Star Trek Deep Space 9 21Trial By Error

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Star Trek - DS9 - 021 - Trial By Error
CHAPTER 1
"ON-SCREEN!" CAPTAIN DOLRAS snapped, lowering himself into the command chair. He leaned
forward and stared at the main viewscreen. What was that strange dark cloud?
The other Klingons around him fell silent. None of the gruff banter that normally broke the monotony of
space travel now, Dolras thought, allowing himself a mental nod. Yes, they were a good crew, even if
they had to serve aboard a military freighter like the Toknor.
Now, with only the electronic chatter of instrument consoles and the soft, habitual ratcheting sound of the
crew's leather vestments breaking the silence, Dolras looked to his left, to Lieutenant Kotren. His science
officer might be young, but Dolras expected nothing less than excellence trom hlm, and he expected it
now. "Sensor update!" Kotren stared at his screens, a puzzled look on his face. He didn't know what
was out there either, Dolras realized. None of them had ever seen anything like it.
"We still lack positive readings," Kotren said. "I am recalibrating the primary array." Disgruntled, Dolras
turned his attention back to the main viewscreen. The forward image showed only a vague, hazy, clouded
area of space with no clear boundaries. Yet it showed up as an energy field of some kind.
"The anomaly continues to block our path," said Thrann, Dolras's first officer, who had taken the helm at
his captain's request.
Dolras squinted as he leaned forward, baring his sharp teeth, privately savoring his own instinctive
reaction, that of a hunter considering his prey, a warrior sizing up a possible foe. Space travel had
changed the Klingon heart very little, had not lessened the unfailing urge to embrace confrontation, to
accept challenge, Dolras thought. But he needed more than instinct here. Passion alone would not make
the image or a proper course of action any clearer.
His mission was a simple one: survey a sector of what the High Council considered non-Dominion space
in the Gamma Quadrant, collect sensor data and geological samples, and then return to the Alpha
Quadrant. The risk lay in determining if the sector truly was outside the Dominion's primary
boundaries--which, as far as Dolras was concerned, had proven to be the case.
Several unknown vessels had dogged his trail from time to time, but none had dared to challenge him.
In fact, except for the odd cloud, the mission had been quite unremarkable. There had, however, been
one other exception.
Two days ago the Toknor had encountered the remains of a Karama ship--the Karama were a race
known to do business with the Jem'Hadar. The ship had been almost completely destroyed, and there
was ample evidence to attribute its destruction to extremely high-energy weapons fire. Since establishing
their recent presence in Cardassian space, officers of the Klingon Empire had gathered a considerable
amount of intelligence on the Jem'Hadar.
While it was true that the Jem'Hadar possessed formidable weapons, the Toknor's computer could not
attribute the Karama ship's destruction to any of them.
Two unknowns, Dolras thought, still observing the second one. He didn't like it. Could there be a
connection?
Dolras had stayed near the Karama ship as long as he could, examining unremarkable long-range sensor
reports. Then he had moved on, deeper into the Gamma Quadrant and farther away from Dominion
space, all the while wondering what was out there waiting for them.
2 3 So Iar he considered the mission a success because it had resulted in a considerable store of new
planetary and even some cultural data of the kind that could be analyzed to provide valuable trade and
military intelligence. And Klingon mission parameters did not necessarily include the investigation of space
phenomena, which ordinarily was all well and good to Dolras's mind. But this unidentified energy field
had been following his freighter ever since the Toknor had left orbit around a small, rather unremarkable
planetoid roughly one-quarter light-year back. Sometimes it was ahead of them, and sometimes it was
behind. It almost seemed to be studying them.
At present the energy cloud lay dead ahead. But not for long, if Dolras had anything to say about it.
"Evasive maneuvers, Thrann," Dolras told his first officer. "Maximum impulse." He would see exactly
what their little cloud did. Thrann quickly complied.
Dolras watched as the ghostly patch of space, some five hundred meters across, appeared to remain
stationary in the viewer as the Toknor changed course.
"The field continues to pace us," Thrann reported.
Dolras frowned. "How far are we from the wormhole?" They were in no immediate jeopardy, as far as
he could tell, but this anomaly was becoming a real concern.
"At warp six, two-point-one days," Thrann said.
