Star Trek Deep Space 9 Twilight - Mission Gamma 1 of 4

Twilight

All Stations, Report Status.

Tactical and communications, ready, Bowers said.

Science and sensors, ready. ChThane.

Impulse engines are online, warp power available on your command. Nog.

Life support at optimum. Medical bay standing by. Bashir.

The ship is ready, Captain, Dax said. Your orders?

Captain, Vaughn thought. A fellow could get used to that. Release docking clamps. Aft thrusters at

one-quarter, port and starboard thrusters at station-keeping. Around them, the ship seemed to change,

like a great beast waking from its slumber. Ahead of them loomed the great, exotic form of Deep Space

9, the station receding gradually before them.

Conn, Vaughn said, set course for the wormhole.

Course laid in.

Ahead one-half impulse, Vaughn said. Take us in.

Vaughn felt Defiant leap forward beneath him, charging toward the unknown. Their mission to explore

the Gamma Quadrant had begun.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors

imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or

dead, is entirely coincidental.

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To Patricia Ann Walenista,

one of the brightest stars in my sky,

whose glow bestows warmth,

whose light provides guidance,

and whose every rise brings love and support

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank several people for their generous assistance and incomparable support during the writing

of this novel. I must first express my gratitude to Marco Palmieri, not only for offering me this

opportunity, but also for providing expert guidance, vivid creativity, and an awful lot of fun along the way.

Marcos vision, enthusiasm, and drive for the Star Trek Deep Space Nine novel relaunch keeps me

coming back to the series as a reader and fan, and I am delighted to have been asked to contribute to the

unfolding saga. Not only is Marco terrific to work with, but hes also a good guy.

I would also like to thank the other writers of the Mission Gamma series, but in particular, Michael A.

Martin and Andy Mangels. Both cheerfully and expertly provided answers to innumerable questions, and

Mikes incredible volume of research for the relaunch made the difficult task of maintaining continuity

much less arduous. Thanks, too, to Keith R.A. DeCandido, who also answered several questions about

the Trek universe.

Because I did not get the opportunity to do so in the acknowledgments to The 34th Rule since he and I

wrote them togetherI want to thank Armin Shimerman, who suggested that we write a Star Trek novel in

the first place, and with whom it was an absolute pleasure to work. Armin is an incredibly talented

artistactor, writer, teacherand I am fortunate to be able to call him a friend. Im looking forward to his

next novel, Outrageous Fortune, a follow-up to his marvelous The Merchant Prince.

On an even more personal level, thanks to Richie Hertz, whose big-picture mentality, keen wit, and

razor-sharp intellect are surpassed only by his ability to turn on an inside fastball. He remains one of the

very few people I know who appreciates a good physics joke. I value his friendship beyond measure.

Thanks also to the Ragan family, who have always welcomed me into their midst. I especially want to

send my love and gratitude to Elizabeth, the loving and amazing matriarch; to Lillian, the sweet and caring

aunt; and to the wonderful Audrey and Walter, who have truly made me feel like their son.

I also want to thank Jennifer CJ George and Anita Smith, two magnificent women whose constant love

and encouragement never fail to bolster me. I am privileged to have them in my life.

And finally, thank you to Karen Ann Ragan-George. Each and every day, Karen does the impossible, by

transforming the woman of my dreams into the woman of my reality. She not only made this book

possible, she makes everything possible. To say that I could not have written this book without her love

and nurturing does not begin to describe her contribution to everything I do and everything I am. Karen is

my universeand what a fabulous place to live!

Part One

Vexed The Dim Sea

All times I have enjoyed

Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those

That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades

Vexed the dim sea.

A LFRED , L ORD T ENNYSON ,

U LYSSES

1

He watched her die, and in that terrible instant, he relived the moment of their separation, felt the weight

of the years since, and regretted everything.

Prynns body landed in a heap beside the captains chair, the foul smell of singed flesh already rising from

her. Elias Vaughn looked down at her as he leaped from the chair, and saw the midsection of her uniform

burned away. Past the seared edges of the fabric that remained, her skin was charred black. Blood

seeped from her mangled body and pooled in her wounds like crimson floodwaters across a ruined

landscape.

Vaughn pulled his gaze away and, with an emotional effort, moved past the remains of his daughter,

toward the console she had a moment ago been operating. He suppressed the ache growing within him

and focused on reaching the conn, on keeping Defiant intact and headed away from its attackers. Prynn

was dead, but the rest of the crew were not.

