.
"You've done enough."
"Not yet," Dax retorted with forced lightness.
Keiko leaned against the science console. She was
locked out of control and could only monitor what
was happening. Then she realized Miles was giving
her a concerned look, and he motioned to her regener-
ation unit. She checked it to make him happy, and
gave him a thumbs-up signal. Poor Miles looked as if
he hadn't slept last night either, and she remembered
how his hand had trembled when he touched her
shoulder. Suddenly she didn't feel like the weak link
around here, knowing everyone else was suffering,
too. It was an awful thought, but she knew self-
survival tended to bring out the baser instincts of
biology.
  "Deflectors on line," Miles announced.
    Dax confirmed, "Matrix program tied in with the
guidance systems."
    Keiko carefully watched the indicator recording the
rate of leakage against the error factor. If she had to,
she would recalibrate her data.
  "Activate deflectors," Sisko ordered.
    It took a moment for the magnetic mirror to
stabilize. "Narrow the density focus," Keiko mur-
mured as Dax tried to compensate for the interfer-
ence of the emission waves.

     Miles frowned as he realized what she was doing.
 "We don't want to get intrabeam collisions."
  "We've got room," Dax said. 'TII tell you where."
     "Field lines focused," O'Brien confirmed. "Power
 holding steady."
     The readings indicated that forty percent of the
 particles within the deflection beam were being re-
 versed.
     "It's not strong enough," Keiko said. "There must
 be something else we can do."
     Dax lifted her head. "It's too steady. Every other
 variable has an irregular pattern."
     Keiko knew what she meant. "What if we pulse the
 deflectors--"
     "And target different areas to maximize our contact
 load," Dax agreed. "Then we can turn the tide."
    "Hold on there!" O'Brien protested. "You want me
to pulse the beam? That's much harder on the emit-
ters. And the possibility of feedback overload in-
creases by seventy percent."
    "It's the only way we can have an effect on the
plasma," Dax insisted.
  Sisko nodded. "Do it."
    Keiko went to Miles's station to access the biomet-
ric matrix and determine the optimal timing of the
pulses. "It's complicated by the internal motion. The
intervals will have to vary according to the location of
contact."
    Miles seemed amazed by what she was doing. "It's
theoretically possible. But I don't know how the
emitters will hold up."

Keiko knew that tone of voice. "I knew you could
do it. Here's the pulse pattern sequence."
    She stepped aside so he could enter the program.
"New pattern entered," he announced. "Engaging
deflectors."
    Gasps rose at the sight on the main viewer. With
each burst of the deflector beam, brilliant flashes
rippled against the blackbody, twisting into the
plasma itself and curling around the intricate folds
and crinkles of a pattern more convoluted than
brain tissue. It was like a living form of a mathemati-
cal equation, illuminated by hairline fractures of
light.
    Miles put an arm around Keiko's shoulder, drawing
her closer. "Deflection rate at seventy-six percent and
rising."
    "I knew it would work," Keiko whispered, staring
at the plasma mass. She could almost see it churning
back on itself. Then she looked up at him. "Miles, I
think we should have another baby."
    His eyes widened. "Is now the time to talk about
something like that?"
     "Can you think of a better time?" she asked,
 wanting to laugh.
     He started to smile, tightening his arm around her.
 "Sure! I think it's a great idea. We always said we
 would--"
     "It's working? Dax exclaimed. "Benjamin, we've
 done it. Cascade reversal is spreading and the for-
 ward movement has significantly slowed." She

glanced up at Bashir. "I think I'll go back to the
infirmary now."
  "Finally!" the doctor exclaimed.
    Miles swept Keiko up in a real hug as exclamations
and sighs of relief rose in Ops. "I knew it," Keiko
whispered, for Miles as well as herself. "I knew we
could make it work!"

