Star Trek Deep Space 9 11 Devil In The Sky

VIP免费

2024-12-19 0 0 378.34KB 127 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

Star Trek - DS9 - 011 - Devil In The Sky

CHAPTER 1

Station Log, Commander Benjamin Sisko, Stardate 46384.1: In hopes of reviving the Bajoran mining

industry, left devastated after the Cardassian Occupation, the Feder- ation has arranged, in cooperation

with private Bajoran investors, to transport a family of Hortas to Bajor. In theory, the Hortas will use

their natural tunneling abilities to find pockets of minerals and ore which the Cardassians either missed or

deemed too difficult to extract.

We are currently awaiting the arrival of the Federa- tion cruiser Puyallup, en route from Janus VI. I have

dispatched a team of officers to welcome the Hortas to Deep Space Nine....

THE AIRLOCK DOOR rolled out of the way like a gear in some enormous clockwork mechanism. In

contrast to the grim gray walls of the docking ring, the circular door was the dull red color of drying

human blood.

Damn Cardassian architecture, Major Kira Nerys thought as she walked briskly through the airlock

toward Docking Port g; even after so much time on the station, I sti# haven't grown accustomed to the

ugliness of it all. Cardassian aesthetics are on a par with their ethics, she mused; that is, they don't exist.

Kira suspected that Commander Sisko would not approve of such sentiments, at least in public. His

Federation was annoyingly reluctant to criticize the cultures of even their most loathsome enemies. Hell,

they had even made peace with the Klingons. Some- times she thought it was a miracle that the entire

Federation hadn't been conquered centuries ago. But then, Kira wasn't sure she believed in miracles any-

more.

Another airlock door, its gearlike teeth crimson as a Bajoran sea-tiger, opened before her and the

Bajoran major found herself in a small waiting area outside the docking port. A triangular display, lit in

shades of red and blue, announced the arrivals and departures of various spacecraft. An outdated map of

the station, mounted on the wall under a sheet of transparent aluminum, waited to mislead newcomers to

DS9. Two of her fellow officers, Lieutenant Jadzia Dax and Dr.

Julian Bashir, glanced toward her as she approached them. Although a stark metal bench, of Cardassian

design, was bolted to both the floor and the adjoining wall, the pair of officers remained standing. Kira

didn't blame them; uncomfortable and uninviting, the bench resembled a torture device better suited to a

dungeon than a space station.

Dax gave Kira a friendly smile and nod, while Bashir kept on babbling at the young woman, his hands

waving enthusiastically as he spoke. As usual, Kira noted, Bashir was hovering around Dax's lithe,

attractive form just like a Ferengi would. Why Dax had never told Bashir just where he could beam

himself Kira had never understood.

"As a specialist in multispecies medicine," the doctor was saying, "naturally I find the Hortas fasci- nating.

They were the first silicon-based life-form humanity ever encountered. Not only that, they also secrete a

powerfully corrosive acid that allows them to move through solid rock the same way humanoids move

through air. They actually digest raw iron and other minerals!" What was Bashir most enthralled with,

Kira won- dered: Dax's bright blue eyes and gracefully spotted neck--or the sound of his own voice?

Please, Jadzia, Kira thought silently. Don't encourage him.

"Really, Julian?" Dax said indulgently. "That's very interesting." Oh, no. Kira sighed and shook her head.

There was no shutting him up now. Sure enough, Bashir leaned against the bulkhead wall, in what he

doubtless con- sidered a suave and dashing manner, and resumed his lecture. A Starfleet medical pouch,

strapped over his shoulder, dangled next to his side. "Then, of course," he said casually, his eyes never

once leaving Dax's attentive face, "there's the Horta's very unusual re- productive cycle.... " Oh, give me

a break, Kira fumed. Typically, howev- er, Dax stood by cahnly, with her hands clasped loosely behind

her back. Although Dax had a fun- loving side that Kira had learned never to underesti- mate, the Trill

science officer often exuded a sense of effortless serenity that was almost spiritual. Not for the first time,

Kira was secretly envious. Is Dax what Bajoran women were like, she wondered, before dec- ades of

Cardassian oppression transformed us into refugees and revolutionaries? CouM I have ever known that

kind of peace? Kira fingered the silver earring dangling from her right ear. The Bajorans had been a

deeply religious people once. Kira liked to think she still was, and yet her spirit was often troubled.