With each step, Vaughn felt the labored vibrations of the impulse drive translating through the deck

plates. Dark gray eddies of smoke swirled about the bridge, carrying with them the electric scent of

overheated circuitry. Flashes of scarlet, the visual call to battle stations, shined here and there through the

haze. He reached the conn and bent to assay the readouts, waving away the smoke with an open hand.

The low moan of the straining engines deepened as Vaughn eyed the display, and he was not surprised to

find the ship no longer holding course. He reached down to work the controls, but flames surged up from

beneath the console. Vaughn threw an arm up in front of his face as he staggered back a step, the intense

heat blistering his arm even through his uniform sleeve. The air pressure decreased a moment, the hungry

fire gathering fuel for itself. The flames sounded like a banner whipping in the wind, loud enough for

Vaughn to hear over the inconsistent thrum of the overburdened drive and the many alarms screaming for

the crews attention.

A voice called out above the dinWeapons power to the shields?only to be followed by another shouting

that Defiant s weapons were offline. Lieutenant Bowers at tactical, Lieutenant Nog at engineering,

Vaughn thought, startled for a moment to realize that he was not alone. Even as his instincts to save the

crew had driven him to action, their presence had vanished from his mind; for long seconds, his entire

universe had been smoke and flame, vibration and sound, and the image of his daughters mutilated

corpse.

Ensign chThane worked the sciences station, Vaughn thought, forcing himself wholly back into the

moment. And somewhere behind him, Lieutenant Dax and Dr. Bashir filled out the roster of bridge

personnel. If any of them were saying anything, he could not hear them.

Vaughn looked past his upraised arm and squinted at the fire engulfing the conn. Streaks of brilliant indigo

snaked up through the otherwise orange-yellow flames. Chromium, Vaughn thought, even as he began to

move again, the recollection or misrecollection of which elements burned which colors incongruously

percolating up from memory. He moved around the console and dropped to his knees. From this

vantage, he could see the jagged margin of a hole in the decking beneath the conn, the flames erupting

from it in great sheets. The explosion that had claimed Prynn had obviously occurred just below.

Defiant rocked suddenly and violently, inertial dampers failing for a second. Another Jarada disruptor

bolt, Vaughn guessed as he felt the ship pitch forward. Too close to his goal to give it up, and knowing

time was running out for the crew, he grabbed for the console support as he was thrown off balance.

Somehow, his fingers found their mark and took hold. Pain flared through his right hand, his flesh binding

itself to the hot metal in a horrible embrace. But he held on, pulling himself back to his knees and closer

to the underside of the console.

A disembodied voice yelled something Vaughn could not make out, the fire bellowing in his ears like the

roar of some mammoth molten beast. He listened for other words, but heard only the flames. A murky

cloud seemed to pass through his mind, like the smoke churning through the bridge. He realized he was

on the verge of losing consciousness.

With a bellow of his own, Vaughn thrust his free hand up under the conn and felt for the fire-suppression

canister. His uniform sleeve caught fire, and beneath it, so too did his skin. His fingertips brushed the

canister, amazingly still cool to the touch. Vaughn quickly pulled the cylinder free with one hand, then

pulled his other hand from the console support, the pain of his skin tearing away an afterthought in the

wake of his determination. He aimed and activated the canister, and a fog of chemical retardant spouted

out in a billowy white cone, extinguishing his flaming sleeve. Parts of his arm felt the cold of the chemicals,

but where his flesh had been scorched, it burned as though still afire.

Vaughn tilted the canister away from himself and attacked the flames where they emerged from the hole

in the decking. The fire retreated briefly, then resumed, and Vaughn feared it might win his battle with it.

He pushed himself forward beneath the conn and thrust the canister directly over the hole. The sound of

the flames drowned beneath the onslaught of the pressurized chemicals, and finally, so did the fire.

Vaughn continued spraying, emptying the canister into the hole. With the fire extinguished, the force of the

explosion that had caused it became clearas though Prynns maimed body were not proof enough. The

roughly circular hole beneath the conn stretched nearly a meter in diameter, Vaughn saw. The deck

plating twisted upward and outward, the metal blackened and bent as though it had offered the blast only

minimal resistance.

Aft shields failing, somebody shouted, the identity of the voice swallowed up by the discordant and

increasingly loud pulse of the impulse engines, the speaker hidden by the veil of smoke. Probably

Bowers, Vaughn thought as he rose to his feet. He dropped the canister to one side, but did not hear it

strike the deck above the cacophony permeating the bridge. Warning signals punctuated the clamor, and

though he could not make out their words, Vaughn heard other officers barking out information.