CHAPTER
      19

AmmR SlSKO MADE the announcement that the storm
had been deflected from the system, Odo knew that
his time as a nanny was almost over. But he didn't
expect the O'Briens to come for Molly so soon after
the storm alert was rescinded.
    Almost before they were through the door, O'Brien
was saying, "Thanks so much, Odo. I don't know
what we would have done without you."
    Keiko looked as if she was barely able to keep
standing, even with her husband's support, but her
smile radiated warmth and gratitude. "Miles told me
how wonderful you've been with Molly."
Molly looked over the edge of the desk. "Mommy?"
"I'm home, Molly." Keiko held out her arms.
"How's my girl?"

     Odo was ready to urge her towards her mother,
 afraid of the same sort of incident that had happened
 this morning with O'Brien. But Molly skipped out to
 meet her parents, letting Keiko kiss her and lifting her
 hands so her father would pick her up. She was
 babbling about her pony rides.
     Keiko beamed at Odo. "She enjoyed herself, I can
 tell."
  "Yeah," O'Brien agreed wryly. "Molly likes Odo."
  Odo inclined his head. "And I like Molly."
    Keiko wrinkled her nose up at her daughter, secure
in her father's arms~ "I guess you don't need your old
parents so much, do you? But what would we do
without you?"
  Odo silently agreed.
    "We can't thank you enough," O'Brien told him,
reaching out for his hand.
    Odo hesitated, but he shook hands with the chief.
Usually he avoided it, perhaps because other people
often didn't extend him the courtesy, as if they were
afraid they could be absorbed by a mere touch. But
the firm clasp was a seal of something they had
shared--Molly.
    "I don't mind watching her," Odo said gruffly. "If
you need to go to the infirmary, I have some time to
spare."
    Keiko was coughing, glancing at the portable medi-
cal unit around her waist, but O'Brien assured him,
"She'll be fine. Right now, the best thing for us is to go
home and have a nice, long nap."

    Molly waved good-bye to Odo. "Can I have more
pony rides?"
    "I would be glad to. Drop by anytime," Odo told
her, meaning it. To Keiko, he added, "She already had
her lunch. Corn chowder and a cheese sandwich,
though she didn't like the tomatoes--"
    Odo broke off, realizing how he must sound. Keiko
hesitated, then gently put her hand on his arm.
"Thank you, Odo. We'll both come see you, probably
more often than you would like."
    Odo nodded, sitting down and turning his chair
away. He couldn't bear to watch them leave. But he
could hear Molly's bright chatter as she talked about
the games and funny things she had seen in the
security office.
     The door closed, then there was silence again. He
 turned to gaze at the chair where Molly had curled up
 to nap this morning. The same chair where Major
 Kira sat every Tuesday as they went over the weekly
 security report. He realized he was beginning to hope
 that someday the door would close and love and
 laughter would stay inside with him instead of always
 walking away.
  He signaled Ops.
     Kira answered, "Hi, Odo. Something I can help you
 with?"
     It was on the tip of his tongue to ask to see her this
 evening, but what would he say? "Have dinner with
 me?" It was absurd. He didn't even eat.
     "It was nothing," he muttered, shifting uneasily.
 "My hand slipped, is all."

    Kira rewarded him with a smile. "Always glad to
see you, Constable."
    Odo stiffly nodded, ending the transmission. Then
he sat there, comforting himself with the memory of
her velvety brown eyes fondly gazing at him. Maybe it
wasn't too much to ask--someday.

     Sisko nodded to the O'Brien family as they passed
 him in the habitat ring. The chief was carrying Molly,
 so he figured they were finally heading back to their
 quarters. They certainly deserved it. Keiko had
 served above and beyond the call of duty after Dax
 had slipped into radiation-induced hallucinations. He
 intended to request a citation for her work.
    Sisko waved as he turned the other way, toward the
permanent resident section. The corridors were no
longer lined with restless, bored evacuees surrounded
by their piles of possessions. It was still overcrowded,
but everyone was dashing about, intent on returning
to their ships for departure. They were fortunate that
the emission waves had diminished almost as soon as
the plasma mass turned on itself. It wouldn't be long
before the first vessels would receive clearance to go
through the wormhole.
    Kira was still in Ops coordinating the departure
sequence. Sisko had promised to relieve her after he
took a break for an hour or so. There was something
he wanted to do first.
    "Benjamin!" Kasidy exclaimed as the door opened.
"I thought it was one of the Ceres people. They left
some of their things--" She broke off, grinning at