That was nearly the maximum sustainable speed for the Toknor, but Dolras knew he could squeeze warp
six-five out of her for at least two-point-one days. And in any case, there was no reason to believe the
anomaly was capable of warp speeds. The Toknor had been completing a sensor sweep, traveling at
three-quarters impulse since leaving the vicinity of the planetold.
"Bring us one hundred eighty degrees about," Dolras ordered. He watched closely as the anomaly circled
to the Toknor's stern. Good, he thought.
"Set a direct course for the wormhole and prepare to go to warp. But wait for my order." Dolras looked
up. "Kotren!" "Sir?" "Tell us something worthwhile!" His science officer turned, forehead ridges damp
with sweat, his expression intensely serious.
"I am still evaluating our data," Kotren said.
Our lack of data, Dolras thought. He knew Kotren was giving his captain and crew everything he had.
Some years ago, Dolras would have censured the young officer even so, but not now. Not yet, he told
himself. He had been in space for too many decades; he preferred to save his energies for times that truly
required them. Whatever phenomena his ship had encountered, it was clearly outside even the
computer's knowledge.
Dolras steadied himselfi "This thing is playing a
4 5 game with us. I want to know more about it. Prepare a sensor probe for launch. We will investigate
this energy field up close and find out why it insists on following us." "At once!" Kotren said.
"The probe data may make it possible for you to determine the cloud's purpose," Dolras continued.
If it has one, he thought. But he suspected it did, and he was intent on determining what that purpose
was.
"The probe is ready," Kotren announced a moment later.
Dolras looked to the main viewer. "Launch!" "Probe launched," Kotren said.
"On screen," Dolras said. The low-pitched ping of the departing probe resounded through the ship, and
he watched the main viewer as the tiny machine propelled itself across the narrow gulf between the
Toknor and its unwelcome shadow.
"We're receiving specific telemetry and sensor data," Kotren began.
Dolras watched the probe vanish into the energy field, almost as if it had been absorbed.
"The field is chiefly composed of positively charged plasma particles," Kotren continued. Then he fell
silent.
"Continue!" Dolras demanded. He had to know what was happening.
"Sir, we have lost contact with the probe," Kotren said. "I am attempting to reestablish--" "Then what is
that?" Dolras snapped, leaping to his feet. He jabbed his finger at the screen as the proberathe same
probe they had just launched-- exited the thin, cloudy anomaly and arced back toward the Toknor. He
took a step toward the screen.
"I see it, Captain," Kotren replied, glancing frantically from the screen to his consoles and back.
"But we are receiving no telemetry. The probe no longer registers on our sensors." Dolras narrowed his
eyes. It did not register? How could that be? He could see it. "Turn it around and send it back," he said
evenly, sitting again.
Kotren attempted to comply, then turned back to his captain. "We still have no control over the probe."
"Thrann!" Dolras shouted. "Regain control of the probe. If that is not possible, put a tractor beam on it!"
Dolras watched Thrann tap at his controls, then shake his head. He worked again, and Dolras watched
the screen as the pale orange light of the ship's tractor beam reached out and engulfed the probe... and
the probe passed through it.
"I cannot explain it," Thrann said, his voice tense.
"The beam is having no effect. It is as if there is no probe there to lock on to." "Then destroy the probe,"
Dolras said. He nodded to himself. That would certainly solve the problem. "Target disrupters."
"Powering disrupters. Target acquired," Thrann said.
6 7 "Fire!" Dolras saw the beam strike out at the probe--and pass straight through it with no apparent
affect.
As he noted the probe's course, Dolras needed no instruments to tell him what would happen next.
"Shields up," he ordered. "Prepare for impact!" He braced himself as the probe arrived at the Toknor,
but instead of the expected impact and explosion, the probe passed through the shields with only a flicker
of color, then continued into the ship itself. No contact was felt. "Report!" "No impact registered," Thrann
said. "The probe seems to have vanished." Dolras swore under his breath as he stared once more at the
anomaly--this strange curiosity that was well on its way to becoming his most vexing adversary. Still, the
cloud seemed to present no immediate danger of any kind, only an unsettling mystery to be solved. He
frowned. He didn't like mysteries.
"Close to within two hundred thousand kilometers," he told Thrann. "Modify our forward disrupter array
to emit a diffused electrostatic charge, reverse polarity." "That could disrupt the cloud's entire energy
field," Kotren said.
"Or it could send that thing, whatever it is, running for home. Either way there will be sparks enough to
see what it looks like with a light shining on it."