She paced impatiently back and forth across the waiting area. Her dark red boots rapped against the

bare, uncarpeted floor. According to the display, the Puyallup was now a few minutes late. What the hell

could be taking them so long? She had more impor- tant things to do than watch another of Bashir's futile

attempts to flirt with Dax.

"I've heard," Dax said to Bashir, "that the Hortas only breed once every fifty thousand years." Kira

groaned quietly and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she suspected that Dax actually enjoyed playing these

games with Bashir. Kira wouldn't put it past her; after all, the Trill genuinely enjoyed socializing with

Ferengi.

"That's a common misconception," the doctor ex- plained. "It's true that every five hundred centuries the

entire species dies out, except for one Horta who cares for the thousands of eggs left behind, from which,

eventually, a brand-new race of Hortas is born.

But, prior to these epochal near-extinctions, there are interim generations of Hortas who reprOduce

regu- larly." Frankly, Kira didn't care whether each individual Horta emerged independently from some

primordial lava flow, just so they performed as advertised, and found new treasures in Bajor's pillaged

mines. She almost said as much, but Jadzia, damn her, gave Bashir another too-perfect smile. "How

intriguing, Julian. From a medical perspective, are there any advantages to this cycle?" "That's a very

perceptive question, Jadzia!" Bashir gushed. Kira prayed to all the Prophets that the Federation cruiser

would arrive soon. She tapped her foot impatiently against the floor, wishing it were Bashir's larynx

instead. "Of course, the study of Horta biology is less than a hundred years old, but our best theory is

that the cycle is a form of population control. Hortas are basically ageless, indestructible, and have no

natural predators. Thus, every fifty millennia, one generation of Hortas disappears to make room for their

descendants while the primary Mother Horta, selected through a process we still don't entirely

understand, provides a form of cultural continuity." The young doctor leaned toward Dax, caught up by

the joys of science, or hormones, or some combination thereof. "Think of it! To be the adopted mother

to an entire new generation of beings. Imagine what the sense of responsibility..." "Well," Kira interrupted

him, hoping to forestall another dissertation. "I look forward to meeting the Hortas." And soon, she

prayed. Exhausted already by Bashir's unending chatter, she found herself seriously contemplating the

Cardassian-built bench, unpadded metal slats and all.

"You might want to brace yourself, Major," Bashir said. Although addressing Kira, he edged even nearer

to Dax. His dark eyes glowing, clearly convinced that the lovely Trill was hanging on his every word, he

lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just between the three of us, a Horta is not the most

attractive of beings. In fact," he said, winking at Dax and working very hard at being casually, shockingly,

endearingly irreverent, "a fully grown Horta resem- bles nothing as much as an oversized slug made out of

molten rock!" Abruptly, the smile disappeared from Dax's lips.

The station's science officer remained poised and at ease, but her voice as she spoke was markedly

colder than before. "Some of my closest acquaintances look like slugs, Doctor, as you may recall." She

turned her back on Bashir and gracefully walked away, a three- hundred-year-old symbiont sharing a

fresh new humanoid body.

The crestfallen look that came over Bashir's face, as he suddenly realized his faux pas, was absolutely

priceless, at least as far was Kira was concerned. Gone was the confident lecturer and ladies' man of

mere moments ago. "Jadzia," he stammered breathlessly, "I didn't mean... that is, I certainly never

intended to... you know I have nothing but the highest re- spect for you and... well, if I can explain... !"

From the other side of the room, and across as much empty space as possible, Dax glanced back at him

over her shoulder. "By the way, Julian, I was excavating planetary cores alongside dozens of Hortas

while you were still learning to crawl." In other words, you cocky young fool, Kira thought, she's been

humoring you all along. This was getting more entertaining by the moment; she'd have to remember to tell

Odo about it later. For the moment, Dax seemed to have rendered Bashir speechless. It wouldn't last, of

course, but Kira intended to enjoy the spectacle while she could.

A short chime from her comm badge broke the momentary silence. Damn, Kira thought, just as Bashir

was digging his own grave, with Dax maybe ready to throw in a few handfuls of dirt. The doctor had

been saved, quite literally, by the bell. She patted the badge on her left collar. "Kira here." Commander

Sisko's deep voice came over the comm. "We may have a problem, Major. Our sensors detect another

ship on an intercept course with the Puyallup. The new ship's not responding to our hails, and it appears

to have come from Cardassian space." Cardassian! Kira snapped into combat mode, all thought of

Bashir's infatuations and embarrassments instantly forgotten. Her fists clenched automatically.

