The Dominion War_ Behind Enemy Lines Part 10

He heard footsteps clomping up the ladder, and he turned to see the rotund, beaming face of Enrak Grof. "Excellent!" bellowed the Trill. "Very efficient piloting, Lieutenant, and excellent work with the tractor beam, Commander."

The Deltan scowled. "My baby sister could have retrieved that cargo bin."

"Baby steps are what we must take," said Grof, "until we are allowed to take the big step."

The Trill flashed Sam a look, and then he climbed back down the ladder. There was something in his choice of words and his expression which made Sam wonder how hard he would resist an escape attempt. When the moment came, it would be hard to predict how any of them would react. It would either be escape or death, so they would have to choose the moment carefully. If Grof resisted, they would be forced to deal with him themselves.

There were more footsteps, and Joulesh poked his web-eared head over the top of the hatch. "I wish to convey the Founder's extreme pleasure with your progress," said the Vorta. "Two more test flights, and we believe you will be free to make history."

Whose history? wondered Sam. Who will end up writing it?

Jean-Luc Picard materialized inside a narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel that linked the subs.p.a.ce relay station to the barracks of the permanent garrison. He was glad that Letharna had warned him to duck, or his head would have materialized inside a concrete ceiling. More black-garbed guerrilla fighters were standing by in the transporter room of the Orb of Peace, in case they were needed, but the initial a.s.sault team consisted of himself, Letharna, and two young humans who looked Bajoran.

He and his crew members were armed with phasers set to heavy stun, although they hoped to slip in, broadcast the alert, and escape without being detected. Letharna was armed only with the isolinear rod. In a crouch, she motioned them to follow her as she scuttled down the dank tunnel toward a shadowy doorway.

Feeling unexpectedly nervous, Picard nodded to his subordinates to follow her, while he brought up the rear. The tunnel was intended for use during bad weather, to move from one building to another, but it had apparently fallen into disuse. According to Letharna, it wouldn't have sensors capable of detecting a small force beaming down, but the tunnel was giving Picard an uncomfortable feeling of claustrophobia. He didn't have enough knowledge of the station to take over the point from Letharna, so he had to trust her. Trusting Carda.s.sians, even dissidents, did not come easily.

He thought of another Carda.s.sian he had trusted, Joret Dal, a Federation operative who had infiltrated the Carda.s.sian military. Dal disappeared in a shuttlecraft with Ensign Sito Jaxa, attempting the same thing his team was trying to do-sneak into Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce. Was Dal found out, or was he a double agent? They would never know. What a tragedy it had been to lose Ensign Sito, recalled Picard. Putting people in danger was his least favorite aspect of command, especially when he lost the gamble, as he had with Sito Jaxa.

A moment later, the captain arrived at the solid metal door where Letharna and his two officers were gathered. Confronted by a card entry system, Letharna drew a handful of Carda.s.sian security cards from her belt, and she intently fed them into the slot, looking for one that would work.

"They don't change the codes that often," she whispered. "After all, their nearest neighbors are on another continent, with no way to get here."

While she worked on the door, Picard checked his chronometer. He was worried that if the operation took too long, their ship would move so far in its...o...b..t that it would be out of transporter range. Then the ship would have to backtrack, possibly raising suspicions.

He was about to tell Letharna to hurry up, when the lights on the door turned white and the lock clicked. Letharna pushed the door open, and it squeaked on rusty hinges. Stealthily they climbed a flight of metal stairs.

On the move again, Picard felt more confident. When they got to the open door at the top of the stairs, Letharna dropped into a crouch, and Picard moved into position behind her, his Bajoran hand phaser leveled for action. They crept into a large bunker filled with electronic equipment, computer stations, and the chirping sounds of a constant stream of subs.p.a.ce radio traffic. The only window was a narrow slit in the wall which afforded a partial view of a giant parabolic antenna on the outer grounds. Although it was night, the floodlights outside were as bright as day.

No one seemed to be present in the bunker, and Picard felt a mixture of relief and dread. Just as before, it was going too smoothly. He motioned to one of his officers to remain by the door, and she did so, crouching down on the upper landing. The other officer followed Picard and Letharna as they crept through rows of shelves, boxes, and electronic equipment.