Thrann acknowledged Dolras's comment and went about the task. A moment later he raised his head.
"Ready," he said.
"Watch it closely, Lieutenant," Dolras told Kotren. "This is our only chance to learn something.
Thrann, are we ready to go to warp?" "Yes, Captain." "Activate the disruptor array." Dolras leaned
back, watching the main viewer, as a bright red beam of electrostatic energy hit the cloud. It began to
seethe with movement. Yellows, oranges, and pinks swirled this way and that. Dolras gaped. It was
beautiful, almost mesmerizing.
Seconds later a blinding light burst from the cloud. Dolras shielded his eyes while the computer
compensated for the increased brightness.
"What was that?" he demanded of Kotren.
"Status!" Warning klaxons abruptly sounded. Dolras tried to blink the white-hot spots from his eyes, to
no avail.
"We are being bombarded with an intense widespectrum radiation beam," Kotren replied. "Every system
on the ship is approaching overload status.
Recommend--" "Go to warp, Thrann!" Dolras shouted. "Engage, engage!" "Coming about," Thrann
reported, hastily manipulating the helm controls. "Engaging now." On the screen, the stars spun in a
quarter circle, then sprang back to became long, narrow lines of light that seemed to stream away in all
directions.
Dolras took a deep, calming breath. Perhaps the disruptor array had been a mistake. But at least they
were safe now.
"Captain," Thrann said after a moment, "the energy field is pursuing us, matching speed and course,
continuing to accelerate." Dolras felt a hardness in his stomach. Warp speeds, it seemed, were not an
advantage.
"I have it on aft visual," Kotren said. "The field seems to be changing, taking on a distinct shape." "Put it
on the main screen," Dolras told him.
"Maximum magnification." To his surprise the image that sprang into view was nothing like the cloud. It
had come together into a vague blocky shape, and though it was indistinct, he recognized the lines of a
long hull and warp engines.
"A starship," Thrann said.
"So it would appear," Dolras said. But who were they? What did they want? "Identification?" "None yet,"
Thrann said. "Our sensors cannot pick it up." "Impossible," Dolras scoffed, clenching one fist as the
frustration built within him. "I have never heard of a cloaking device like this, but now that it is down, we
should be getting some readings." "Their technology must be well beyond our own," Thrann said grimly.
"I recommend firing on it, with or without a lock."
10
"First, open hailing frequencies," Dolras said.
"Tell them to identify themselves and break off their pursuit, or we will open fire. Thrann, prepare a
photon torpedo." Both officers did as they were told.
"No response to our hails," Kotren said a minute later.
"Torpedo ready," Thrann said.
Dolras closed one eye and fixed the other on the dark object still following his freighter. He felt a twinge
of earned pleasure. Enough was enough.
"Fire torpedo," he said. "Torpedo fired." "Tactical onscreen," Dolras said, and the desired display filled
the main viewer. He watched the computer's representation of the torpedo as it traversed the distance
between ships. It appeared to strike the target precisely.
"Direct hit," Thrann reported. "No detonation.
No effect." "How is that possible?" Dolras said, coming halfway out of his seat, then lowing himself
heavily back down. He clutched the arms of his command chair.
"The torpedo has vanished," Thrann replied.
"Fire again! Fire at will!" Dolras watched a second torpedo track toward its target as precisely as the
first, followed by yet another. Both quickly vanished, leaving their objective untouched.
"Torpedo detected on course toward us," Thrann announced, and Dolras heard the agitation in his voice.
Despite their training and seasoning, his crew members had little actual combat experience. Still, they
were Klingons: they would perform their duties, and he would do the same.
"Divert as much power as possible to aft shieldsT" he said. "Target incoming torpedo." "Enemy torpedo
closing," Kotren announced.
"Configuration unknown. I am reading it as a high energy plasma burst." "Fire!" Dolras ordered. If they
could detonate the enemy torpedo before it hit their ship, they would be spared the worst of its effects.
Thrann fired the Toknor's fourth torpedo. Dolras tensed as it flew a brief intercept course and met the
incoming torpedo exactly.
"No effect," Thrann said.
Dolras sat back. No such thing was possible, and yet.
"Brace for impact," he said.
As the words left the captain's mouth, the Toknor heaved suddenly forward, then shook with a violence
even he was not prepared for. The aft screen went instantly white with brightness from the explosion.
Around him, power relays overloaded. The bridge went dark, lit only by flashes and sparks from
instrument panels as numerous systems shorted out.