Glancing at the map on the wall, mentally adjusting for its various inaccuracies, she swiftly deduced the

location of the nearest runabout. "On my way," she told Sisko. "I'm taking Dax and Bashir on the new

runabout, what's it called, the Amazon." "Understood," Sisko replied. "Be careful." Kira jerked her head

toward the exit and took off at a steady run. She squeezed impatiently past the slowly rolling door as

soon as a thin crescent of empty space opened up. Wordlessly, the two Starfleet officers fol- lowed

quickly behind her. Bashir clutched his medical pouch as he ran after Dax and Kira. The Amazon waited

in a service bay in the habitat ring, on the other side of the closest crossover bridge. Take the turbolift,

Kira thought; that wouM be faster than on foot. In her mind, she was already at the helm of the runabout,

racing away from the station, ready to engage the enemy once more.

She had no problems with slugs--Horta, Trill, or Terran. Cardassians, on the other hand, were the

closest thing to sentient slime she knew.

Phasers fired in her imagination, blasting the slime out of existence. She was ready. She was willing.

If only she could get there in time.

Titan's large, lumpish body made a grinding sound as she tunneled toward the bridge of the Puyallup. The

latter half of the small cruiser had been packed with lightweight synthetic concrete, the better to simulate

the Horta's usually solid environment, but Ttan sensed empty air only inches away. She burned through a

narrow partition of concrete and slid down the corridor toward the bridge. Behind her, traces of vapor

rose from the freshly created tunnel. As usual, the Nothingness her Federation allies called "an at-

mosphere" tickled the nerves of her outer carapace and made her feel uncomfortably exposed. Prime

Mother, she entreated silently, let the worldstuff of Bajor be firm and hard.

The doorway opened before her and she entered the bridge. A metallic semicircle large enough to

accom- modate a three-person crew, the chamber reeked to Ttan of tritanium and duranium. Good, solid

con- struction, if a bit too airily spacious for her tastes.

Captain Dawson rose from the command seat and greeted Ttan as the Horta rustled forward, her lower

fringes brushing the cool, metallic floor. Dawson was a tall, stocky Terran whose jawline was decorated

with a reddish fringe of its own. Ttan believed it was a male, but wasn't quite sure. Humanoids were such

peculiar entities: all carbon softness and pointy ap- pendages. If it weren't for their calcium framework,

and a smattering of iron and other minerals, they'd bear no resemblance to life as she knew it.

"Prospector Ttan," it (he?) greeted her enthusiasti- cally. "Thank you for joining us. We should be arriving

at Deep Space Nine shortly." "Fine Faring to you, Captain." The Federation translator affixed to Ttan's

husk gave her a melodious voice with a slight East Indian accent. "And Smooth Voyaging to you as well,

Navigator Shirar." Ttan sensed the presence of the Vulcan navigator before Shirar stepped away from

her console and into view. The currents of copper flowing through the navigator were unmistakable.

"Greetings, Prospector," Shirar said. Dark strands of protein fibers, neatly aligned in descending parallel

rows, framed the Vulcan's pale features. The points of her auditory organs--"ears," Ttan recalled--were

sharp as stalagmites, Previous conversations had made it clear to Ttan that Shirar was female. "I trust

your offspring are well." "Yes, very." Ttan thought proudly of the twenty eggs tucked safely away in a

small vault she had carved herself out of the concrete Starfleet had provided.

"And many thanks once more for the extra shielding you devised for my pilgrim infants." Shirar nodded

her chin slightly. "Given the impor- tance and relative fragility of your eggs, it was only logical to preserve

them in a stasis field independent of regular ship systems." "Not, I hasten to add," Captain Dawson said,

"that we anticipate any danger to your children. Still, it always pays to be careful, especially where little

ones are concerned. I have three of my own, you know." Three eggs? Ttan briefly reconsidered

Dawson's gender. Then the captain called her attention to the large viewscreen at the opposite end of the

bridge. The visual display, which occupied nearly the entire for- ward wall, revealed a vast and terrifying

blackness in which distant stars seemed to race past them like sparks thrown off by struck flints.