Suddenly they heard voices mixed in with the subs.p.a.ce chatter, and all three of them dropped to their bellies and remained p.r.o.ne as two Carda.s.sian guards entered from an outside door. Laughing, the guards seemed to share a joke as they checked the readouts on a console by the door.

Picard saw Letharna draw a long, curved knife from her bosom and clutch it in a trembling hand. He quickly tapped her leg. After getting her attention, he shook his head vigorously, then he held up his phaser, hoping she would get the idea. Letharna had a look of bloodl.u.s.t in her dark eyes which he had seen before in Carda.s.sians. Looking somewhat disappointed, she nodded at him.

A moment later, Picard felt a tap on his leg, and he looked back at his young officer to see him urgently pointing. The captain turned to see one of the Carda.s.sians strolling nonchalantly across the room, checking various readouts as he went. He was coming closer.

For the moment, they were hidden by stacks of equipment, but there was no way of telling when the Carda.s.sian would walk down their aisle. There was also no way of knowing how long these workers would remain on duty in this bunker, and time was running out.

With both of his comrades staring at him, awaiting a decision, Picard made one. He held up his phaser, motioned to his officer, and pointed to the guard making the rounds. Then he pointed to himself and motioned to the guard farther away on the main console. A sense of urgency gripped the captain when he saw his target insert an isolinear rod into the receptacle on the instrument panel.

He jumped to his feet, seeing his comrades do the same. Picard took quick but sure aim and unleashed a red beam, which streaked across the room and struck his target in the back. The Carda.s.sian gasped and slumped over his console, unconscious.

Picard heard shuffling and crashing sounds, and he turned to see that his officer had missed his target. The second Carda.s.sian scrambled down the aisle, making a dash for the exit, and there was another flash of movement to Picard's right.

With a total disregard for her safety, Letharna leaped over a computer console and pounced upon the escaping guard. Picard watched in horror as she neatly slit his throat with her curved blade. His body slumped uselessly onto the floor, yet she continued to shake him, looking annoyed that the life had so quickly seeped out of him.

"That's enough!" hissed Picard, grabbing her arm.

"He was going for the alarm," she said defensively.

"That could be," muttered Picard. As disappointed as he was in her rash actions, he still needed Letharna, so he swallowed the rest of his words.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the officer who had missed his target. The young man looked quite mortified.

"Dispose of his body," said Picard. He took the young man's phaser and set it to vaporize. The officer nodded and went about his grim task.

Letharna was already at the main console. She grabbed the unconsious guard and tossed his body to the floor; then she sat down at his place. Picard looked nervously over her shoulder and studied the unfamiliar readouts.

"Can you do it?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, that was never in doubt." Letharna gave him a sardonic grin, and for the first time Picard saw a look of madness in her sunken eyes.

"I have control of the whole station from here, the whole security grid-the whole planet!" With confident fingers, Letharna worked the instruments. "Do you know how long we've waited to get in here?"

Picard tried to curb his anger and impatience. "The message to the warships," he reminded her.

She removed the rod from the console and replaced it with the one given to them by the village leader. "This should give us access to the interrupt codes. Yes, there it is. You want them to receive a general alert that will cause them to return to base?"

"Yes," breathed Picard, worried that Letharna was beginning to look upon this as an opportunity to right as many wrongs as possible.

As she entered commands, an urgent beeping caused all of them to jump, and Picard looked accusingly at the blinking communications panel. Letharna kept working, a delighted grin on her face, and Picard finally slapped the panel to silence it. A moment later, a stream of spoken Carda.s.sian erupted from the panel, and he tapped it again to squelch that.

"Hurry," he breathed.

"Your part is done," she said. "Now I have to collect as many new codes as I can, while we have this chance. I'm going to fill up this rod."

The man on the floor groaned, and Picard adjusted his phaser to a heavier stun and drilled him at point-blank range. A second later, they heard footsteps running outside the bunker, and Picard knew it was time to go.

He looked around, took stock of the situation, and tapped his comm badge. "Orb of Peacefive second delay, then six to beam up."

"Yes, sir."

Picard motioned to his officer stationed by the tunnel, and she hustled over. He heard more footsteps and voices outside, plus the comm panel began to beep again. "It's time to go," he told Letharna.

"One more minute," she growled, her fingers working furiously.

