The Dominion War_ Behind Enemy Lines Part 11

"Cease resistance!" warned Picard.

"No!" Eyes bulging from their bony sockets, the Carda.s.sian flopped onto his back and tried to kick Picard. Amidst his enraged grunts and groans, the captain's comm badge sounded.

"That's enough," he told Ro. "Stun him."

She shot her weapon, and the red beam finally put the wild prisoner back into blessed unconsciousness. Only then did Picard answer his comm badge. "Boothby here."

"Sir, you'd better get to the bridge," said a nervous voice. "We've picked up enemy ships on our tail, closing fast!"

Chapter Eight.

RO FOLLOWED CAPTAIN PICARD onto the bridge of the Orb of Peace. The relief personnel had an edgy look about their eyes, and they didn't seem Bajoran anymore, despite the nose ridges and earrings. Maybe it was the human scent of their sweat.

The man on the conn jumped to his feet when he saw Picard.

"Status?" barked Picard as Ro headed toward the conn.

"Three Jem'Hadar attack ships are on an intercept course with us," reported the officer, stepping aside to let the Bajoran take his seat. "They're going twice our speed, and they'll be in weapons range in approximately thirty-six minutes."

"And how much time to the Badlands?"

"Approximately forty minutes," answered Ro.

Picard scowled, and she could feel his frustration. They were so close to reaching a hiding place, only minutes away, but the hounds were running them aground. Ro knew this feeling of dread-to run for her life with time counting against her.

"Evasive maneuvers?" she asked.

"Not yet," replied the captain, tapping his finger to his chin. "Steady as she goes."

Ro knew that Picard was reviewing his options, but they weren't many. They were no match for one Jem'Hadar ship, let alone three, and they couldn't explain making a mad dash to the Badlands. This time, they probably wouldn't even get a chance to talk to the enemy before the attack began.

"They must have us on scanners," said Ro. "I'm sure they're watching every move we make. Evasive maneuvers might work against bigger ships, but not against these. The Jem'Hadar attack ships are the most maneuverable vessels we've ever seen."

"The Orb of Peace has two operational escape pods. Let's put our Carda.s.sian friend into one of those pods and launch him toward a planet. If they're watching us, they'll have to stop to investigate, especially after they scan and find a Carda.s.sian on board," said Picard.

Ro tugged thoughtfully on her earring. "We'll have to come out of warp, which will cost us some time, but it will be worth it."

"Captain," said the officer on ops, "may I remind you that we need both of those escape pods to evacuate the ship's crew. If we're missing one, eight crew members cannot evacuate."

The captain gazed at Ro, and the Bajoran knew from his determined expression that they were still on the same frequency. This mission would either result in success or death, perhaps both, so there was no point in planning for survival in Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce. When Picard armed the self-destruct sequence, they had both known it would be all or nothing.

Will Riker had been right-this was a suicide mission.

Picard leaned over her. "Attend to it, Ro. Ready escape pod one, and put the prisoner into it. Tie him down securely."

"Don't worry about that," she a.s.sured the captain.

A short while later, a snarling Carda.s.sian strapped to a vertical seat tried to spit in Ro's face, but she jerked away just in time. He ended up drooling on his angular chin and staring hatefully at her. She didn't want to sink to his level, but she lifted a spool of metal-coated tape and waved it in his face. "I could shut you up."

"You ... you are cowards!" sputtered the prisoner. "Terrorists!" He gasped when a muscular officer tugged sharply on the belt stretching across his chest.

Because the cramped sphere was designed to fly automatically toward an inhabited planet and make an atmospheric reentry, anyone aboard would have to be strapped in his seat. The Carda.s.sian was simply strapped in more securely than usual, with his hands and legs bound together with metal tape and strips.

"We're letting you go," said Ro, "so I don't know why you're so angry with us."

"Bajorans!" he hissed. "We should have killed you all!"

"You tried," said Ro evenly. "In fact, if our roles were reversed, I'm sure you would just toss my body out an airlock. But we've treated you like a gul. We put you up in the captain's quarters, and now we're sacrificing this whole escape pod just to let you go free. You ought to be grateful."