Dolras held on to his chair, teeth bared, growling deep in his throat, finding no words to express his fury.
Smoke filled his nose and throat. He watched his Ops officer scramble to put out a fire that had started
near the science station. Blood and burnmarks streaked the side of his face.
Dolras forced his growl to become a speaking voice. "Status!" "The impact of the plasma burst nearly
collapsed the aft shields," Thrann reported. "I am attempting to compensate." Dolras rose and made his
way across the bridge to Thrann's station. The Toknor was already at warp six-point-three, the fastest
speed anyone could expect from such a ship. He watched the readout change: warp six-point-four. His
mission was to return with the information and samples he had spent so many months gathering--not a
glorious mission, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless.
He did not intend to fail.
"Continue on course for the wormhole," Dolras said. He tapped at the console's intercom control.
"Engineering, I want everything you can give me, do you hear? Warp seven would be a good start!"
"Yes, sir!" came his chief engineer's resounding reply.
Good, Dolras thought. Someone knew how to respond to an emergency.
"When we reach the Alpha Quadrant, we can arrange to rendezvous with a Klingon attack force," Dolras
told Thrann privately. "Together we will know victory, and we will finally learn who is behind this."
Thrann nodded.
Dolras reached out and tapped the main controls, removing the tactical display from the main screen and
restoring the external forward view. Then he stood back, staring at the image in silence.
"Captain?" Thrann asked, looking up, watching his captain, "what are you looking for?" Dolras held
steady for a moment, then he raised one hand and placed it firmly on his first otficer's shoulder. "Stars,"
he replied. "I wanted to see the stars."
$
CHAPTER 2
"A LITTLE MORE synthale," said Quark, DS9's Ferengi bar owner, as he hovered over Rom's
shoulder.
"Don't worry, brother, I followed your instructions exactly," Rom replied, sounding annoyed but patient,
at least so far, as he finished mixing the batch of cloudy green punch.
Someone has to worry, Quark thought with a mental sigh. Rom had been given a week off from his
regular maintenance duties on the space station and had agreed to help out at the bar for those few days,
just like old times. Already, though, Quark had begun to regret the arrangement; there was nothing worse
than an employee who wasn't afraid of being fired.
"It's not that I think the Aulep are terribly picky," Quark explained, getting back to the subject at hand.
"In fact, they don't strike me as a very discriminating bunch at all. But I want everything to go right.
This is too good a deal to let it get fouled up by some little detail, and I have a reputation for attention to
detail." "You do have a reputation, brother," Rom said evenly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" "I am only agreeing with you." Rom grinned as he handed the pitcher
over.
Quark wrinkled his broad, grooved nose and curled his upper lip back slightly, letting the pointed tips of
his uneven teeth show. "Well, spare me," he said. He waved the punch under his nose, checking the
smell, then shrugged, flipped the lid shut, and set the pitcher under the counter. He turned his back on
Rom, temporarily dismissing him.
Slowly he glanced about the bar, sizing up the crowd. Quark's Place was busy but relatively peaceful for
now, which was just the way he liked it. And as evening approached, it would only get busier. He always
looked forward to that, to long lines at the Dabo tables and the holosuites and the bar itself, but he felt
especially good whenever a lucrative acquisition was at hand--and tomorrow there would be one.
The Aulep came from an unexplored part of the Gamma Quadrant. A rather tall, thin, bony-faced race
with dark orange skin, sparse black hair, and bright green-and-yellow clothes that seemed always to
clash with their bodies, they had been anything but inconspicuous during their short stay on the station a
few weeks ago. But the visitors had privately expressed a pressing desire to begin trading on this side of
the wormhole--and trading, in particular, with Quark.
"We understand you are the one to see," Leth, the chief Aulep representative, had explained after taking
a seat in a quiet comer of the bar, away from the other patrons.
"Then you are an understanding people," Quark had glibly replied, already able to smell the latinurn.
"But is it true?" Leth had pressed, his long, bony face getting longer. When Quark quickly assured him it
was, Leth had hinted at the broad strokes of the Aulep's trading plans and their expectations regarding
Quark. But that was all. Quark had done his best to strike a deal on the spot, but all the Aulep would do
in the end was agree to return in the weeks ahead and talk some more.
"I'm ready right now!" Quark had insisted.