Vaughn bent over the conn, now between it and the forward viewer. He wanted to find the helm controls

and bring Defiant back on course. If they were far enough away from Torona IV, then he could engage

the warp driveprovided it was still intactand possibly outrun the Jarada before they had time to mount a

larger attack force.

The console was dark. The glassy surface of the display reflected the diffused overhead lighting, but no

controls and no readouts shined within. A jolt shook Vaughn as though he had been stunned with a

phaser. If they couldnt regain control of the ship, they had no chance of escaping the Jarada.

Vaughn looked up at the rest of the bridge, trying to see the crew through the haze. The ship shuddered

again beneath another assault, but it must have been a glancing blow, effectively dissipated by the ablative

armor, because nothing exploded and Vaughn was able to keep his feet. He waved at the smoke

swimming around him, the gray miasma thinning now that the fire was out and the ventilation system could

catch up.

He strained to see through the cloudy atmosphere. As the smoke swirled, he caught a glimpse of one of

the crew in profile at the rear of the bridge. Distinctive dark markings spilled from a temple down the side

of a fair face and neck, making the Trill unmistakable. Dax, he called, reroute flight control.

He watched her operate an aft console, and then she yelled, Ive got it.

Vaughn started toward the lieutenant, but stopped when he saw movement at the center of the bridge.

On the floor beside the command chair, Bashir leaned over Prynns unmoving body. The doctor held a

tricorder in one hand and an instrument Vaughn did not recognize in the other.

Vaughn looked at the inert face of his daughter. Her porcelain features, normally tense and expressive

despite their delicacy, were now slack, even peaceful, contradicting the awful mass of injuries her body

had sustained. For a moment, he saw Prynns mother, her own mien passiveat peace somehow, despite

her obvious understanding of what was soon to comein that instant he last saw her. He felt the familiar

rage and anguish building within him, the enormous guilt not far behind, and he wondered how this could

have happened again.

You have a mission, he told himself, and allowed the simple statementhis old mantrato carry him away

from his private darkness. He raced past Nog and Bowers, both intent on their consoles.

When he arrived beside Dax, her fingers were sprinting back and forth across the displayResequencing

the reactors, she said, raising her voice amid the tumultand after a few seconds, the vibrations of the

impulse drive steadied. Several alarms quieted too, lessening the commotion considerably; now only a

couple of staccato tones persisted in their warnings. Vaughn could have ordered them silenced, but they

were a source of information, and in any dangerous situation, he sought information. Taking evasive

action, Dax continued. Better than the sound of the stabilized engines and fewer alarms was no sound at

all the absence of Jarada weaponry landing on Defiant as the lieutenant maneuvered the ship.

How far from the planet? Vaughn wanted to know. Dax told him. They were still too close to go to warp

safely.

Two more Jarada heavies emerging from the far side of the second moon, Bowers called from his station.

Those were in addition to the pair of battleships Vaughn knew were already pursuing Defiant.

If we can stay at full impulse, Dax reported, checking her readouts, they wont be able to catch us. We

only have to worry about the ones already firing on us.

If only we could stand our ground and defend ourselves, Vaughn thought. This was not a fair fight,

though, and would not be even if Defiant s weapons could be brought back online. Not because the

bantam starship could not best a top-of-the-line Jarada vesselor even bear up against several of thembut

because this was a battle Defiant s crew could not join. The Jarada were a strange and reclusive species,

punctilious in the extreme, and often very difficult to deal with; they had once terminated contact with the

Federation for two decades after a UFP representative had mispronounced a single one of their words

during an introduction ceremony. But while temperamental in many regards, the Jarada were also in some

ways predictable they employed well-defined rules of engagement, and it was that fact about them that

constrained Vaughns actions right now.

Sir, Nog yelled, a second after another alarm began bleating. The impulse engines are losing power.

Vaughn looked to Dax, wanting the information to prove false, but the alarm and her expression told him

otherwise. And he had known better anyway in his experience, only good news ever turned out to be

suspect.

