Star Trek Deep Space 9 19 Tempest

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Star Trek - DS9 - 019 - Tempest
CHAPTER 1
"I WILL NOW inspect your aft cargo bay," Worf informed her.
The Sattar woman squinted up at him. "I told you all of the cargo bays were searched last night by station
security. In fact, they went over the entire ship with a portable particle sweeper! I don't know what else
you expect to find poking around like this with a tricorder." "I am aware the Reaper has been cleared,
Senior Mate Cali." Worf knew that if he did not stop her, the Sattar would keep complaining and he
would never get done. She had made it clear that the transport was on a tight turnaround, but that was
none of his concern. "As Strategic Operations Officer, it is within my jurisdiction to inspect any vessel
allied with the Klingon Empire." "How nice for you." She wrinkled her fuzzy nose at him. "But you're
wasting your time. We haven't contracted with any Klingons for months... and we aren't likely to if I can
help it," she added bitterly.
Since the Sattar were not known for their honesty, Worf discounted her statement. The Sattar Collective
had been reluctant members of the empire since their world had been conquered over one hundred years
ago, yet when they were not operating on the narrow border between Federation trade laws and the
Ferengi Alliance, many Sattar cooperated with Klingons to their own advantage.
Worf had watched the Reaper since her arrival the night before, timing his inspection just prior to their
departure in order to catch them off guard. Cali, the senior mate assigned to accompany him, was typical
of the Sattar he had encountered in the past. She was a small humanoid, covered with tawny fur that had
been smoothed into decorative swirls on her face and chest. But her impetuous temper was reflected in
the disheveled curls hanging over her forehead and the tangled mass of reddish-brown mane running
down the back of her head and neck.
"The aft cargo bay," Worf prompted.
Call snorted, but she turned on her heel. "It's right here, as if you didn't know." As they entered the cargo
bay, Worf's hand lingered on the curved support beam. It felt odd to be inside a Klingon vessel again, so
right, and yet not--
2
"This isn't a bird of prey," Cali spoke up behind him, surprising him out of his reverie. Her arms were
crossed. "It isn't even a cruiser. It's an old transport ship, in case you haven't noticed. I suppose we
should be flattered we're worth this much effort." Worf ignored her caustic remarks, proceeding with his
investigation. The recent termination of the peace treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire
made it imperative that he pursue every scrap of information. Odo's team had picked up traces of
solotine in their particle sweep. It was a catalyst often used in Klingon explosive devices such as bombs
and mines. But the Reaper's cargo bay was empty except for stacked containers and anti-gray pallets.
"Open this panel." He gestured at random to one of the vents in the bulkhead. If this vessel had
transported solotine, there would be a breakdown residue of nitrogen-dexitrin left in the atmospheric
intake vents.
Cali shrugged and made an elaborate show of undoing the panel. Worf waited until she stepped aside,
knowing how touchy Sattar were about physical contact. While Cali had simply bent over to reach the
panel, Worf was forced to kneel down, leaning in to bring his tricorder close to the junction node of the
vent. There were no immediate indicators of solotine contamination-- "Arrgh!" he exclaimed as a burst of
white-hot steam erupted in his face.
Protecting his eyes, he jumped back, unbalanced by his awkward position. He bumped into Call and
they both went down.
Worf's shoulder hit the deck, and he could feel Call entangled in his legs. She was fighting to get away as
he glared back at the plasma leak. The lethal stuff was merrily hissing into the air. Only his quick reflexes
had kept him from getting a nasty plasma burn in his eyes. As it was, he had to restrain himself from
rubbing his eyes, blinking to clear his vision.
Instinctively he edged toward the nearest bulkhead, protecting his back in case of an attack. But Call was
swearing in Klingon as she limped toward the door to hit the comm. "Plasma leak in the aft cargo bay,"
she drawled. "Get someone down here, will you?" Worf did not appreciate the situation, or the smile on
the Sattar's face when she turned around. He considered the possibility that she had somehow planned
the accident. Aiming his tricorder at the plasma leak, he detected several other weak spots on the
conduit, but no obvious signs of tampering.