The Emptiness Beyond the Emptiness. Ttan had experienced space before, but still that vast and endless

void, so different from the subterranean home of her people, both thrilled and intimidated her. It was so

open. How could any Horta survive without the reassuring, aU-surrounding press of rock about her, and

where, she wondered, had she found the courage to cross this immense absence in order to carve new

tunnels on a distant world? Ttan felt a surge of pride and anticipation. What an opportunity to burn her

mark into the Stone of Memory. And maybe, just maybe, centuries hence, she or one of her children

might become the Prime Mother of the next Renewal?

Ttan would never be so immodest as to admit such an ambition to any other living being, but if she truly

strived and succeeded at the great task before her.

well, she could always dream, couldn't she?

"Approaching DS9," an eager young voice an- nounced. A Benzite, Ttan realized, recognizing the distinct

odor of chlorine from the artificial breathing apparatus affixed under the ensign's chin. Although he was

basically humanoid in shape, and clad in a standard blue Starfleet uniform, the Benzite's face and hands

were protected by a pale blue chitinous covering with glistening silver undertones. His ears, located

higher on his skull than either Dawson's or Shirar's, were also deeply recessed and less ornate than other

humanoids'. Ttan was proud that she could identify them at all. With his smooth, hairless shell, the Benzite

somehow seemed more convincingly alive than the other humanoids on the Puyallup, although of course

Ttan was far too tactful to say so.

"Go to impulse, Ensign," Dawson instructed.

"Yes, sir!" the Benzite responded, expelling a gust of carbon trichloride. Seconds later, the ever-present

dilithium aftertaste Ttan had learned to associate with warp travel dissipated from the bridge. The

streaking stars before her slowed in their fiery trajec- tories past the ship. They were almost there, she

thought in wonder. Bajor: her new home and her children's future birthplace.

The fibrous mineral filaments around her base rustled with excitement as she edged nearer the

viewscreen. Captain Dawson stepped beside her. He stroked the fringe under his own chin.

"Let me show you one of the more interesting local sights," he said cheerfully. "Ensign, lateral view,

medium magnification." "Yes, sir," the young Benzite responded from his post. Instantly, the image on the

viewer shifted, revealing what appeared to be a moon or planetoid much closer to the ship than the

faraway stars. The moon was large and irregularly shaped, marked by a chaotic pattern of gray-brown

peaks and shadowy craters, divided by intersecting veins of some rough, reddish material. Unlike most

other moons, this ob- ject could not be described as a globe; unknown forces had deformed its mass,

flattening its eastern hemi- sphere and causing the other half to stretch and protrude along random stress

lines, like a human skull that has been smashed against a hard surface, with its shell distorted but barely

holding together, and bits of soft tissue jutting out through the cracks. The moon's coarse and mottled

exterior suggested eons of violent volcanic activity, resulting in a cracked, scarred, and pitted terrain that

had obviously never known the patient polishing of wind or water. In many ways, Ttan noted, the huge

floating rock bore a distinct resemblance to a Horta. She wondered if that was why Dawson had invited

her to the bridge.

If the captain had observed the similarity, he did not comment on it. "What you're looking at," he said, "is

the most distant of Bajor's moons. They call it The Prodigal, because it has an unusually wide and ellipti-

cal orbit which brings it within sight of Bajor only once every five years. More importantly, from our point

of view, its orbit should bring it near Deep Space Nine in a couple of days. If you're still on the station

then, the view should be spectacular. Something about the moon's composition causes it to glow

whenever it comes into close proximity with what we now know to be the entrance to the wormhole.

Tourists and sightseers from all over the Federation are flocking to DS9 to witness firsthand 'The Illumi-

nation of The Prodigal.'" "Previously," Shirar noted, "the station was not located so close to the moon's

path, nor were the Cardassians inclined to accommodate outside observ- ers during the Occupation. A

better opportunity to view the spectacle has not been available for genera- tions." A tempting prospect,

Ttan thought, but she sus- pected that she would prefer to travel on to Bajor itself as soon as possible.

Indeed, her stop at the station seemed more of a Federation formality than anything else. As DS9 was

beyond transporter range of the planer's surface, a Bajoran shuttle had been hired to convey her eggs

and herself on the final leg of their long journey. Soon, she recalled eagerly, my children and I will burrow

into the comforting denseness of a brand-new world. She wondered what Bajor would taste like.

Suddenly, the Benzite ensign sat up straight in his seat. A puff of chlorine escaped his breathing tube.

"Captain! Unidentified vessel dead ahead and ap- proaching fast." His hands moved briskly over the face

of his console. Ttan heard his chitinous fingers click lightly against the controls. "They're powering up their

phaser banks." "Shields up!" Dawson ordered. "Red Alert!" He hurriedly regained his seat at the center

of the bridge.