Picard grabbed her precious isolinear rod and yanked it from its slot. The screen went blank. Enraged, Letharna screamed and jumped up with her knife over her head, but Picard shot her in the stomach. Stunned, she slumped to the floor, and Picard caught her falling body just as their molecules turned into a swarm of swirling fireflies. When the Carda.s.sians burst in a moment later, they found no one.

Captain Picard, two humans disguised as Bajorans, and two unconsious Carda.s.sians materialized in a heap on the transporter pad of the Orb of Peace. Picard staggered off, setting Letharna gently on the floor and tucking her knife and her isolinear rod into her belt. The blacked-garbed officers quickly surrounded the fallen Carda.s.sians. The wounded one appeared to be dead.

"Mr. La Forge," said Picard urgently, "what about the warships?"

The engineer grinned. "They lit out right on cue, twenty seconds ago."

"Accelerated orbit," ordered Picard. "I want Ro and the rest of the team back here as soon as possible."

La Forge carried out the command on his transporter console, while the captain gazed down at Letharna. "A remarkable woman-I wish I had time to thank her properly. I'm glad she was willing to help us. Beam her back down to the planet."

"Like that, unconscious?"

"Yes, we don't have time for good-byes." He looked with distaste at the living Carda.s.sian. "I hadn't intended to take a prisoner, but now we have one. Starfleet may want to interrogate him."

"But, Captain," said La Forge, "we don't have a brig. And no internal forcefields either."

Picard turned to the security detail. "Put the prisoner in the captain's quarters. We haven't been using it. Strip the furnishings, except for a mattress, and put restraints on his legs. I want him to feel as if he's being well treated-but watch him closely."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"Captain," said Geordi, "we're coming up on transporter range."

"Notify the away team and tell them to keep their good-byes short," ordered Picard, striding toward the door. "We're getting out of here."

It was a peaceful evening aboard the Tag Garwal. At least, it felt like evening, with both their test flights over and almost everyone asleep. The bridge was quiet, with only Sam Lavelle on duty. There was no particlar reason why he had to be on duty, because they were docked and safely coc.o.o.ned within the might of the Dominion. Their comrades were suffering only a short distance away, but no harm could befall the chosen ones.

That is, no harm could befall them until tomorrow, when they set off on their mission. Perhaps that was why Sam couldn't sleep, why he had to haunt the bridge long after his shift was over. He wasn't worried about their official mission, only the unofficial one. He had promised his crew that they would try to escape; it was their duty as prisoners of war. But how could he pull it off? Did he have the right to jeopardize all their lives in what could well be a futile gesture? Especially when they had a chance to survive this h.e.l.l.

Survival versus honor-it was a tough choice.

Sam was startled by heavy footsteps on the ladder, and he knew before he turned around that it was Grof. The big Trill lumbered up the steps, veered toward him, and slumped into the tactical station.

"Can't sleep?" asked Sam.

Grof scowled. "No, of course I can't sleep with the voices coming from the quarters next door. That Deltan is up all night, entertaining her friend, Enrique."

"Oh, let them be," replied Sam, putting his hands behind his back. "s.e.x is a kind of religious experience to Deltans. Besides, weren't you ever young ... and about to die?"

"We aren't going to die," muttered Grof through clenched teeth. "The Dominion should have continued to keep us segregated by s.e.x even here."

"I guess they don't think of everything," said Sam with a sly smile. "And if we manage to live through this, it will be a miracle."

"I wish you would stop saying that. Although it's dangerous, there's no reason why we can't successfully complete this mission."

Yes, there is, thought Sam, but he wasn't going to tell Grof why. Besides, it was time to change the subject. "Tell me about our destination, the Eye of Talek."

Grof shrugged. "It's the smallest black hole in Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce. Probably the oldest, too."

"It's not an imploded star?"

"No," answered Grof, "the Eye of Talek dates from the formation of the universe. At least that's the legend according to the Carda.s.sians, and the cosmology tends to bear it out. Had we tried to go with an imploded star, the gravity would have been too great for our operation. You know, a typical black hole keeps the same ma.s.s it had when it was a star. As for the small ones, like the Eye of Talek, and the huge ones, like that monster at the center of our galaxy-we can only guess where they came from."

"Some people think it was a supreme being who created the universe," said Sam. "What we call G.o.d. Some people wouldn't like the idea of you creating an artificial wormhole either. Don't you sometimes feel like you're playing G.o.d?"