him. "Don't stand out there, Ben. You'll get run
over."
    "Thanks." Sisko walked inside. He couldn't take
his eyes off her. It was remarkable the way she glowed,
like a steady, burning flame. He wanted to hold his
hands out to her, soaking up the soothing warmth.
    She turned a complete circle in the center of the
room, spreading her arms wide at the piles of blankets
and dirty dishes. "I was going to roll around in
Bacchanalian abandon, then take a long, hot shower."
  "I'd like to see that." He went closer.
      Kasidy smiled up at him. "I always celebrate after a
life or death experience."  "So do I."
    She hesitated, as if this were too good to be true.
"You're stopping by for only a second, aren't you? To
make sure I'm all right."
    "Wrong." He was enjoying this. "Jake and I are
going to use some of my Captain's prerogative and
replicate a tricorder and a picnic lunch. I thought you
might like to join us on the observation deck of the
upper pylon. It's sure to be quite a sight, watching all
of these vessels pull out."
     She cocked her head. "Then you aren't mad about
 what I said to Jake?"
     He hesitated, trying to remember. "What did you
 say to Jake?"
     "Didn't he tell you? Last night after that freighter
 broke loose, he tracked me down." She shrugged
 slightly. "He was acting so worried, wanting to make
 sure my ship was secured and volunteering to help set

 up the temporary housing. I told him to go have some
 fun with those new friends of his. Actually, I in-
 sisted."
     "Oh, you did?" He raised one brow in mock
 severity. "Did you know that I told him to stay in our
 quarters last night?"  "Yes."
     "You did?" he asked in surprise. "And you still told
 him to go out?"
    "Yes. I said you both needed to lighten up." Kasidy
laughed outright at his expression. "Oh, I know he
almost ended up getting arrested, but I'd do it all over
again. When I left this morning he was in your room,
furiously writing away. I think he wishes he'd been
put in the brig, if only for a few minutes."
    Sisko shook his head. "Captain, sometimes you're
too much for me."
    "I know I am." She gave him an arch look. "But
you know I'm right."
"It's beginning to be a pattern," he agreed.
Kasidy put her arms around his neck. "You know,
Ben, I think we've weathered our first storm together
rather well."
    "Yes, we have." He liked the way she felt in his
arms, and he was glad that she hadn't been able to
read his mind during the past twenty-four hours.
    She laughed, as if she knew exactly what he was
thinking. "I'd love to go on a picnic, but don't you
have a million things to do?"
 "Nothing more important than this."

    Kasidy caught her breath. "You know, Ben, some-
times you say just the right things."
 "Good." He kissed her, savoring her soft lips.
    As they finally drew apart, she somehow managed
to slip out of his grasp. "Come on, let's not miss
anything."
    He could never seem to hold onto her for very long.
"Jake said he would meet us at the replimat."
    But as they left, Sisko captured her hand, refusing
to let go. He felt better than he had in a long, long
time.

CHAPTER
      2O

Wm~ WORF RETURNED to his quarters, he paced
around for a few moments, noting the stains and
general disarray that. ha~l been left behind by his
guests. But beyond that, there was something funda-
mentally wrong. He knew that these rooms would
never feel like home to him, not like his quarters on
the Enterprise. He didn't belong here, and yet, where
else did he belong?
    Worf sat down at his console. This Klingon-
Federation conflict could help determine where he
belonged, but in the end, it was up to him to make a
place for himself. Then he could make a home that
included Alexander and all of the other people he
cared about.