Shirar resumed her post as well, to the left of the Benzite's station. "Brace yourself, Ttan," the captain

said.

Alarms blared liked screaming babies. Ttan fought her instinctual response to tunnel to safety; she would

only destroy the delicate circuitry below the bridge.

Instead, she wedged herself into the space beneath an unmanned computer station and the floor. Despite

her best intentions, a trickle of acid dripped from her hide, scarring the surface of the floor. My eggs, she

thought desperately. My children!

Dawson fired off commands to his crew. "Naviga- tor, take over piloting. Ensign, hostile onscreen." The

Benzite brought their attacker onto the moni- tor. The onrushing ship had a hammerhead prow that

promised no peaceful intentions. The craft's muted, reddish brown exterior made it difficult to spot

against the darkness of space--until a flash of phaser fire lit up the screen.

The first blast struck like an earthquake. The Puyallup shook around her; she could feel the vibra- tions

as, even shielded, the ship's hull shuddered under the blast's impact.

"Shields down forty-three percent, Captain." Shirar announced from her post. "Forty-three point seven

seven seven nine, to be precise." "Round numbers will suffice," Dawson said dryly, his voice admirably

cool. Beneath the crimson facial filaments, however, his hide had gone pale. Ttan sensed the iron coursing

through his veins. "Weapons systems?" he asked.

"Inoperative," Shirar replied. "Executing evasive maneuvers." Unlike Dawson, Ttan noted, the Vul- can's

internal fluids were not moving any faster than before the attack.

"Dammit," the captain swore, as the Puyallup took a sharp turn away from their attacker. "We're hope-

lessly outgunned." His fist pounded the armrest of his chair. "This was supposed to be a passenger run,

nothing more!" Another bolt struck the Federation cruiser, rocking the floor from side to side. The

illumination in the bridge flickered. A shower of green sparks exploded from the console in front of the

young Benzite. He fell from his seat and lay twitching only a few yards away from Ttan. The thin blue

shell covering his flesh was splintered in several places. A thick orange liquid leaked through the crevices.

Mercury mixed with platinum, Ttan realized. She regretted that she had never learned the ensign's name.

"Shields down one hundred percent," Shirar warned. Her eyes did not leave her console display.

"Warp engines off-line." "Open hailing frequencies," Dawson ordered, star- ing in horror at the fallen

Benzite. "Find out what they want." "No response, Captain," the Vulcan said.

The main viewer remained locked on the hammer- head ship. Its prow grew larger and nearer by the

second, until it seemed to fill the screen. "Send an SOS to Deep Space Nine," Dawson said. "Tell them

we need assistance... now!" Crammed into her hiding place, Ttan felt an unusu- al sensation suffuse her

entire being, as though she were instantly dissolving into vapor or lesS. White static, loud and crackling,

seemed to come between her and the rest of the bridge. Still, just before the Puyatlup faded completely

away, she heard Shirar say, "They're activating their transporter.... " My children, my children, Ttan's soul

cried out as she was snatched by the Void.

"The unidentified vessel has fired upon the Puyallup," Dax announced from the conn station aboard the

runabout. Seated beside her, Kira piloted the Amazon, pushing the ship as fast as it would go on impulse

power, just short of warp speed. Behind Dax and Kira, Dr. Bashir gripped the armrests of his seat with

white knuckles as the runabout banked sharply to the right.

"Unidentified vessel, my foot," Kira snarled. She knew a Cardassian sneak attack when she saw one.

She glanced down at her monitors; they were only seconds away from the battle. A small, tight smile

lifted the comers of her lips. She imagined strangling the Cardassian attackers with their own ropy neck

tendons. It wasn't enough that they had repeatedly robbed and pillaged this system during their long

occupation... no, they had to keep coming back for the scraps as well!

Not this time, she vowed, as they came within sight of the conflict. In the distance, she saw the scarred

and blackened hull of the small FederatiOn cruiser, drift- ing in space. The command saucer was still

intact, she noted with relief, but both warp nacelles bore the marks of direct phaser strikes; the cruiser

wasn't going anywhere on its power. Beyond the Puyallup, her attacker, of recognizably Cardassian

design, hovered a little short of striking distance. Not a full-size Galor- class warship, Kira noted with

relief, and only slightly larger than the runabout itself. She increased the magnification on the viewer. The

Cardassian ship was curiously unadorned, bearing no military insignia or markings. A rogue pirate, she

speculated, or some sort of covert mission? Knowing the Cardassians, she suspected the latter.