"Yes," answered Grof proudly, "but it's necessary to play G.o.d. Once we discovered that s.p.a.ce and time were curved, it was essential that we try to exploit the intersections where they curve back upon themselves. Where G.o.d failed was that he made wormholes unstable. The Bajorans consider the Prophets to be G.o.ds, simply because they stabilized a wormhole. Imagine what kind of G.o.d I'll be after I stabilize hundreds of wormholes, connecting every corner of the galaxy?"

Sam shook his head in amazement. "You have a big enough ego for the job."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Grof smugly.

The lieutenant yawned and pointed to the sleeping alcove off the rear of the bridge. "You're welcome to bunk back there if you don't want to go below."

Grof glowered at the injustice of it all, but he finally acceded. "Thank you."

The bear of a Trill rose to his feet and shuffled off; then he looked back. "You know, Lavelle, this mission depends entirely upon you. You're our leader. If you crack-or you pull something stupid-we'll all go down with you."

"Not that you would put any pressure on me," muttered Sam.

"I just want you to know how much is riding on this. Our equality-"

"Equality?" Sam burst out laughing. "We're slaves, Grof. Maybe someday a few of us could aspire to attain the status of a Jem'Hadar or a Vorta. Well, thanks but no thanks. There's only one race who matters-the Founders. The rest of us are just the help. If you try to be a G.o.d, they'll squash you like a bug. The Founders are the G.o.ds around here."

Grof opened his mouth and started to respond, but Sam let him off the hook by jumping up and brushing past him. Stomping as loudly as the burly Trill, he headed down the ladder.

In the corridor outside the captain's quarters, Ro Laren compressed her lips in annoyance as she listened to the sounds of their prisoner kicking the bulkhead. Even though he had restraints on his arms and legs, he was still thrashing around like a fish in the bottom of a boat. She couldn't understand why Captain Picard had put the Carda.s.sian in their best cabin; whatever impression he wished to make, it was obviously lost on the brute.

The captain stood beside her, his jaw clenched. He motioned to four armed officers behind him and said, "Phasers set to heavy stun."

"We can't keep him stunned all the time," said Ro.

"I know. And I am open to other suggestions."

"We could throw him out an airlock."

The captain scowled. "That's not an option. If we could only interrogate him, he might be useful."

"Chances are good he doesn't know anything about the artificial wormhole," said Ro, "stationed in the middle of nowhere like he was. The Carda.s.sians are good at keeping secrets, even from each other. We could jeopardize the mission if we take him with us into the Badlands, and we'll be there soon."

"Nonetheless, Captain," said Picard with determination. "It is always worthwhile to try talking." He tapped his comm badge. "This is Boothby to the captain's quarters. Please quiet down and listen to me. You are our guest, and we would like to send you home."

But the ferocious thrashing went on, and it was now centered on the door itself. He could wreak some serious damage if left alone like this, thought Ro.

Picard glanced at the crew a.s.sembled to help them, and he picked the two stoutest officers. "You two, hand your weapons to the others, and let's subdue him by hand. Stand on either side of me. The rest of you, be prepared to use your phasers."

Ro hefted her Bajoran phaser rifle as Picard stepped closer to the door. After the two unarmed officers took up their places on either side of him, the captain reached a long arm across the bulkhead to touch the wall panel and open the cabin door.

As soon as the door slid open, the Carda.s.sian head-b.u.t.ted Picard sending him reeling into the bulkhead. Then came a howl of indignation as the Carda.s.sian hopped out, his legs bound together and his hands tied behind him. Lowering his shoulders, he bulled into the two unarmed guards and knocked them back on their heels. He hadn't looked so big lying on the deck, but now he looked huge, with his thick neck muscles bulging like the hood of a cobra.

"Surrender!" ordered Picard staggering to his feet.

"Die!" shrieked the Carda.s.sian. He lowered his head and charged toward the captain.

Ro lifted her rifle, ready to protect the captain, but he stepped gracefully away from the charge as he brought his knee upward in a swift kick. He caught the Carda.s.sian in the nose, and he howled as his head bounced. Then Picard grabbed him by the seat of his pants and tossed him headfirst to the deck. That should have subdued him, but the bloodied Carda.s.sian rolled onto his knees and tried to stand once more.