As if to underscore his thought, the tone of the impulse drive changed once more, flattening and slowing,

and then Defiant rattled again beneath the force of a disruptor bolt slamming into the ship. Sparks flew

from a port-side console, but despite the failure of the aft shields, the hull armor again withstood the

attack. Bowers confirmed this a moment later, but the continued existence of Defiant had already told

Vaughn what he needed to know. Effective as the ablative armor was at dissipating the effects of the

Jarada weaponry, though, it would not hold up indefinitely; each attack thinned the hull plating, Vaughn

knew, its layers vaporizing at the point of impact and dispersing the destructive energy out into space.

He stepped up to the tactical station, beside Bowers. Vaughn had actually anticipated the possibility of

something like this turn of events during the past couple of days, but there had been no apparent solution

other than for the crew to speed their way through it. And as bad as the situation now was, it would

deteriorate even further if Vaughn gave in to temptation and defended Defiant by means other than

retreat.

Less than three days ago, the Jarada had grudgingly helped the Federation save the lives of a half-million

people in the evacuation of the human civilization from Europa Nova. During an extended incident in

which previously unknown Iconian gatewaysessentially, open doorways linking noncontiguous and often

distant locationshad suddenly become operational, masses of lethally irradiated material had spilled out of

an orbital gateway and threatened the population of the planet. A convoy led by the Bajoran Militia had

managed to evacuate almost all of the Europani to safety, but five hundred thousand had been forced to

flee through a second gateway, this one on the surface of their world and linking to Torona IV, one of the

home planets of the Jarada.

Status, Vaughn said to Bowers.

Aft shields are gone. Aft armor down to sixty-seven percent. That measure would not need to diminish to

zero, Vaughn knew, before the hull ruptured beneath a disruptor hit. And when that happened, explosive

decompression would be just the beginning of a chain of rapid and catastrophic failures that would leave

only debris and a bright energy signature where Defiant had been.

What happened to those evasive maneuvers? Vaughn called back to Dax, though the answer was clear

as quickly and as well as the lieutenant had taken to the demands of command, she was a good pilot, but

not the career pilot that Prynn was.

That Prynn had been.

An unsettling mixture of pride and sorrow rose within Vaughn, quickly threatening to overwhelm him.

Pressure built behind his eyes, and it struck him that, for the first time in years, it would be an easy thing

to allow himself to break down, to give in to his pain and abdicate his responsibilities. But that was not

really an option. He willed himselfas he had so many times beforeto disconnect from his emotions. You

have a mission, he told himself again. If he survived this encounter with the Jarada, there would be time

later to mourn.

Dax announced an automated evasion sequence, and the impulse drive whined as it struggled to support

the new instructions. Vaughn felt a shift in the pit of his stomach, the gravity generators and inertial

dampers adjusting as Defiant sheared from its course. Tremors rumbled through the ships superstructure,

but at least for the moment, no weapons landed.

Vaughn peered at the main viewer. In his mind, he saw what was not visible on the screen the near pair

of Jarada ships dancing in lethal patterns about Defiant, the far pair charging toward the scene. He

searched his vast experience for similar predicaments and recalled several, but none in which his actions

had been so tightly restricted.

Vaughn had secured safe harbor on Torona IV for the evacuees by providing technical data about the

gateways to the Jarada. In the few days since, Europa Nova had been completely evacuated, and

Vaughn and his crew had then led a convoy to the Torona system. There, they had overseen the

relocation of the half-million Europani to Bajor, where the rest of their population awaited eventual return

to their world once it had been decontaminated. The last group of transports had broken orbit less than

an hour ago, and in that time, the Jarada had apparently discovered that the gateways had been shut

down, possibly for good, and certainly for the foreseeable future. Considering their xenophobic nature,

the Jarada might have welcomed this, but instead, with the technical information they had been given now

valueless to them, they had chosen to believe themselves duped by Vaughn.

The near ships are splitting up, Bowers said. Vaughn turned from the main viewerthe starfield swooped

and dashed, seemingly at random, he saw, as Dax tried to evade their attackersand looked at the tactical

officer. The alert lighting tinted the young mans dark skin on and off with a rich, rosy glow. Theyre

moving to flank us, the lieutenant said, his tone a blend of resignation and anger, Vaughn thought. The far

ships are closing the gap. Theyll be in weapons range soon.

The initial attack on Defiant had come as the crew had prepared to leave orbit about Torona IV and

begin the return journey to DS9. Vaughn had been speaking via subspace with a representative of the

planetary regime, thanking him for the forbearance of his people in allowing the Europani on their soil.