    He activated the corn. "Worf to Reaper, requesting
to speak to Captain Aft."
    Aft quickly came on the line, and his grave expres-
sion indicated he had been waiting for Worfs deci-
sion. "Yes, Commander?"
    "Your senior mate has been released from the brig,
Captain. Charges will not be filed against her."
    "Thank you, Commander! I am most appreciative.
If there is anything--"
    Worf shook his head. "Do not thank me." For some
reason, he added, "I did it for her."
  "Oh." Ari hesitated. "Why, if I may ask?"
    Worf briefly pressed his lips together. "I understand
the way she feels."
    "That is very... generous of you, Commander."
Ari's voice gave the impression that it was highly
dubious, as well.
    Worf remembered Odo had not been as diplomatic
when he had ordered him to release Carl. "You should
prosecute her just to make an example for the rest of
the Sattar," the chief had insisted. But Worf had
already made up his mind.
    He did not care what any of them thought. "Is the
Reaper prepared to depart?"
  "We could be. That is, once Cali returns."
     Worf input the proper docking commands. "You
 have clearance to disembark within the next hour. I
 recommend that you do so immediately."
     Ari leaned forward. "Are you in a rush to see us
 leave, Commander?"

     This was why Worf had waited until he was in his
 quarters to make the call rather than doing it from
 Ops. "The Klingons will be released from the brig
 after sixteen hundred hours. Due to the termination
 of the peace treaty, they will be asked to leave
 immediately."
     "I understand." Ari's voice grew hushed at the
 implications.
    Worf was well aware that the Klingons would have
no compunctions about ordering the Sattar to take
them back to Qo'noS, even if it caused them to lose
their transport contract. And without a ship, Alons
could very well commandeer the Reaper for his own
use.
    Ari apparently thought about all that and more,
because he kept staring at Worf as if he didn't
understand, yet he didn't want to tip his hand. "Why
are you telling me this?"
    "You were correct this morning. I do not believe it
is right that the Klingon government can interfere
with what rightfully belongs to you." Worf tightened
his fist. "They took away my lands, just as they would
take your ship from your people. I cannot allow that
to continue."
  "You can't?" Ari asked.
  "No."
    Worf transmitted the documents he had filed with
the High Council of the Federation of Planets request-
ing an inquiry into the condition and status of the
Sattar Collective under the Klingon Empire.
 Ari read the documents, considering them care-

fully. "This has already been received and docketed
by the Federation Council. Can you cancel your
request?"
    "No. It will be processed until a ruling is reached,"
Worf told him. "The Sattar Collective will be investi-
gated, along with your history involving the Klingon
Empire. You can testify as to your current conditions,
and the Klingon High Council will be asked to
respond."
    "But the peace treaty has been broken," Ari pro-
tested. "Why should the Klingons cooperate?"
    "It will undoubtedly delay a ruling from the Federa-
tion Council. However, a new peace treaty must
include discussions of your status within the Klingon
Empire. In order for you to receive full protection
from Starfleet, the Sattar Collective must apply to join
the Federation."
    Ari was slowly shaking his head. "I didn't think you
had it in you, Commander, but you can strike a good
deal when you put your mind to it. What is it you
want?"
    "This is not a deal," Worf denied. "I desire nothing
for requesting the inquiry."
    "But surely you must know how valuable this is to
the Sattar?"
  "It is done."
     Ari hesitated. "Then there are no hidden strings,
 nothing we have to do for you?"
     Worf drew back at the suggestion. "You have until
 sixteen hundred hours to leave, Captain Ari. Good
 luck."

     He reached over to disengage, but Ari stopped him.
 "Thank you, Commander. You'll never know the
 depth of the gratitude of the Sattar."
     Worf signed off, vaguely wondering why he heard a
 threat implied in those words.
    He sighed as he stood up, glancing around the
repellant rooms. He had been forced to agree with
Captain Sisko on the release of Alons and his crew.
The Katon had never fired on the station or the
Defiant, and the destruction of the yacht had elimi-
nated any evidence of their attack on the Ceres. Their
tampering with the docking clamps had been ill
conceived, and it was reason enough to hold them in
the brig and give them an armed escort to a departing
vessel. But it would only serve to antagonize the
Klingon High Council to hold Alons here any longer.
    Worf went to the window, wishing he could see the
Defiant from here. From the first time he saw that
ship, he knew she was worthy of a warrior, worthy of
the war that was to come. Yet he suddenly felt his
conviction falter. Perhaps everyone else was correct,
and the Klingons knew they could not win in a fight
against the Federation. Perhaps he had become so
desperate to resolve his own private dilemma with his
people that he was seeing conspiracies and incursions
where there were none.
    His fists tightened as he glared at the departing
ships, at the busy image of prosperity on the station.
Could he be wrong about the Klingon Empire?