"I'm still detecting life signs on the Puyallup, "Dax informed her. Despite the runabout's wild flight, every

strand of Jadzia's long brown hair remained tucked neatly in place. How does she manage that, Kira

wondered, despite herself. "Humanoid, that is.

I'd have to recalibrate for Hortas." Suddenly, Dax's violet eyes grew wide. "Major, the attackers beamed

something away from the Puyallup." Thieves/ Kira thought, shifting course slightly to bring the runabout

above and away from the besieged cruiser. The last thing she wanted was to put the Puyallup in a cross

fire. The bumpy flight smoothed out quickly as she slowed to combat speed. "Lieuten- ant Dax, activate

shields and weapons systems. Pre- pare to fire on command." Even as she spoke, a ray of crimson

energy leaped from the prow of the Cardassian ship to strike the battered transport. For a second, Kira's

heart stopped as she feared she was too late, that the Federation ship would fly apart, killing everyone

aboard, an instant before she could try to defend them. Those bastards, she cursed the Cardassians;

clearly, they intended to leave no witnesses behind. If they've destroyed the Hortas, she thought angrily,

I'll see them reduced to interstellar ash.

Plasma flames, green and incandescent, rippled across the surface of the Puyallup, and the entire ship

turned cartwheels in space, but the cruiser held to- gether, if only for a few moments more. Kira breathed

a sigh of relief. The Prophets had given her another chance.

To hell with warning shots. "Microtorpedo. Now!" she ordered. Dax's fingers flew across her control

pad.

Kira watched with grim satisfaction as the torpedo darted straight for the enemy's bridge. A photon blast

exploded against the Cardassian's shields, rocking the raider's ship. "The other torpedo. Now." That was

the end of her torpedoes, but Kira wasn't going to let up now. The Puyallup probably wouldn't survive

another blast, so she didn't want to give the Cardassians a moment's rest. Besides, she still had her

phasers.

The second torpedo detonated against the under- side of the Cardassian vessel. Their shields held once

more, but the force of the explosion caused the enemy ship to lurch and dip momentarily, like a fixed

buoy riding out a sudden wave. And was that the Cardassians' emergency lighting blinking off, then on?

Kira couldn't tell for sure, but she hoped as much.

Seconds later, the ship lifted away from the Puyallup.

Was it going to take the battle to the Amazon? Kira held her breath. "Enemy's shields at eight-five per-

cent," Dax said calmly. "Energizing our phaser banks." Then, to Kira's surprise and disappointment, the

Cardassian raider rotated horizontally until the rear of the ship faced the runabout. Warp engines flashed

like prismatic lightning before her eyes and the Cardassians took off in retreat. "Heading?" she asked Dax

quickly.

"The Cardassian border. Away from DS9." Everything in Kira's blood urged her to pursue the

Cardassian ship, to hunt them down and make them pay for this unforgivable attack, to recover what

they had stolen from the Federation and Bajor. She con- templated the wounded cruiser, its once

gleaming hull now burned and twisted. The Puyallup floated out of control, at an angle almost 360

degrees away from its original orientation; she hoped, for the survivors' sake, that the artificial gravity had

not been shorted out by the Cardassians' blasts so that everyone would stay rightside-up aboard the ship,

regardless of its shifting position in space. But were there any survi- vors? Even as she wondered, the

Cardassians were getting farther and farther away.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. Then, more firmly: "Hail the Puyallup. Find out if they require

medical assistance." She swiveled her seat around to address Bashir. The young physician met her gaze

steadily. "Get ready, Doctor. I think you're going to be busy." Kira turned toward Dax. "Lock a tractor

beam on the cruiser. We'll tow it back to DS9 later; for now, hold it in place." Dax had already

established a corem link with the Puyallup's captain. Kira was relieved to hear that, apparently, someone

was still alive over there. Still, she stared with cold fury toward the sector into which the Cardassians had

warped away. This isn't over yet, she promised herself. Nobody invades the Bajoran system and escapes

with impunity, not while I'm alive.

Especially not the Cardassians.

"Major?" Dax interrupted Kira's vengeful musings.

"Bad news. The Mother Horta was beamed off the Puyallup. She's been kidnapped."