The official had responded with accusations of duplicity, the harsh, insectile clattering of his voice

breaking into the smooth speech of the universal translator when his words could not adequately be

interpreted. Before Vaughn could explain or apologize or offer some sort of recompense, the Jarada

vessel assigned to escort Defiant within the Torona system had attacked. An instant later, planetary

defenses had launched their own massive barrage, and a second Jarada vessel had charged into battle.

Defiant had withstood the initial assaults, the substantially fortified ship among the toughest in Starfleet,

but it had also suffered significant damage. Vaughn had taken the only action he could he had ordered

retreat. If Defiant defended itself by employing any of its weaponry, he knew, the military protocols of the

Jarada would send them in pursuit of the convoy. Almost the entire evacuation force consisted of

freighters and personnel transports, civilian vessels incapable of outrunning Jarada warships, and with

virtually no weapons or defense systems. The convoy carried a hundred thousand Europani, not to

mention thousands of crew; the loss of life would be enormous.

How long? Vaughn asked Bowers, wanting to know how much time they had before they were besieged

by all four Jarada ships.

Six minutes.

Vaughn raised his hand to his forehead and wiped it clear of sweat. The air on the bridge, though steadily

clearing of smoke, was stifling.

Do we have warp drive? Vaughn asked.

The warp engines are intact, Nog told him, but theres a microfracture in the port nacelle.

How bad?

Bad enough we wouldnt be able to maintain warp for more than a few seconds. Nog peered over his

shoulder, and Vaughn noticed a gloss of perspiration coating the lieutenants face, his huge, ribbed ears,

and his large, bald head.

How many? Vaughn asked. He peered over at the main viewer again. He saw only stars, but pictured the

two trailing Jarada warships descending toward Defiant, ready to join with their sister ships to put an

explosive end to this one-sided battle.

How many what? Nog sounded confused, as though Vaughn had asked the question in another language.

How many seconds would we be able to maintain warp?

Nogs eyes narrowed, the fleshy ridge that ran from the top of each ear and across his brow descending

in perplexity. Still, he turned to consult his console. Forty seconds at most, he said at last. But maybe no

more than twenty-five.

Lieutenant, Vaughn said to Dax. How much time before were at a safe distance to go to warp?

Seven minutes on a linear course, Dax answered immediately. Almost a minute and a half after the third

and fourth Jarada ships get here.

Vaughn turned in place, surveying the bridge, his mind working over the facts of the situation. They had

to remain out of weapons range of the second pair of Jarada vessels; once those two ships entered the

battle, it would end quickly. Vaughn could risk going to warp as close as Defiant was to Torona IV, and

the ship would likely be safe. Employing warp drive this deep in a planetary gravity well carried a risk, to

be sure, but incidents rarely occurred. The real problem would be that the Jarada would view such an

action as depraved disregard for their world and their people, which would drive them to pursue the

convoy.

Vaughns gaze fell to the center of the bridge, to the captains chair. To his surprise, Prynns corpse no

longer lay beside it, nor was Dr. Bashir still there. With all the commotion, Vaughn had not even heard

the sound of the transporter.

Fury swam up from the depths of Vaughns submerged emotions. His body involuntarily tensed, his wrath

driving him toward physical action. His jaw set, his teeth clenched, his hands drew into fists. The Jarada

had attacked Defiant and killed his only childwere still attacking, attempting to kill all the crewand for

what? Because they had been asked to assist in the rescue of a half-million people, and the price they

had been paid had not satisfied them? Vaughns lips pressed together, his eyes slammed shut, and in his

intensity he wanted to return fire, wanted to vent the destructive power of this ship that had been

designed to repel a Borg incursion. He visualized the remnants of the Jarada ships scattered harmlessly

across the expanse of space.

The orders he knew he would not give floated through his mind Lock pulse phaser cannons. Arm

quantum torpedoes. Fire at will. Vaughn craved to avenge his daughter, and to guarantee the safety of the

crew, but he understood well the repercussions of launching any assault against the Jarada under these

circumstances. He thought briefly of the only other military vessel besides Defiant to accompany the

convoy. The Cardassian cruiser Trager had remained well outside the Torona system during the

evacuation, so that its presence would not incite the Jarada. But even if Trager were not still damaged

from its many battles during the Dominion War, it would not be able to defend dozens of civilian vessels

against an attack by a squadron of Jarada warshipsan attack that would surely come should Defiant open

fire.