The Carda.s.sian growled and tried to twist out of his bonds, but they held tightly. Ro had made sure to get the same two officers who had tried to subdue him earlier; they had scores of their own to settle. She wanted to ask him about the artificial wormhole, and she would have, if they were going to slit his throat instead of let him go. But asking him about the wormhole would reveal their mission, and it probably wouldn't garner them any information.

In fact, maybe this was a good time to impart some false intelligence. "We're neutral, you know," explained Ro. "We're not interested in your stupid war with the Federation. We have some terrorists still hiding out in the Badlands, and we're only trying to rescue them. So if you leave us alone, we'll finish our mission and go home. You'll never know we were here."

"I'll know, because you've ruined my career!" wailed the Carda.s.sian. "Why don't you just kill me? After failing to protect the station and being kidnapped, I'll be lucky not to be sent to a work camp!"

"These are dangerous times," replied Ro. She looked at her comrades, and they nodded, signaling they were through. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice flight."

Ro and the two officers ducked through the hatch, which she secured herself. Then she cleared the airlock and listened to the air escape with a hiss. Like most escape pods, this one was jettisoned into s.p.a.ce by an array of tiny thrusters, and its flight was totally automated. All that was needed was to enter the coordinates of the destination planet, hit the launch b.u.t.ton, and hope for the best.

She tapped her comm badge. "Ro to bridge. Our pa.s.senger is secure in escape pod one."

"Good," answered Picard crisply. "We're working on his itinerary. We've got several possibilities, but we need to find a planet which will allow us to jump out of warp and back quickly. We can enter the coordinates from here, so you can return to the bridge."

"Yes, sir."

A minute later, Ro stood on the bridge, explaining to the captain how she had told the prisoner they were on a simple rescue mission to the Badlands.

"Do you think he believed it?" asked Picard.

"That's hard to say," answered Ro. "He was mostly upset that we wrecked his career."

"Coming within range of H-574," announced the conn. "Optimal launch window in forty seconds."

Picard turned to tactical and asked, "How far are we from our pursuers?"

"At present speed and course, we will make contact in approximately twenty minutes."

"Come out of warp, half-impulse," ordered Picard, "and prepare to launch escape pod one."

"Yes, sir," answered three voices at once.

Stepping out of the way, Ro watched the viewscreen as the Orb of Peace slowed down just long enough to jettison the escape pod. The tiny sphere shot into s.p.a.ce like an ancient musket ball and swerved toward a nearby planet covered with shimmering blue water and emerald islands, sparkling in the sun. The Carda.s.sians had all these beautiful planets, thought Ro, and they begrudged the Maquis even one little rock.

"Escape pod on course," reported the officer on ops.

"Set course for the Badlands, maximum warp," ordered Picard. "Engage."

Once again, they were streaking through s.p.a.ce at an incredible speed that was faster than light but wasn't faster than the three Jem'Hadar attack craft. There was silence on the bridge and little to discuss until they saw how their pursuers responded to the escape pod. Ro wondered whether they would take the bait, and if so, how many of them would be delayed.

When the tactical officer spoke, her voice betrayed the uncertain nature of the news: "Captain, one of the Jem'Hadar ships has broken off in pursuit of the escape pod. The other two remain on an intercept course with us. Contact in approximately twelve minutes."

Picard glanced at Ro. "That's about the best we could expect. Any more ideas on how to even the odds?"

"Well," answered the Bajoran, "there's an old trick we used to use on Starfleet. When you have a small craft traveling at warp speed, it's almost impossible to distinguish it on long-range scans from a photon torpedo at warp speed, especially if you set it for indefinite distance and no detonation."

Picard scratched his chin, and a smile of appreciation crept across his face. "You mean, use torpedoes as decoys?"

"Yes. We could launch two torpedoes, one of them on the course we're traveling now, and the second one on another likely course to the Badlands. We'll pick a third course and hope they go after the two decoys."

"We'll have to match speed exactly," said Picard, sounding excited-or concerned, it was hard to tell. He hovered over the tactical station. "Do you understand what Captain Ro is proposing?"

"Yes, sir," answered the officer, plying her console. "I'm configuring torpedoes now: one for our exact heading and one for ten degrees to port. They're set for no target, indefinite distance, no detonation, and warp speed matching ours."