"Good," came the reply. Then Leth had gotten up and wandered out onto the promenade, leaving Quark
to sit and imagine--which, when it came to business dealings, was something he had always been very
good at.
In fact, he'd been thinking about the Aulep's visit until this very day, when the Aulep were scheduled to
return.
"I'll be counting on you to help out while they're here," Quark told Rom, as his brother moved back
down the bar, drawing near. "Do you think you can handle that?" "Of course I can," Rom said resolutely.
"Have I ever failed you, brother?" "Don't start. This is serious. I've already begun brokering a possible
deal. I received a communique from an Aulep representative only a few days ago." Rom seemed clearly
intrigued. Quark let him, enjoying the audience his brother provided, one he had rather missed lately,
though he would never admit it. From all reports Rom was becoming a fine technician, but Quark knew
only too well that Rom didn't share his brother's head for business, something Quark had never quite
gotten used to. But in part because of his lack of understanding, he usually took an interest in Quark's
dealings--the master at work, a glimpse at greatness, that sort of thing.
Which was something Quark understood perfectly.
Rom moved around the end of the bar and took a seat directly across from Quark, then leaned closer.
"So what do they have to offer?" Quark lowered his voice. "Nothing unique. Just natural and synthetic
minerals, commercial merchandise, the usual. It's the quantities I'm interested in. What seems to interest
them is a few clean deals.
It seems they have almost no gold-pressed latinum.
I, of course, do." "They need currency," Rom said.
"Exactly. And I intend to supply it." Quark leaned toward the nearer of his brother's very large rounded
ears and lowered his voice still further. "As I understand it, the Aulep are willing to trade a cargo hold full
of trellium crystals for gold-pressed latinum at an exchange rate of nearly two to one." Rom nearly
gasped, but this quickly turned into a conspiratorial snicker. Quark couldn't help but join in.
"Sounds almost too good to be true," Rom said.
"I know," Quark said.
"But what will you do with the crystals?" "Ahh, well," Quark said, waving one hand at Rom, "that's the
best part. As I was saying, I've already contacted, urn, let's just say a special buyer, who is quite
interested to say the least. Everybody wins, especially me." Rom tipped his head in a congratulatory nod.
Quark and his brother had had their differences, some of which could not be bridged, but Rom had
always given Quark credit where it was due, which was what Quark liked about him. And Quark had
every intention of doing the same where Rom was concerned... sooner or later.
Quark let his gaze wander toward the entryway just as Lieutenant Commander Worf came in. The
Klingon cut a striking figure. His long black hair, pulled back in a ponytail, the stark Klingon forehead
ridges, and the trimmed black beard seemed to complement the red and black of his Starfleet uniform.
Klingons looked more natural in dark leather and metal, Quark thought, though right now he was glad
there weren't any of the "natural" kind around.
19
Khngons had already proven to be more trouble to Quark than they were worth as customers. They
were prone to violence, and it usually cost more to clean up after them than they spent. Definitely not
good for business.
Worf paused to scan the room, then sat down at the far end of the bar. Alone.
"So tell me everything about these Aulep, their customs, th$ir secret weaknesses," Rom prodded,
apparently still intrigued by the depth and breadth of the upcoming deal.
Quark was less than eager to go into greater detail.
"Ah--there really isn't much to tell," he said.
"What about their other trading partners? Have you made contact with any of them?" Quark eyed Rom
cautiously. He was almost too interested, as if he was fishing for trouble. "I don't know any of their other
trading partners," Quark said flatly, letting his irritation show in his voice.
"Not yet, anyway. They're from halfway across the Gamma Quadrant, as I said." "I know that," Rom
said. But he looked suddenly, genuinely concerned as he stared at Quark.
Quark did not enjoy the scrutiny. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"You don't know a thing about them, do you?" It wasn't a question.
"Well, not really," Quark admitted. "But I know what I need to know. More than enough to start dealing
with them, and I'm a very fast learner." "But since these Aulep are not from our part of the galaxy, you
have no idea whether you can trust them or what kinds of trading they are used to.
Suppose they require the ear of your closest relative as part of the deal?" Quark's eyes widened. He
couldn't tell if Rom was joking. "Then I'd say you're lucky you have two ears." "That's not very funny,"
Rom said.
"Well, you're talking nonsense." "What I mean is, there are too many, um..." Rom seemed to be searching
for a word.