Vaughn opened his eyes, again settling his emotions through a conscious effort. He slowed his breathing

and tried to let go the tension in his body. His fingers unfurled, and he realized that his right hand hurt

badly, the enveloping throb of his heartbeat a clockwork agony pressing in on his wounds.

Vaughn dismissed the pain as best he could, then turned toward Bowers. Status of the cloaking device?

he asked, still searching for the tactics that would see the crew safely back to DS9.

Operational, Bowers said.

I thought we were not supposed started Ensign chThane, but then he abruptly stopped speaking. Vaughn

looked toward the sciences console, over on the port side of the bridge. Even though chThane had

already returned his attention to his readouts, Vaughn still perceived embarrassment in the science

officers tense back and hunched shoulders, the slightly curled posture of his antennae. Amid the turmoil,

Vaughn unexpectedly felt one side of his mouth curl upward in a half-smile. He did not find the

questioning of his prospective orders amusing, but the ensigns discomfiture was curious. From what

Charivretha had related to him, young Shar stood well accustomed to challenging authority.

What about the shields? Vaughn asked Bowers. The air on the bridge, he noticed, was almost entirely

clear of smoke now, though the ashen taste of the fires residue still remained.

Aft shields are gone, Bowers said. Remaining shields down to thirty-seven percent port, fifty-one percent

fore and starboard. He pressed a couple of touchpads and consulted a readout before continuing.

Ablative armor buckled on the port impulse casing. Weve got a small hull rupture.

Were leaking deuterium there, Nog added. Thats the source of the power drain.

Does the leak affect all the impulse engines? Vaughn asked.

No, Nog said. Just the port engine.

Can we shut it down and reroute power to the other two? Vaughn suggested. And flush the deuterium so

were not leaving a trail for our friends? He gestured vaguely in the direction of Defiant s stern.

Nog operated his console. We can stop the leak by shutting down the port engine, he confirmed. But

weve got nowhere to take power from for the other two. Weapons systems are down, shields are failing

Get ready to do it, Vaughn ordered, cutting the engineer off. To Dax, he said, Prepare to give me a linear

course.

Yes, sir.

Vaughn paced over to the engineering station and leaned in over Nogs shoulder to peer at the displays.

On my mark, take the port engine offline and vent the deuterium. Then reroute all available power to the

other impulse engines, everything but for gravity, the cloaking device, and whatever you need for the

warp drive.

Nogs eyes remained focused on his console, his hands working to set up the reconfiguration of the ships

systems, even as he sought clarification of Vaughns orders. Everything?

Everything, Vaughn said. Then, to be sure there was no mistake, he added, Shields, any reserves left in

the weapons, transporters, communications, sensors, life support. To the crew, Vaughn supposed, the

orders must have sounded desperate, but he did not have time to explain why this course would provide

them the best chance for survival. The Jarada were nothing if not intensely territorial; if they couldnt

destroy Defiant, theyd be satisfied to drive her out of their domain, and the incident would end here.

Escape meant the hundred thousand Europani still in transit to Bajor would be safe.

Ensign chThane, Vaughn said, stepping away from the engineering console. Apprise the medical bay. If

any casualties were being treated, the medical staff would need to know about the interruption of power.

Sir, Nog said. If were at warp and the fracture in the nacelle widens, we could go up in a fireball.

And if we stay here and allow four Jarada battleships to attack us in tandem, we will go up in a fireball.

Vaughn made sure his tone left no doubt that his orders would stand. He had planned enough operations

in his career, developed enough strategies, solved enough problems, that hesitation had long ago been

banished from his decision-making process. Time until the trailing ships are in weapons range? Vaughn

asked.

Three minutes, twenty seconds, Dax said.

Thats how much time weve got to get far enough away from Torona IV to go to warp. Can we do it?

Depending on how much power we draw, Nog began, how much power there is His voice trailed off.

You dont know?

Id have to run an analysis, and thatd take a couple of minutes.

No time, Vaughn agreed. Lieutenant, he said to Dax, shortest route, now. Then, touching the fingers of

his right hand to Nogs shoulder, he said, Go.

Nog responded by working his console, his hands moving with expert precision across the controls. His

demeanor seemed to change slightly, Vaughn noticed, almost as though the engineer found relief in having

something specific to do. In the short time Vaughn had been aboard Deep Space 9not much more than a

monthhe had been impressed by Nog, and even seen the stations recently promoted operations officer

grow in confidence. There was still something innocent and even wide-eyed about him, perhaps a healthy

fear of the unknown and of death, but there was, Vaughn thought, a great deal of potential in the young

man. And Nogs engineering skills only slightly overshadowed his remarkable ability to improvise.