    After Cali had returned to the Reaper and talked to
Captain Ari, she ran the entire way through the ring to
Worf's quarters. She had been calculating her percent-
age of the Klingon deal, which she had initiated from
inside the brig, when Ari told her it had been can-
celed. She had protested, not only because the con-
tract points had been arranged, but because her bonus
would enable her to redeem her debt to the rest of the
members.
    But then Ari explained what Worf had done for
them, requesting a Federation inquiry into the Sattar
situation. Cali didn't have to be told it was in their
best interests to play along with Starfleet. If they were
sucked into the Klingon offensive they would be
nothing more than service drones for the duration of
the hostilities. And knowing the Klingons, that could
last for generations.
    Cali signaled the door, hoping Worf was here. She
didn't have much time left. The captain had tried to
prevent her from leaving the Reaper, intending for
them to be far away from the station by the time the
Klingons were released. But Cali had called in the
terms of her private deal, and Ari had been forced to
allow her to go. But he had warned her that the
Reaper would depart on schedule whether or not she
returned.
  "Enter!"
     Cali went in, knowing that for once she had not
 carefully planned and prepared what she was going to
 say. So she stood just inside the door as Worf turned
 from the portal.

     "What do you want?" He looked displeased and
 unhappy, as if he was thoroughly frustrated by every-
 thing that had happened.
  "I don't know why I came," she admitted.
     "You do not intend to thank me." He gazed out the
 window again.
     "No. Like everyone else, I'm sure you have your
 reasons for what you do."
    "Do you know many honorable people?" he coun-
tered.
  "Do you?" she retorted.
  "Yes."
    She still thought that he must have gained some-
thing from helping them. But if he had found out
about the Klingon deal, he would have exposed their
involvement rather than give them the best hope the
Sattar Collective had had in centuries.
    "You will find honorable people in the Federation,"
Worf told her. "Perhaps they can help you if you deal
with them honestly."
    "Why would the Federation help us?" Cali de-
manded. "They don't care about us."
    "The Federation has more reason to be prejudiced
against me," Worf reminded her. "Yet only the Fede-
ration has supported my personal rights."
    "Perhaps they have more to offer than we thought,"
Cali said slowly. The same impulse that had driven
her here to discover the truth behind Worf's actions
impelled her to make good on this deal. "Command-
er, you should watch your back for Klingons. All of
you should."

    "What do you mean?" he demanded, taking three
strides to reach her. "Do you know about the Ceres?"
    "No, no, you have far bigger worries than the
Ceres," she said, waving away his comment impa-
tiently. "We've seen a thousand things that add up to
an impending Klingon offensive. The Reaper is one of
the last Sattar vessels in this area. The Collective has
resolved to migrate deeper into Federation territory
to avoid the coming hostilities."
  "Is this true?" Worf demanded.
    "You can check the movements of Sattar ships,"
Cali pointed out. "It's easy enough, except who
watches things like that? By the way, I'm breaking
ranks telling you this. It's not strictly dealable infor-
mation until the area is vacated. But you could always
find it on your own."
    "Yes}" His eyes lit up with triumph. "Cali, you have
been... most helpful."
    "Just making square on the deal," she told him.
"That's the only justice I've ever found in this
galaxy."
 "Perhaps," Worf agreed, finally returning her smile.
 Cali turned to leave, but over her shoulder she
 couldn't resist a parting shot. "Oh, and Commander
 Worf, are you sure you don't want to inspect my aft
 cargo bay one more time?"