"Variables?" Quark suggested. "Yes, exactly." Quark allowed himself an audible sigh. He knew what he
was doing, most of the time; he'd even surprised himself now and again. Rom had apparently lost sight of
that. "Have a little faith in your big brother, Rom. The truth is, I can make any deal work." A commotion
at the other end of the counter called their attention. Worf had gotten up again, and he was clearly
displeased. He stared at the two Ferengi, and it suddenly occurred to Quark that he was simply looking
for a little servicemand that he probably shouldn't be kept waiting.
"Go see to Worf's needs personally," Quark told his brother, waving both hands at him, shooing him
along. "All he ever wants is prune juice anyway." A shout arose from the Dabo table. Quark watched for
a moment, then relaxed when he realized it was just a Tosarian freighter crewman sud-
20 21 denly thrilled about his winnings... which, Quark trusted, would not be too large. But this was the
kind of trouble he reveled in. Big winners tended to turn into big spenders, loud partiers, and holosuite
junkies.
He sat back and breathed in his bar's thickly scented air, full of strange alien smells mixed with the
ever-present aroma of countless spilled drinks.
Yes, with a new deal in the making, it felt good to be alive.
The breath caught in his throat as Odo, the station's shapeshifting security officer, cut between patrons
and headed straight for him.
"Constable!" Quark said, grinning officiously at Odo. "What can I do for you today?" "I'm a little troubled
by some of what I just overheard," Odo said. He sat down and tipped his head to one side.
Quark found his expression difficult to read.
Odo's smoothed-over features and slicked-back hair lacked detail and authenticity, but they amounted to
the closest version of a humanoid Odo had so far been able to accomplish. His appearance was almost
comical, but Quark had learned the hard way that Odo wasn't usually joking.
"Odo, didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't polite to eavesdrop?" "Yes, they did, unless it happens to be part
of your job." "Well, don't let it trouble you another moment.
There isn't anything going on here that should
22 concern you. Just another lovely, busy day at Quark's?' Odo's brow went up. "I think I'll decide for
myself, if you don't mind. Now, tell me all about this deal you're setting up with the Aulep." "Aulep?" Odo
nodded.
"There isn't much to tell." "Tell me anyway." Quark had been in this sort of conversation before. He
seldom won. This time, though, he felt that he was on fairly solid ground. "It's a simple business
transaction--trellium crystals for latinum, which the Aulep can get converted into whatever currency they
might need. I'm doing this station a favor, you know. You should thank me. Captain Sisko has
encouraged me to trade with races from the Gamma Quadrant, especially races outside the Dominion,
and that's exactly what I'm doing." Odo made a face that passed for scorn. "Perhaps," he said, "but I
thought you said you don't know anything about the Aulep--what sort of people they are, who their
enemies are, what their motives are, little things like that." "And I don't have to." Quark grinned. "That's
the beauty of it. Rule of acquisition number--" "You might want to reconsider," Odo said, cutting him off.
"I remember the Aulep's initial visit here a few weeks ago, including my security interview with their
leader. If you'd like, I can look it up for you in my reports. As I recall, they didn't get along very well
here, even though they were only on the station for a few days. Several station occupants filed complaints
against them. You filed one yourself. They tried to cheat at the Dabo tables. You may recall some of this.
Stop me anytime." "Yes, yes," Quark replied, waving at the air between them as if the idea itself hung
there. "A minor... minor misunderstanding, as it turned out. Once I explained the rules to them, they were
fine." "I don't believe you, Quark." "You never do." "And why is that?" Quark's mood soured at Odo's
patronizing grin.
He sat crossing his thumbs, watching his customers.
Worf sipped the drink Rom had just brought him.
Garak, the station's resident Cardassian tailor, came in from the promenade with Dr. Bashir. Quark
thought Garak and Bashir made an odd combination. Garak was one of the savviest beings Quark had
ever encountered, with a past in Cardassian intelligence that would not bear close examination, while
Julian Bashir was a bright but somewhat less initiated human with a past marked largely by academic
摘要：

StarTrek-DS9-021-TrialByErrorCHAPTER1"ON-SCREEN!"CAPTAINDOLRASsnapped,loweringhimselfintothecommandchair.Heleanedforwardandstaredatthemainviewscreen.Whatwasthatstrangedarkcloud?TheotherKlingonsaroundhimfellsilent.Noneofthegruffbanterthatnormallybrokethemonotonyofspacetravelnow,Dolrasthought,allowing...

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