As Nog discharged his orders, Defiant transformed. The atonal groan of the port impulse engine

disappeared, leaving the smoother, softer hum of the pair that remained online. The shuddering of the

deck also smoothed out.

Port engine is offline, Nog said. Deuterium conduits are clear. Im rerouting power.

Sensors and shields last, Bowers said.

The insistent, blaring alarms cut off abruptly. Even with the sound of the impulse drive, the bridge

suddenly seemed almost quiet to Vaughn. He looked around in time to see most of the stations go dark

environmental control, transporter operations, communications. When the sciences console lost power,

Ensign chThane rotated his chair around to face the rest of the bridge. His antennae no longer bent

downward, Vaughn saw, but seemed tense, as did the expression on his face. Hes trying to control his

fear, Vaughn thought, and then, recalling the Andorian response to danger, corrected himself Not fear;

anger. Something flickered off to the right, and Vaughn looked to see that the main viewer had gone

blank.

Power levels are coming up, Nog reported as he continued to redirect the ships systems to funnel into the

impulse engines.

The lights went next, plunging the bridge into momentary darkness before the emergency lighting came

on. The few wisps of smoke still hovering about looked to Vaughn like phantoms haunting the scene. He

found the pall menacing, and it occurred to him that he had spent a great deal of his careera great deal of

his lifebathed in the gloomy twilight of impending danger.

And then the emergency lighting went out. A claustrophobic blackness surrounded Vaughn. Only the

engineering and tactical stations, and Daxs rerouted flight-control display, remained operational, their

lonely glow like beacons in the night. The bulkheads felt closer now, and Vaughn was acutely aware of

the smallness of Defiant about him, and of his own insignificance in the vastness of space.

The resonant drone of the impulse engines grew louder again, but remained steady this time. Were

approaching ninety percent of full impulse, Dax said, her face barely visible in the reflected light of her

console.

The near ships are closing in again, Bowers said, his words coming quickly and loudly.

They dont Vaughn started, but then a thunderous jolt pounded Defiant, and another. Vaughn reached for

the back of Nogs chair, but missed, and he went sprawling backward onto the deck. No alarms

sounded, but something hissed loudly in the darkness. Vaughn rolled to his feet and looked toward

tactical, where Bowerss shadowy figure hovered over his station.

Starboard shields are down, Bowers called out. Aft armor down to The tactical officer stopped speaking

as his own console went dark. Vaughn could no longer see even a dim outline of the man. Aft armor

down to twenty-three percent, Bowers continued, obviously reporting the last reading he had seen.

Sensors and shields rerouted, Nog reported, finding the last bits of power for the impulse engines.

They werent prepared for that burst of impulse power, Dax said. We may have time before they can

swing around for another pass. Another pass, another disruptor strike like the last one, Vaughn knew,

and Defiant s armor might not hold.

Time, Vaughn said. The hissing stopped, but again the sound of the impulse drive wavered.

Estimating ninety seconds before the third and fourth ships get here, Dax said. Eighty seconds before we

can go to warp. If the impulse engines hold up.

Good, Vaughn thought. They had made up time. He hoped it would be enough. Moving through the

darkened bridge from memory, he found the center seat and settled into it.

One minute until we can go to warp. Dax said. With sensors offline, I cant tell where the Jarada ships

are. Vaughn thought he heard the confidence present in the lieutenants voice up to this point begin to

drain away.

Another blast rocked the ship, though not as violently as the previous strikes. Had it, Vaughn realized,

Defiant would likely not still be here. He stopped himself from asking Bowers for a status update; with

the tactical station down, there was no way to know how much more the aft armor had degraded. But

Vaughn did not need that data to know that Defiant would not survive another assault.

Fifty seconds, Dax said. Then Were not going to make it.

Vaughn turned in his chair toward Dax. She was staring intently at her console, her face shining orange in

its light. He could not make out the spots on the side of her face, but he could see her inexperience in her

expression.

So young, he thought, and then about Shar and Nog, and even about Bowers and Bashir Theyre all so

young. Still, Daxs eyes never left her display. She was good, this one, and strong; command had been the

right choice for her. Vaughn had no idea how good a counselor she might have become had she

continued in that profession, but he was confident that, given the chance, she would make a fine

commander, and sooner rather than later. And so he chose to trust her instincts now.