CHAPTER 2

SISKO'S OFFICE had once belonged to Gul Dukat, the former Cardassian commander of Deep Space

Nine, who obviously hadn't been interested in making his visitors comfortable. Seated behind an imposing

black desk, his head and shoulders framed by a cat's-eye-shaped window that looked out on the sur-

rounding stars, Benjamin Sisko observed his staff standing at attention before him. Not for the first time,

he reminded himself to get some more chairs.

Dr. Bashir, flanked by Dax and Kira, continued to debrief the commander on the crisis involving the

Puyallup. "To our knowledge, there are no casualties so far. Ensign Muluck was severely injured, but his

situation seems to have stabilized. Nurse Kabo is looking after him now; I've given her detailed instruc-

tions on the care and treatment of Benzites." Sisko noted orange stains on the sleeves of Bashir's uniform:

Muluck's blood? He wondered how much emergency, hands-on care the Benzite had required, and if

Muluck would still be alive if not for the young doctor's efforts. "Captain Dawson and Lieutenant Shirar

received only concussions and minor fractures.

They've been released from the infirmary." Bashir hesitated before continuing. "Captain Dawson wants to

take part in any rescue mission, but, as medical officer, I don't think that's a good idea." Sisko agreed.

While he sympathized with Dawson's desire to fulfill his responsibilities toward Ttan, nei- ther he nor

Lieutenant Shirar sounded like they were in any shape to take on the raiders. Better they should

supervise repairs on the Puyallup, which, no doubt, had other vital missions scheduled.

"What about the Horta eggs?" Sisko asked. As a father himself, he felt a pang at the thought of the

unborn Hortas being destroyed or orphaned.

"All twenty eggs are unbroken and appear to be unharmed," Bashir said. "I must admit, though, that

prenatal examination of Hortas is something new for me. Horta eggs look like smooth silicon nodules;

they cantoand have--been mistaken for lifeless mineral deposits." Those nodules are going to hatch,

Sisko thought.

What then? Twenty newborn Hortas separated from their mother? That couM be a problem. Still, there

were more pressing issues to deal with now, like the fate of the Mother Horta.... He made a mental note

to have Chief O'Brien secure the eggs in an unused cargo bay.

On second thought, he corrected himself, these eggs are guests, not freight. Better make that an empty

suite on the habitat ring.

Dax stepped forward, a data padd in her right hand.

"The eggs were protected by a contained stasis field, Benjamin. I suspect that this field shielded the eggs

from the brunt of the attack, and may have prevented the raiders from beaming away the eggs as well."

"Raiders?" Kira said. "Cardassians, you mean." Placing her palms firmly on the surface of Sisko's desk,

she leaned toward him. He recognized the fiery look in her eyes; Kira was out for blood. "Command- er,

this is a shameless Cardassian incursion against Bajor and the Federation. We have to retaliate." Sisko

spoke slowly, choosing his words with care.

"I've spoken with Gul Dukat. He insists that the Cardassian military government knows nothing about the

attack on the Puyallup--or the present where- abouts of the abducted Horta." Kira snorted, and Sisko

waved a hand to head off her objections. "Yes, yes, I know. I don't believe it either. Without proof,

however, I can hardly launch a full-scale armada against the Cardassians, even if I had the ships, which I

don't." "But we have to do something!" Kira insisted.

"And we will, Major," Sisko said firmly. "The Horta, Ttan, was under Starfleet protection. A rescue

mission is our top priority, but first we have to figure out where she's been taken." He rested his chin on

his clasped hands. "So, assuming the Cardassians are responsible, why would they kidnap Ttan?" "To

sabotage the Bajoran economy?" Bashir specu- lated.

"Unlikely," Dax said. She consulted her padd. "The Horta mining project was an experimental affair,

confined to one site on the southern continent. Al- though promising in theory, it wasn't yet a proven

success, let alone essential to the Bajoran recovery." Kira pulled back from Sisko's desk, but her entire

body still shook with indignation. "Since when did Cardassians need a reason to rob and kill?" "Point

taken," Sisko said diplomatically. "Still, it's clear that this attack had a purpose, and that purpose was

specifically to snatch Ttan. So, again, why does someone steal a Horta?" "Mining," Dax said. "That must

be it. The Hortas are the greatest natural miners in the known galaxy.