"Right, stand by." Picard stepped across the cramped bridge to the conn. "Set course ten degrees to starboard. We'll enter the Badlands at a different place than we planned, but that can't be helped. We'll slow our warp speed by point-zero-five to launch torpedoes, then change course and resume maximum warp."

"Yes, sir," said the pilot. He glanced at Ro and gave her a grateful smile. Although she hadn't saved his life yet, the young man was hopeful that she would.

"I should point out that we will be reduced to four torpedoes," said the tactical officer.

"Acknowledged." If it pained the captain to use his torpedoes for subterfuge instead of a real attack, he didn't show it.

"Course changes laid in," reported the conn.

With a glance at Ro, Picard brought his hand down. "Reduce speed."

"Speed reduced," echoed the conn.

"Fire!"

"Torpedoes away," announced tactical.

"Changing course," said the conn. "Resuming speed."

Now it was time to wait again, to see if the Jem'Hadar fell for the parlor trick. A tense silence fell over the bridge, and it wasn't a.s.suaged by the fact that they could see the Badlands on the viewscreen, shimmering in the distance. Although the forbidding cloud appeared relatively close, it was a long way in an underpowered Bajoran transport chased by swift fighters.

"This is a trick I hadn't heard of before," said Picard conversationally. "And we've been studying Maquis tactics very closely the last few months."

"You need a small ship," answered Ro. "I'm worried that this one may be too large."

"It's worth a try," said Picard. "If they change course at all to chase the decoys, we'll pick up valuable minutes."

With everyone staring intently at their readouts or the viewscreen, the gasp of the tactical officer made them jump. Ro whirled around to see her triumphant grin. "Both Jem'Hadar vessels are following the decoy on our old course."

She stared intently at her instruments, and everyone else stared intently at her. After a minute that seemed like a day, the implants over her nose wrinkled into a frown. "Now one attack ship has changed course and is in pursuit of us. They'll be in weapons range in eight minutes."

"How long to the Badlands?"

"Eleven minutes."

"All right, we're down to one," said Picard. "That is certainly much better odds than I expected. Maintain course and speed."

"Yes, sir."

Now it was Ro's turn to hover over the conn station. "Listen, the Badlands are a plasma dust cloud, and instruments are completely useless there. So the sooner we reach it, the better. Like most dust clouds, it has fingers and tendrils which stretch into surrounding s.p.a.ce. If we can find a tendril, maybe we can cut our time getting there."

Picard walked to the viewscreen and studied the octopus-like cloud that loomed in front of them. He pointed to a ma.s.sive finger of dust shaped like a horse's head. "There-that looks promising."

"If I change course," said the conn, "we could reach it maybe two minutes sooner. But we wouldn't have time to scan the area before we entered."

"We don't have much choice." Picard turned back to Tactical. "What's the position of the second craft?"

"They've broken off pursuit of the decoy," answered the young woman, not hiding her disappointment. "They're on an intercept course, but they won't reach us in time. Only the first one is a threat."

"Change course, most direct route," ordered Picard.

"Yes, sir. Course laid in."

The captain tapped his comm badge. "Bridge to Engineering. Geordi, we need you to boost our warp speed-right now. Any increase would help."

"We're in the red zone now, Captain," replied the engineer, "but I can shut down the safety overrides and coax a bit more out of her."

"Make it so."

"Captain," interrupted the woman on tactical, "they're sending a message, demanding that we stop and surrender. The message is repeating on all frequencies."

"They don't want to talk," said Ro.

"Ignore it," replied Picard. "How many of our torpedoes are aft-mounted?"

"Only two."

Two or twenty, it didn't matter, thought Ro, because the Orb of Peace wasn't a warship. If they didn't make the Badlands in time to hide, the Jem'Hadar would pick them apart.

"Lead ship has launched a torpedo," cut in the tactical officer, surprise in her voice. "But they won't be in optimal range for several minutes."

"But their torpedo will reach us a few seconds before they do," said Picard. "We're both playing for seconds now. Conn, maintain course and speed, but be ready to go to evasive maneuvers."

"We can't use our standard patterns," replied the officer.

"Devise something simple but effective, based on the alpha pattern, but keep us headed toward that tendril."