Another Sattar appeared, this one with dun-colored fur shaved to a nub except for his stiff ridge of mane.
The technician crawled under the leak to examine the conduit. "Shouldn't have opened the panel," he
muttered. "These are delicate systems we've got here." Cali ignored the technician's complaint. "Have you
seen enough?" she asked Wore "Or would you like to damage a few more conduits?" Worf checked his
tricorder readings. Normally he would prefer a few more samples, but he had ade- quate data for further
analysis with the station's computer.
He closed the tricorder. "I... appreciate your cooperation," he muttered grudgingly.
"You mean the search is over? You found nothing to seize?" she countered in mock amazement. "Are
you sure you did a thorough job?" Ignoring her, Worf left the cargo bay and returned to the docking port.
Though the Sattar crew had altered the interior of the transport, the Klingon infrastructure was intact. He
knew exactly which way to turn to get back to the airlock, even though he could barely see through his
burning eyes. He had to blink constantly to keep them from watering.
Cali jogged along behind him. "We'll have to do a rush check in order to make our rotation slot through
the wormhole." Woff refused to slow down or glance back at the Sattar. "You may inform Captain Ari
that the Reaper remains cleared for departure." "Ohhh... aren't we in a generous mood today!" When
Worf did not respond, she caught up, running right on his heels. "Don't think I'm going to be grateful! You
Klingons are all alike. If you can't keep it, you kill it~ And you don't care who you destroy as long as you
can call yourselves warriors." Her voice rose. "Hey, I'm talking to you, Klingon!" Worf stopped and
looked down at this feisty little Sattar, ready to make war with the entire Klingon Empire right here, right
now. He wondered if she was any good with a bat'leth.
The spark of admiration in his gaze seemed to infuriate her even more. "You're dying to know what's
going on, aren't you?" she taunted. "I don't know who you're gathering information for, 'the Klingons or
the Federation--" She waved off his dark look. "Sure, you wear a Starfleet uniform. But you don't have
to prove anything to me. I'm just telling you. You know nothing about this part of space." "Your
assessment would be informative," he said raising his tricorder. "Have you encountered recent Klingon
activity in the nearby sectors?" "Oh, sure! We'll have a nice long chat, right after our weekly game of
ba'zon." She was smiling in that smug way again. "You've been on this station how long? Three weeks,
maybe four?" Her accuracy was unnerving. He could also tell he would get nothing more from Senior
Mate Cali, and he was therefore unwilling to enter into a personal argument with her.
He remained silent until they reached the airlock and then he adhered strictly to protocol. "Does your
captain plan to record your logs before departure?" Cali laughed right in his face. Wisps of hair shook in
a faint aureole around her head. "Blimenny. You do try to control everything, don't you?" "It is for your
own protection--" "Spare me the hypocrisy." Cali deliberately turned away. "All Klingons are alike."
Before Worf could say anything, his comm badge signaled and Dax's voice asked, "Commander Worf?"
"Worf here," he immediately replied.
"Please report to upper pylon three." That meant a large vessel was docking. "On my way," Worf
confirmed.
Cali was still sneering as she let him through the airlock. "Explain all you want, but it's still the same old
Klingon game. Glory! You'd think a bunch of idiots who are that violent and self-serving would have
killed themselves off a long time ago." As he left, Worf felt compelled to comment, "You must be an
expert at self-defense. I can think of no other reason for your continued survival in the Klingon Empire."
Her eyes flashed. "I guess there's no such thing as justice in this universe, is there?" The airlock slammed
behind him, as Worf realized that was the very question he had been considering since he had transferred
to the station. He knew that if he had anything to do with it, there would be justice served in this part of
the universe. And he would do everything in his power to preserve the Federation's tentative balance with
the Klingon Empire, and to prevent their conflict from escalating into war.
Worf ignored the pain that throbbed in his eyes, proceeding directly to the lower pylon. When he
reached the viewport at the base of the pylon, there was no ship in dock. With practiced self-control, he
resisted speculating on the incoming vessel.
Nodding to the Bajoran technician at the docking control station, Worf activated the viewer to Ops.
"Commander Worf at lower pylon docking control." Dax's face appeared, filling the small round screen.
"Worf, we've finally heard from the scoutship Ceres.
Captain Ils reports they are being towed in by the Bajoran tug, Hum 'bernt." "The Ceres was damaged?"
"They suffered a hit-and-run attack while they were at full stop, shields down. They lost warp drive,
navigation, sensors, and communications..." Dax looked grim. "Five crew members were killed, and the
rest are ill with radiation poisoning from the nearby plasma storm. They were on thrusters when the
Hum'bernt found them." "Who attacked them?" Worf growled, already certain of the answer.
But Dax shook her head. "Their identity is unconfirmed. The Ceres was able to get only minimal readings,
enough to know it was a single ship." Worf glanced at the technician, who uneasily edged away. Another
example of the lax security on this station. Now it was too late to try to classify this information. "When
did it happen?" "Yesterday, about this time." He clenched his jaw. The attackers could be anywhere by
now. "And they have no information on the vessel?" "The scout was on the edge of the plasma storm,
Worf, investigating some unusual readings. The radiation was interfering with their sensors when they
were attacked." She glanced over her shoulder, toward Captain Sisko's office. "You're to get a report
from Captain Ils. Most of the crew will be beamed directly to the infirmary for radiation treatment once
the Ceres is within range." Worf nodded curtly. "Have two security teams report to me here." "Aye,
Commander." As Worf reached out to terminate the transmission, Dax added, "Better make sure
someone good is on the docking tractors. Remember the Andorian freighter that tug brought in last
week?" "Thank you, Commander," he said dryly. Now the Bajoran technician was looking worried.
Maybe Dax's warning was just another example of her bizarre humor, but Worf could never be sure with
the Trill.
Accessing the main viewer, Worf was able to watch the tug tow in the comparatively huge Starfleet
scoutship. Dax had probably offered to assist with the station's tractor beams once they were within
range, but Worf had seen for himself that nothing was that easy on the station. He had overheard far too
much discussion lately among Kira, the Bajoran government, and the local version of the scavengers'
union, arguing incessantly over towing regulations and whether tugs were required to bring a vessel into
dock in order to receive payment. Worf thought it was nonsense, like many of the other convoluted
procedures in this sector that seemed specifically designed to frustrate real, decisive action.
He did not believe he would ever become accustomed to this sort of delay, yet he didn't move a muscle
in spite of his most fervent wish to get hold of the Ceres. A security team arrived and waited at one side
with their portable equipment, and he ordered another team to go below to prepare one-man pods for an
external examination of the scoutship. There were always clues left behind by weapons, clues that could
be used to determine the exact course of a battle as well as the identity of the attacking vessel.
His personal contacts had reported considerable Klingon activity in the area, with vessels en route
between the conquered Cardassian planets and the Klingon Empire. It was likely the Ceres had been
attacked by Klingons. Or perhaps by a Sattar transport smuggling supplies to the Klingon outposts in
Cardassian territory.
Yet Worf did not discount the possibility of a Maquis ambush. Tactically it made sense for them to take
advantage of the situation to make a preemptire strike against Starfleet. Or it could have been a
Jem'Hadar attack. Many of the officers on the station would agree with that hypothesis; there had been
growing rumors of Jem'Hadar infiltration using cloaking devices captured during the failed Romulan-
Cardassian invasion of the Dominion home world.
But privately Worf considered that an unlikely possibility at this juncture.
Magnifying the image of the Ceres, Worf focused first on the imploded warp nacelle, then the punctured
bulkheads in the body of the ship, particularly around the dish-shaped navigational array. The targeting
had been precise, taking out the major weapons and sensor systems in two, perhaps three, sweeps.
With that much damage and a crew complement of almost one hundred fifty, they were lucky there were
only five deaths.
Worf switched to the pylon sensors to watch the docking. The Hum'bernt seemed to strain as it swung
the Ceres around, then slowly backed her in. There were a few breathless moments as the scoutship
neared the station when it seemed to speed up as the gap closed. Worf instinctively held his breath,
though he knew it was an optical illusion from the adjustment of his eyes to the real space-time view.
The Bajoran technician suddenly became iron cool, smoothly catching the Ceres with the tractors and
slowing her approach. The round port eased up to the station, an alignment of two microscopic points.
They met at precisely the moment the Ceres stopped. The last few centimeters closed with a whisperlike
shudder of contact through the pylon.
"Good work," Worf told the technician.
"Thank you, sir." She lifted her chin, as if determined to never again show trepidation about a docking
maneuver.
There was a somber urgency to the preparations for opening the airlock, while communications were
relayed regarding the transport of the most seriously injured to the infirmary. Captain Iis was waiting on
the other side of the port, but she remained on board the Ceres as a long line of crew members with
minor injuries filed onto the station. Medical technicians arrived to assist.
Despite the various degrees of shock that showed on the faces of the crew Worf's gaze kept returning to
ll Captain Ils. Her face was creased with lines of stress, but her pride shone through the sweat and
smudges earned during their effort to return to safety. She offered a few words here and there,
occasionally clasping an arm or giving a nod of reassurance. Worf had heard rumors about the crews
under Captain Iis, of the bond they felt for one another. It couldn't match what he had experienced on the
Enterprise. yet he admired their determination to be strong, to prove they weren't beaten, to be a credit
to their captain.
Worf entered the docking port and came to attention in front of Captain Iis. "Commander Worf,
requesting permission to board the Ceres." "Permission granted, Commander." Iis seemed to appreciate
his adherence to protocol. "This is the last of the injured. I have a skeleton crew in place locking down
the systems." "The security team can assist as they begin the investigation," Worf offered. At the captain's
tired nod, he called security inside and deployed them to their stations.
Distracted by the sight of her departing crew members, Iis told Worf, "I've sent one of my ensigns to
fetch the data on the plasma storm. You'll need to plot the trajectory to make sure it's not coming this
way." "I am concerned about the attack on the Ceres," Worf informed her, wondering at her choice of
priorities at this moment.
"I don't have much to add to my initial report. We were at full stop, scanning the plasma storm...
defenseless. There was no provocation, no reason for it..." The captain seemed to shake herself,
returning to the facts. "Perhaps the other ship was also skirting the plasma storm and couldn't read us
through the emission waves. Then when they stumbled on us, they fired." "It will be necessary to analyze
your sensor logs." "Of course, though I warn you, we didn't get enough data to be able to make a
positive identification." Iis hesitated, then added, "But one of my lieutenants did catch a glimpse of the
ship through a porthole, and she said it looked Klingon." "A bird of prey?" Worf demanded.
"No, something different, a design she wasn't familiar with. By the way, this is all hearsay. Another one of
my officers informed me of her sighting." Wolf seized on the clue. "I must speak with the lieutenant
immediately." Captain Iis grimaced. "That's impossible. She suffered a blow to the head. The doctor says
she's in a coma and he's been unable to help her regain consciousness." Worf's disappointment was
sharp, reminding him that a good investigator did not get personally involved in a case. It could distort his
interpretation of the evidence. Yet he had to admit satisfaction at even the most tentative confirmation that
Klingons were involved. It was just as he suspected.
"I noticed that there's a Klingon vessel docked here," Captain Ils said quietly. "When did it get in?" "The
Reaper is a transport belonging to the Sattar
12 13 Collective." He didn't have to check his tricorder for the docking information. "They arrived
yesterday at fourteen hundred hours." "Do they have the legs to get here that fast?" More to the point,
Worf was not certain the Reaper's weapons systems were capable of inflicting this much damage. But he
intended to find out. "I have not yet completed my investigation. I will inform you as soon as I have
analyzed the information." An ensign rushed up to Captain Iis, offering her a padd. "Good," Iis said in
relief, checking the data.
"Commander, you had better get this to your science officer right away. I hope that storm isn't headed in
this direction. The radiation caused almost as much damage to my crew as the attack did." Worf took the
padd, bracing the captain for a moment as she lost her balance. "You should go to the infirmary," he told
her. The ensign chimed in, concerned but too respectful to do more than offer to support her captain.
Iis demurred, glancing up in concern at the ceiling of her bridge.
"There is nothing more for you to do," Worf said bluntly. Yet he felt a great deal of sympathy for Captain
Iis, surveying the remnants of her command.
"Repair crews are currently assessing the damage, and you will receive a report shortly on the condition
of your ship." Captain Iis nodded agreement, but she remained at her post until the last of her crew
members had departed. Then she handed over command to a senior officer and prepared to follow the
others through the airlock.
"Wait, Captain," Worf said. He signaled Ops for the transporter to take Iis to the infirmary. She could
hardly stand up straight and her lips trembled from the effort. After everything else she had been through,
it was not necessary for her to drag hemelf through the mile-long corddom to the infirmary in the core.
But as the captain dematerialized, Worf was not thinking of the buckled hull of the Ceres. Instead he saw
the saucer section of the Enterprise buried in the ground, with that long scar stretching into the distance
behind it. And the cracked glass of the bridge dome forming a jagged frame for the blue sky.... He hoped
the Ceres could be repaired. He swore to himself that if the Sattar were responsible, he would discover
the truth and make them pay for it. Perhaps this was the reason Senior Mate Cali was in such a hurry to
leave DS9.
"Transporter, one to beam to Ops." Captain Iis had stressed urgency about the storm data, and he also
wanted to watch the Reaper to see if the Sattar decided to depart now that the Ceres had been brought
in. Their actions during the next hour could be very enlightening.
As Worf materialized in Ops, he felt the floor shake beneath his feet. "What was that?" he demanded,
looking from Dax to O'Brien.
"I'm not sure," the chief admitted, examining his panel.
Visions of a Klingon offensive flashed through
15
Worf's mind, and he had time to regret that both Captain Sisko and Major Kira were off duty.
Dax offered, "I think it's the effects of that plasma storm. I've been tracking the emission waves. They're
very strong. It must be one big mother of a storm." "I'll increase power to the stabilizers," O'Brien agreed,
"and I'll see what I can do about adjusting the shields. We don't want any radiation leakage." "Captain Iis
claims that the storm is dangerous." Worf handed Dax the padd with the Ceres sensor information before
going to the tactical station. He quickly confirmed that there were no signs of unusual vessel activity on
long-range sensors.
Then he accessed star charts of the neighboring sector, where the Ceres had been scanning the storm.
Perhaps the attacker had been protecting the secrecy of a Klingon post just outside Bajoran space.
Tactically it would be the ideal spot for a supply base. The flight plan of the Reaper indicated they had
come from the opposite direction, however they could easily have falsified that information. He
downloaded his trioorder data into the computer for a full analysis of the Reaper's engines, weapons, and
recent cargo.
"Interesting," Dax murmured, absorbed in the readings on the storm from the Ceres. "I'm going to send
out a long-range probe." Worf accessed docking control and canceled the Sattar's clearance, sealing the
docking clamps with a security order. What with the interference of the emission waves, he could not risk
the Reaper's escaping before he had time to complete his analysis.
He noted the order in his log, then began to gather the preliminary reports from his security teams
working on the Ceres. It was comforting to watch the data flow into his console. Soon he would know.
"Ready, Chief?." Dax asked.
"Fire away," O'Brien cheerfully confirmed, deep in his own calculations on the shield's EM dispersal and
band-width rates.
Silence fell over them as each worked on his or her own problem. It reminded Worf of the best days on
the Enterprise.
"Wow!" Dax softly exclaimed, reacting to the first readings as they came in. "I've never seen anything like
this outside a particle accelerator. Unusually dense blackbody... hmmm... and high levels of complex
oscillations." She continued to murmur her surprise, with Worf idly listening, until a new note crept in.
"Wait, what's this?" she muttered. "Escalating bursts. The data's being scrambled." "Need more power?"
O'Brien asked.
"Maybe. I'm going to tie the probe into long-range sensors for redundancy." Dax frowned over her panel
as she quickly made the link. Worf found her technique interesting--not Starfleet standard, but then
almost nothing on this station was Starfleet standard.
"I'm getting feedback," Dax told them. "Better isolate your systems." Worf had already seen the spikes,
and took the tactical station off line from the main sensor array.
O'Brien was right behind him.
17 "Just for a moment," Dax assured them. "Until I get this fluctuation under control--" A surge ran
through the power relays, ringing alarms in the secondary stations. Dax tried to compensate, hitting the
touch pads with frantic fingers.
"Cut power!" she called out.
O'Brien was wide eyed as he tried to comply. A spark shot up from the main circuit indicator on the
science station. Dax jerked back, then tried to shut everything down as a burst of smoke rose from the
console, followed by a shower of white-hot sparks.
Worf was already running toward Dax, and he grabbed her arms to pull her away. "Move!" he ordered.
A stasis beam shot down from the overhead array, attempting to contain the smoke. O'Brien leaped over
the railing to retrieve a portable stasis unit, betraying his lack of confidence in the onboard systems.
"Apparently the storm is stronger than I thought," Dax admitted, coughing and warily watching her
burning console. Worf made sure she was uninjured before helping her stand up.
"Worfto Captain Sisko," he announced, straightening his uniform.
A brief pause reminded him that Sisko hadn't had a day off in over a week. Yet the captain's voice
betrayed no irritation. "Sisko here." Worf eyed O'Brien's attempts to extinguish the fire.
"Sir, you are needed in Ops. We have a slight. problem."
0
CHAPTER 2
THE CATWALK SHUDDERED as Keiko reached the door to the holosuite. She couldn't help
bumping into a young Bajoran woman who had paused to check the numbers.
Keiko caught her by the arm to steady them both.
"That was a strong one." The Bajoran's eyes were round, but she was smiling.
"I've never felt the station shake like this before." Keiko let go of her. "I have. It's probably nothing
serious." The young woman dug into what Keiko had at first taken to be a bundle of costurning for a
holoprogram.
Instead, a baby peeked up through the folds, smiling up in a tiny echo of her mother's pert ridged nose
and rosebud mouth.
"What a precious baby!" Keiko exclaimed.
"Yes, she is," the mother artlessly agreed. "I'm Betenn Catfin." Keiko responded to her smile. "Hi, Catrin.
I'm Keiko O'Brien." Catrin joggled her baby. "I don't think I've met you before. Are you related to Miles
O'Brien, chief of operations?" Keiko nodded. "We're married." She reached out to tickle the baby's chin.
"We have a daughter of our own. Molly is six now." "Oh, I heard about that," Catrin said. "I thought you
were both living on Bajor." "The winter storms are severe this year in the Bernice Province," Keiko
explained, resisting a tug of frustration at the thought. "We had to close down the science survey for a
week or so." And she had just been getting somewhere with those hybrid Bernitii- Serran grains.
"I had a cousin who moved to Bernice." Catrin adjusted the baby. "I'm from Shakaar's province, but my
mate got a posting to the station a few months ago and we couldn't pass up the opportunity. I'll never
forget the trip here! I was out to here," she said, holding out one hand as far as she could in front of her
stomach.
"Sounds familiar," Keiko replied. "It must be tough for you living on the station with an infant." Catrin
smoothed her hand over the little head. "Oh, I don't know... babies aren't easy no matter where you are.
I sometimes think about the labor camp where I grew up and this seems like heaven. I can even work
half-day shifts at Transient Registration so I get to see all the different people who come to the station."
Keiko didn't want to admit that she still found the constant stream of transients unnerving. She liked
meeting new people as much as anyone, but the neverending influx of strangers was sometimes
overwhelming. And though the view of the wormhole was amazing, Keiko never developed a taste for
the Cardassian structure of the station. She couldn't help it, the elongated curves and shadowy niches felt
creepy to her. She was more at home with the sleek lines of the Star fleet temporary quarters that
traveled with the survey team on Bajor.
But Catrin didn't notice Keiko's lack of enthusiasm. "Usually Brucen is home by now, but the docking
crew is taking care of that Starfleet ship that just came in. I'm lucky the holosuite is available or Krystal
would be coming with me to work." "It will be available," Keiko told her, "as soon as I get my daughter
out of there." She gave Catrin a frustrated look. "I hate leaving her here alone, even though I know it's
safe. But I had to. Everyone responded when they called for volunteers to help with those injured
crewmembers." "It's awful, isn't it?" Catrin agreed. "Everyone's talking about it." Keiko keyed her access
code in the locking device on the door. She never took chances in this place. She had asked Miles to
make one of his custom security seals so she could lock Molly inside the holosuite if she ever had to
leave her alone.
"Which program is she doing?" Catfin asked.
"Level one riding lessons," Keiko said, as the door opened. "That's all she's talked about since she tried it
on our last visit. Ponies!" At the far end of the room, Molly was perched on a fat white pony. It was
plodding in a circle around the paddock, stoically ignoring her kicking heels and the jostling of the reins.
A holographic instructor was patiently indicating the finer points of horsemanship on the small image of an
English rider floating incongruously above the pony's nose. Beyond the whitewashed fence were the
images of other horses and riders going through their paces.
Molly pulled her pony to a halt, laughing as she almost lost her balance. "Whoa!" she ordered in a deep
voice. Keiko wondered where she had picked up that tone of command.
"Hello, Molly," Catfin said as she removed Krystal from her bundles. "Your daughter is so sweet," she
whispered to Keiko.
Keiko wanted to tell her that appearances could be deceiving, but she bit her tongue. "How was your
ride today, Molly?" "We jumped four fences and two big rivers." Molly appealed to the instructor.
"Weren't they big? They were huge." "You're letting her jump?" Keiko panicked, reaching for Molly. She
was only half co'nvinced that riding was a good idea at her age, but Miles had encouraged her enthusiasm
by bringing her to the holosuite for her first ride.
"The pupil has jumped only in the holo-image," the instructor assured Keiko, apparently programed to
deal with nervous parents. "Molly has nearly completed the requisite maneuvers for the first level. In the
second level she will learn how to interact with a real animal." Molly's face lit up in glee. "I want more
pony rides!
Can I do more, Mommy?" "Not today, sweetheart." Keiko exchanged a smile with Catrin that only
mothers could understand.
Then she lifted Molly from the pony, ordering, "End simulation." When Molly started to whine, she
chided, "It's this little girl's turn. We can't keep her waiting." "Begin infant nursery program," Catrin
meekly requested. A white-clad nurse and a large sunny nursery appeared around them. "Oh, Krystal!
Look at the bunnies!" Catrin guided the tiny hand to the fur.
"Isn't it soft?" Keiko quickly carried Molly outside before she could get hooked on the rabbits. Ponies
were bad enough. Molly must have decided to be a good girl.
She held her mother's hand without trying to squirm away as they carefully walked down the spiral stairs.
But she kept insisting she wanted "better pony rides" next time. Rather than argue with her, Keiko asked
how she got the pony to turn around and what made it go?
Absently listening to her daughter's prattle, Keiko was surprised to feel somewhat wistful over her fervent
joy. It wasn't that she was unhappy with her life, but it felt as if she was barely keeping up, as if nothing
was settled. It was worse when she saw someone like Catrin. The woman had given up her entire way of
life and left everyone she knew to live on the station just because her mate had gotten a good job. Yet
she was happy with this situation in a way that went beyond a cheerful disposition. Her smile seemed to
resonate deeper than other people's, as if she was fundamentally satisfied in a way that eluded Keiko.
"Come on, Molly. It's time for your nap." She picked up her daughter to carry her through the bar, hating
the fact that the only holosuites were in Quark's. Molly couldn't even have a pony ride without having to
hear shouts of "Dabbo!" and the laughter of intoxicated patrons. But Keiko tried not to rush, knowing
that Molly would sense her dislike of the place and be more bothered by that than anything she might see,
such as the Dabbo girl's large breasts spilling out of her tight bodice.
Keiko tried to sneak past, but Leeta's eyes lit up when she noticed them. "Keiko, you're back! And
Molly, too!" Leeta brushed a finger across the girl's cheek. "Isn't she just the cutest little thing?" It
bothered Keiko that she wanted to pull Molly away, but she couldn't help thinking that Quark's would
somehow contaminate her daughter. And even though Leeta was a close friend of Dax and Dr.
Bashir, Keiko had only spoken to her a few times.
"Remember me?" Leeta was asking Molly. "I met you with your daddy the last time you went pony
riding." "I want to ride the pony," Molly demanded.
"You already had your lesson," Keiko reminded her, hoping she wouldn't chose this moment to throw a
tantrum. Molly certainly would if she thought she could get Leeta's sympathy. "We'll come back another
day." "No, now," Molly insisted.
Leeta grinned at her. "I like to see a girl who knows her own mind." "Oh, Molly knows exactly what she
wants. And she usually wants it right now." "Why not?" Leeta asked. "You're only wasting your life when
you put things off. Right, Molly?" Then she smiled at Keiko. "I know Chief O'Brien would agree.
He can't stand waiting for you both to come home. I bet you'll be glad when this survey is over and you
can get back to a normal life." "The survey will probably last for another few months," Keiko
automatically replied, balking at the idea of a normal life on DS9. Somehow it seemed contradictory.
"You'll be gone that long?" Leeta asked. "Well, we've been hearing about this visit for weeks. He really
misses you when you're both away." "I know--" "Welcome back!" Quark exclaimed, suddenly right next
to Keiko. She edged away, shifting Molly to her other hip, but that didn't stop the Ferengi. "It's so nice of
you to drop by Quark's! I can't tell you the satisfaction it gives me to offer quality holo-programs at a
reasonable price to my Starfleet patrons--" "Not today, Quark," Keiko told him. With a final nod to
Leeta, she started toward the exit. She didn't have the energy for a chat with the annoying bar owner.
"Wait!" Quark called after her, following them between the tables. "I have a demo-program I'd like you
to try. It's the Delanian baths, including the masseuse and private rock grotto. You can do itm" He
grabbed her arm, whispering, "No charge! Just talk it up among your friends--" Keiko shook him off with
a disgusted look. "No thanks." She glanced at the blinking, battered dart board as she passed by. It was
摘要：

StarTrek-DS9-019-TempestCHAPTER1"IWILLNOWinspectyouraftcargobay,"Worfinformedher.TheSattarwomansquintedupathim."Itoldyouallofthecargobaysweresearchedlastnightbystationsecurity.Infact,theywentovertheentireshipwithaportableparticlesweeper!Idon'tknowwhatelseyouexpecttofindpokingaroundlikethiswithatrico...

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