Evasive maneuvers, Lieutenant, he said, but give me no more than another seven seconds on our course.

Daxs hands moved in swift response to the order even before her acknowledgment passed her lips. She

anticipated me, Vaughn realized, and wondered just how far a career in command might take her.

Vaughn faced forward in his chair, staring through the darkness toward the main viewer, which he could

not see, and which was offline anyway. His right hand was a knot of pain, but it paled beside the ache in

his heart. Just ahead of him, the indistinct shape of the conn rose from the deck, a mute marker of his

daughters violent death. He looked down to the side of the captains chair, to where Prynn had been

thrown by the explosion that had taken her away from him for good. In his minds eye, he saw her lying

there, the spark of life gone from her visage. He remembered that spark, that flash in her eyes, from the

moment they had succeeded in evacuating the last of the Europani from their poisoned world, when she

had smiled at him for the first time in years. And he remembered it from her childhood, and even before,

from the time she had been an infant. Her dark, almond eyes had always seemed amazingly vivid to him,

as though they contained the passion of her will. They were Rurikos eyes.

Forty seconds, Dax said. Back on a linear course.

A chill gripped Vaughn as he sat in the darkness. The air on the bridge was still oppressively warmthe

environmental systems had not been offline that long yetbut he envisioned the absolute cold of space

bleeding away the kernel of heat generated on Defiant to sustain the crew. The image recalled the

dreadful tableau Vaughn and an Enterprise away team had found not long ago aboard Kamal, a derelict

Cardassian freighter adrift in the Badlands. Bodies everywhere, Bajorans and Cardassians frozen in

death.

That had been a part of the incident that had driven Vaughn to Deep Space 9, away from the career he

had workedthe life he had livedfor the past eighty years. Decisions of life and death, killing some so that

others might live, battling alongside evil in order to conquer even greater evils. He had seen and

experienced as much of thatmore, much more, he amendedthan he had ever wanted to. And so he had

made the decision to live a life not laced with sorrow and regret, and to seek not ugliness and horror to

be vanquished, but beauty and wonder to be explored. Yet here he was again, faced with risking Defiant

s crew of forty to save a hundred thousand.

Thirty seconds.

Vaughn braced himself, waiting for the final salvo that would boil away and penetrate the only protection

Defiant had astern. Seconds ticked away in agonizing slowness.

When Dax reached ten, Vaughn told Nog to bring all systems back online. One step at a time, the ship

limped back to life lights rescued the bridge from darkness, consoles blinked back on, alarms cried out

once more.

At zero, Vaughn said, raising his voice to be heard above the alerts, shut down the impulse drive.

Aye, sir, Nog said.

Dax counted out the last five seconds with an expectant tone, and Vaughn thought he heard the return of

her determination with each word. After One, Dax said, Were clear for warp.

At once, the thrum of the impulse engines faded, the tone deepening as the volume decreased. Vaughn

said nothing, instead counting out another three seconds to himself.

Sir? It was Bowers, an edge clearly audible in his voice. He had expected the order to go to warp as

soon as they were able, Vaughn surmised. But with all those civilian lives dependent upon what they did

here, Vaughn could not afford to act without a margin of error.

Ignoring Bowers, he told Dax, Go to maximum warp for ten seconds, then throttle down to warp

three-point-seven and take evasive action. The lieutenant did not bother to acknowledge the orders as

she set about implementing them. Vaughn imagined he could feel Defiant leap to warp.

Monitor the fracture, Vaughn said to Nog.

Aye, sir.

The Jarada have gone to warp, Bowers said. All four ships. Theyre in pursuit.

Engage cloak, Vaughn said.

Bowerss fingers played across the control surfaces of the tactical station, but he hesitated before

completing the command. Sir, the Jarada will be able to read us cloaking. The lieutenants hand hovered a

few centimeters above his console.

Do it, Vaughn ordered. Bowers complied, immediately bringing his hand down on a blinking touchpad.

The bridge lighting dimmed in the telltale way that signaled the ships stealth mode to the crew.

Come on, Vaughn thought, exhorting the Jarada to keep up their pursuit. He expected them to read

Defiant cloaking, just as he expected that they had already read the microfracture in the warp nacelle. It

never paid, Vaughn knew, to underestimate the enemy.

Warp three-point-seven, Dax said. Starting evasive maneuvers.

Star Trek Deep Space 9 Twilight - Mission Gamma 1 of 4

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