The human-Horta mining alliance on Janus VI is the most productive--and profitable--source of raw ore

and rare elements in the entire Federation." Yes, Sisko thought. That made sense. Slave labor and greed;

even Kira had to agree that those were plausible motives for a Cardassian operation. "What we're

looking for then is a Cardassian mining installa- tion. That's where we'll find Ttan." Sisko rose from his

chair, his decision made. "Dax, check the station's computer. Find out the coordinates of the five nearest

Cardassian mining operations, in order of proximity to DS9. Kira, rearm the Amazon and assemble a

security team." Sisko paused for a second before continuing. "Take Wilkens, Muckerheide, Parks,

Jonsson, and Aponte." He saw Kira's eyes widen as he named his choices, all Starfleet personnel, but

she said nothing, for now, and he chose to ignore her expres- sion.

Later, he thought. He was not fool enough to think that the confrontation had been permanently post-

poned. "The goal here is to rescue Ttan and, hopeful- ly, return her unharmed. Fast in and fast out."

"Commander," Bashir began. "Request permission to accompany the rescue party. Ttan may already be

injured, and I've been reading up on Horta first aid." "What about Ensign Muluck?" Sisko asked. He

glanced again at the bloodstains on Bashir's wrists.

"Nurse Kabo can care for him now. My presence is not required." "I think I should go along too,

Benjamin," Dax added. "I've probably had more experience with Hortas than anyone else on the station.

In fact, one of my granddaughters lives on Janus VI." Sisko nodded. He wondered briefly whether Dax

was that woman's grandmother or grandfather.

"Kira," he said, "Bashir and Dax are with your team.

Prepare to depart within the hour." He looked them over. "Be careful, all of you. That will be all." The

office doors slid shut behind Dax and Bashir as they exited. Not surprisingly, Kira lingered behind.

Okay, Sisko thought, slowly stepping out from behind his desk, let's get this over with. "Is there

something else, Major?" he asked flatly, his voice giving nothing away.

"Permission to speak frankly, Commander?" Kira asked.

"Go ahead," he replied, surprised and impressed that she had actually requested permission.

"The security team you assigned, they're all Starfleet. No Bajorans, aside from me. What's the story?"

"Does there have to be a story?" Sisko said.

"The majority of the station's security forces are Bajoran. The Horta had been invited by Bajorans for a

Bajoran project. The attack on the cruiser occurred in Bajoran space." Kira's voice grew more forceful

with each point she recited. "And yet, there are almost no Bajorans involved in the rescue mission. Oh, I

think there's a story, Commander, and I'd like to know what it is." She is my first officer, he thought. She

deserves an honest answer. "I don't want this situation to escalate, Kira. Because of your history,

Bajorans and Car- dassians are a volatile combination. For that reason, I'm reluctant to send a team of

armed Bajorans into Cardassian territory." "You don't trust us to behave?" Kira asked sarcasti- cally.

"I trust you, "Sisko emphasized. "But your mission is to bring back Ttan, not start a war or avenge old

wrongs. We have many fine Bajoran security officers, but I'd rather use Starfleet personnel on this

particular mission. Sorry." Kira's eyes blazed, but she kept her voice even. "I disagree strongly. Bajorans

have a large stake in this mission, and we shouldn't be treated like trigger- happy children." "Fine," Sisko

said. "Your objections are noted. But we'll do this my way." "Understood," Kira said. She turned and

walked out the door, her spine straight as a spear. "I'11 be under way shortly." The double doors closed

behind her with a whish of air.

"Good luck," Sisko said. He took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. After a moment's

thought, he tapped his comm badge. "Chief O'Brien. Report to Ops in about fifteen minutes. I want to

talk to you about some eggs."

Dax returned to Sisko's office before O'Brien ar- rived. A black equipment pouch was at her side, held

on by a strap over her shoulder. Her blue eyes observed Sisko with warmth and concern. "You wanted

to see me, Benjamin?" "Yes." He glanced at the intricate Saltah'na clock resting on his desk. "Find any

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

StarTrek-DS9-011-DevilInTheSkyCHAPTER1StationLog,CommanderBenjaminSisko,Stardate46384.1:InhopesofrevivingtheBajoranminingindustry,leftdevastatedaftertheCardassianOccupation,theFeder-ationhasarranged,incooperationwithprivateBajoraninvestors,totransportafamilyofHortastoBajor.Intheory,theHortaswilluset...

展开>> 收起<<

Star Trek Deep Space 9 11 Devil In The Sky.pdf

共127页,预览26页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Star Trek Deep Space 9 11 Devil In The Sky

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: