Night Of The Wolves Part 25

"Doctor More-ah, Doctor Yopal. He is...not the same...as you are. He looks...not the same."

"She," Mora corrected Odo. "Doctor Yopal is a woman, Odo. There is a distinction between humanoid men and women, remember?"

"Yes," the shape-s.h.i.+fter said. "Woman. She. Doctor Yopal is a woman."

"That is correct."

"And men. Don't make good scientists."

Mora smiled reservedly. Odo had never stopped delivering this refrain from time to time. Perhaps it comforted him, as the first intelligible phrase he'd come up with on his own, but Mora failed to be quite as amused by it as he had been the first few times.

"So says Doctor Yopal, Odo."

The shape-s.h.i.+fter c.o.c.ked his head, an affectation he had picked up somewhere. "Women look not the same as men."

"Well, it isn't only that she is a woman and I am a man, Odo. Doctor Yopal and I...we come from different worlds. Our features are dissimilar because we are of different races. There are many different varieties of humanoids in the galaxy, Odo, and they all have distinguis.h.i.+ng features."

"Different. Doctor Yopal is different from Doctor Mora."

"Yes. That's correct. She is a Carda.s.sian, and I am a Bajoran."

Odo said nothing for a moment, then he gestured to himself. "And Odo. Odo is not a Bajoran. Odo is not a Carda.s.sian."

There was nothing in the creature's expression or inflection of voice to suggest it, but Mora had a distinct impression of sadness. "No," he answered. "Odo is a shape-s.h.i.+fter."

Odo said nothing, and Mora decided that he wanted to change the subject. "You have learned to speak so quickly, Odo. Did you understand what I was saying, before I began my attempts to coax you to speak on your own?"

Again, Odo's face did not change much; though the shape-s.h.i.+fter had been experimenting with expression, he was revealing nothing now. "Understand. Odo did not always...understand. But some sounds...some words, began learned."

"Why then, did you not try to speak?"

The shape-s.h.i.+fter tried a smile, an effect that never failed to unsettle Mora. "Odo did not know if Mora wanted it."

"You mean, you didn't think I wanted to hear you speak?"

The shape-s.h.i.+fter nodded jerkily.

"Well, there was plenty you could have said!" Mora exclaimed, but Odo only continued to stare, his strange, barren expression continuing to reflect absolutely nothing to suggest what might have been going on in his brain, as though "brain" even applied.

Mora cleared his throat. "I've got to finish my notes, Odo. Why don't you go back to your tank."

Odo said nothing, just obeyed. As always, Mora was left with the hunger to know more, though he had no choice but to follow a certain protocol. Had he been left to his own devices to study the shape-s.h.i.+fter, he would have carried out the process much differently, but it was imperative that he perform in the manner laid out by the Carda.s.sians, for there was no telling what would happen to Odo if Mora were pulled off this project. Indeed, Mora had come to regard the shape-s.h.i.+fter as more than just a "project," for he saw Odo more often than he saw his own parents. With as much time as he spent with the shape-s.h.i.+fter, teaching him, testing him, he almost felt that Odo was part of his family, now.

Dukat had called Kubus Oak to his office to harangue the man about his failure to deliver more workers to Gallitep in a timely manner, for the mines were still operating at far below capacity since the accident, now six months gone. Kubus was full of excuses, as usual. He claimed that Dukat had warned him never to pull his workforce from Dahkur province, which was utter nonsense-Dukat had never said anything of the sort. He advised the so-called "secretary" to tell his men to pick up any stragglers found outside the proscribed boundaries and bring them to Gallitep at once, for Darhe'el had been contacting Dukat on the matter with annoying frequency.

Kubus was just leaving to go back to his quarters and do whatever it was he did in there, when a breathless Ba.s.so Tromac arrived in his office, unusually late to the briefing.

"My apologies, Gul," Ba.s.so said. "There was a mechanical problem at the docking ring that needed to be resolved. It could not be helped."

"Well, you've missed the conference," he told the Bajoran. "Kubus is just leaving, and I've no reason to repeat our conversation. Although...I do have a question or two for you, Ba.s.so, if Kubus will excuse us."

The Bajoran official took his leave, and Dukat immediately set to interrogating his aide. "Have you come from the hospital?"

"Yes, sir. I took the last shuttle back, but as I said, there was a problem at the docking ring and all pa.s.sengers were briefly detained while the engineers-"

"I'm not interested," Dukat said tensely. "I want to know of Meru's condition. Is it-"

"Terminal, yes, sir. Doctor Moset confirmed that it is a particularly virile strain of the Fostossa virus. She is not expected to make it through the week."

Dukat's chin dropped on his chest. "Such a tragedy for one so young," he said softly. "I suppose I will have to go look in on her in the next few days..." He felt a genuine regret as he said it. A hard ache persisted in his chest, thinking of her, frail and nearly lifeless in the clinical isolation of the hospital-yes, he'd better go to her, soon. He owed it to her to make her final moments as comfortable as possible. Although perhaps she would prefer to see her Bajoran husband...

Dukat felt his face darken in resentment as he remembered the sob caught in her throat. "My husband," "My husband," she'd said. After all the years he'd spent with her, everything he'd done to make her happy...and at the back of her mind, always it was she'd said. After all the years he'd spent with her, everything he'd done to make her happy...and at the back of her mind, always it was him him.

Dukat looked up at Ba.s.so, who was waiting to be told what to do next, for like all Bajorans, he scarcely had a mind of his own. "I will see what I can do to visit her," Dukat said.

"It is understandable if you can't make it down to see her," Ba.s.so said. "You are a busy man, an important man. You can't be expected to keep constant vigil by her bedside while she wastes away-"

"That's enough," Dukat snapped. "You've done your job, now get out of here."

"Yes, sir," Ba.s.so said obediently, and left the office.

Dukat sat down heavily in his chair. He wanted to unburden himself from thoughts of Meru, but it was proving difficult.

Difficult decisions have to be made every day, he reminded himself. Being prefect of Bajor was not an easy job; it required great strength of character. It required a man who did not allow his personal feelings to distract him from those things that must be done, discomfiting as they might sometimes be. he reminded himself. Being prefect of Bajor was not an easy job; it required great strength of character. It required a man who did not allow his personal feelings to distract him from those things that must be done, discomfiting as they might sometimes be.

Lenaris's raider entered Bajor's atmosphere like a dart. He clung to the yoke, the thrusters propelling him at dizzying half-impulse speed, too high a speed for even the best Carda.s.sian pilots to keep their s.h.i.+ps underneath the atmosphere without losing control. The little raider tore through the air, the proximity sensors clicking madly as he came closer to the target, and he reduced his speed, keeping his attention divided between his s.h.i.+p's course and the transponder signals that told him whether the rest of his team was still with him. They all were, though the Legans were predictably straggling a bit, but not so much as to compromise their formation. Lenaris prepared to descend.

The blood rushed to his face as his s.h.i.+p looped and fell, a straight plummeting nosedive toward the surface of the planet, the hills and glens of Musilla province rus.h.i.+ng at him. There was a Carda.s.sian naval base directly below, a "secret" installation that the Ornathias had learned of through contact with another cell operating in this region.

Lenaris kept his direction steady, correcting for sideslip and watching his altimeter fervently. He dropped closer and closer to the surface, trying to remind himself not to glance away from his instrument panel for even a second. The temptation to do so was nearly irresistible, as he had no guarantee that the base was really down there, aside from the testimony of another Bajoran he'd never actually met in person. But if the resistance was to work on a global scale, it was imperative that he trust his faceless contacts. The base was below him. It had to be.

He got his confirmation in the form of an automated missile, showing up first as a hot blip on his transponder and then streaking across his viewscreen. He expertly maneuvered around it, though he felt panic overtake him for an instant when he saw his brother's craft yawing dangerously on his proximity sensors. Jau corrected and the missile went straight for the Legans, who were flying too close together, as usual.

"Come on..." Lenaris held his breath. Duravit managed to pull up in time to avoid it, but the blinking light that represented Fin's s.h.i.+p did not come back on again.

No! He didn't even have time to cry out, another missile was coming. This time, Lenaris took it out with his phaser banks before it came close enough to be in dodging range. He didn't even have time to cry out, another missile was coming. This time, Lenaris took it out with his phaser banks before it came close enough to be in dodging range.

The formation was broken now, with only Nerissa still pulling straight down in a determined line. "Good girl," Lenaris muttered, and hoped she'd have the wherewithal to take out any more missiles by herself.

He set his s.h.i.+p back into a nosedive, and another missile came after Sten's s.h.i.+p, which had veered far off to the side, swooping back almost into its original course. Sten managed to steer the missile away from the others, and Jau took it out before it got too close.

Nerissa dropped her explosives pack and a cloud of fiery orange debris came billowing up from the base below them, her raider riding the wake of it. Lenaris pulled up to avoid the blast front, trying to tap in a code to the other s.h.i.+ps-proceed with formation. But only Sten seemed to have gotten the transmission, for the others were still flying in erratic confusion. But only Sten seemed to have gotten the transmission, for the others were still flying in erratic confusion.

Lenaris decided he could pay them no mind, and continued on with the task at hand, plummeting toward the surface and ejecting the load of explosives just a few kellipate kellipates above the military s.h.i.+ps that he could now see, lined up in neat rows. He pulled his flight yoke abruptly to his chest and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as the force of the movement pinned him to his seat. The blast erupted behind him, and his s.h.i.+p twisted violently in the sky before he could straighten it out again. Another blast followed, and he knew that one of the others had dropped his load as well. Three out of six wasn't bad, though he hoped at least one more could manage to let loose its ordnance He set his course back for Jeraddo, aiming at a sharp, upward angle, getting plenty of distance between his s.h.i.+p and the base before checking his transponder to see who was still with him. Three shuttles limped behind him, the fourth having straggled somewhere out of atmospheric range. Legan Duravit, Ornathia Nerissa, and Ornathia Sten. Jau's signal was gone.

Numb, Lenaris started to turn back, but his transponder indicated another s.h.i.+p in the vicinity-a skimmer. In fact, two skimmers. No, he checked again, and now there were four, and they were headed straight for him. He increased his speed to sub-impulse and straightened out his trajectory. He would not be leaving the atmosphere just yet, not until after he'd worn these spoonheads out. He checked his transponder one more time for Jau, but his brother's raider was still nowhere within range, and Holem didn't have time to consider it.

"Follow the leader," Lenaris breathed, and dove suddenly back down toward the trees.

17.

Laren walked at a rapid pace, her legs working to keep up with the longer strides of the men. Keeve was escorting Darrah Mace to his s.h.i.+p, and Bram was close behind. Darrah was giving out the particulars as they walked.

"You're going to need environmental suits," Darrah said.

"Suits!" Bram said, looking fl.u.s.tered. "I thought this was a simple job!"

Laren was thinking much the same thing.

Mace nodded. "It is simple," he said tersely. "Once we get her into the facility, it'll be a simple in-and-out. But Valo VI has no breathable atmosphere-"

"Valo VI?" Bram interrupted. "I always thought there were only five planets in this system."

"Valo VI is barely a planet," Mace replied. "It's somewhere between a dwarf planet and an asteroid."

"The facility is on an asteroid?" Bram looked flabbergasted.

"It will be fine," Laren said quickly, looking to Mace for confirmation.

Darrah nodded. "The facility is underneath a beam-s.h.i.+eld. You can't be transported directly inside. That's why you'll need the suits."

"What are the Carda.s.sians doing there?" Laren inquired.

"Well, we don't know, of course," Darrah replied. "But we're hoping to catch them at something that will bring in the Federation."

"Why don't you just kill them?" Laren said. "Who cares what they're doing?"

"Laren!" Bram said sharply.

"It's all right," Keeve said to Bram. He addressed Laren, his tone s.h.i.+fting toward condescension. "I understand why you might feel that way. But you have to remember that everything is interconnected. It's like Torasia's sixteenth prophecy: 'You can cut down the tree, but the roots still hold fast to the rain.'"

Laren made a face. "What does that have to do with anything?" she said. "Those prophecies are all a lot of gibberish."

"Laren!" Bram grabbed her by the shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "I've had enough of your blasphemy, your disrespect!" He took a swipe at her, caught her earring in his hand, and flung it to the ground. "You aren't fit to wear that," he told her, snarling. Bram grabbed her by the shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "I've had enough of your blasphemy, your disrespect!" He took a swipe at her, caught her earring in his hand, and flung it to the ground. "You aren't fit to wear that," he told her, snarling.

Keeve waved his hands. "She has to make her own peace with the Prophets," he told Bram. "You can't do it for her."

Bram released her, and she rubbed her shoulder where he'd grabbed her, feeling angry, but mostly surprised. Bram had never put his hands on her like that before. She bent down to pick up her earring. The fleshy part of her ear burned where the ornament had been torn away, and she looked at the chained bits of metal in her hand. It was an old and silly tradition, but this was something of her father's. She put the earring back in her pocket, not looking at anyone.

"We need to do this," Darrah said, clearly uncomfortable.

Bram nodded. "Come on, Laren," he said gruffly, as much an apology as Ro could ever expect to get.

It was a short trip in the high-powered s.h.i.+p Mace flew. Bram and Laren spent most of it getting acclimated to the c.u.mbersome suits they would have to wear. They were old and smelled thickly of the dust of Valo II, having been in a storage locker somewhere at the planet's s.h.i.+pyards. Finding one that could be easily adjusted to Laren's small frame was a challenge. Laren had been impatient to get started, but once they were actually in orbit of the tiny, irregularly shaped planet, her confidence began to ebb, not for the job itself, but for the unsettling novelty of the transporter beam. To her, it was the worst part of the mission, and she was eager to get it over and done with.

Darrah explained the properties of the transporter and gave her a little communications device that could be tapped to hail him back on the s.h.i.+p so that he could transport her back to safety again, but once she was beneath the beam-s.h.i.+eld, the transporter beam would not reach her, and she would have nothing but her own senses to rely on. Of course, this would normally be nothing new to Laren, but on an unfamiliar asteroid in a musty-smelling environmental suit that inhibited her freedom of movement, the rules seemed to have changed a bit.

Darrah had said he would do his best to transport them within walking distance of the facility, but when Laren found herself crouched in the middle of unfamiliar terrain, her visibility limited behind the mask of her environmental suit, she at first thought Mace must have made a terrible mistake. There was nothing anywhere in her line of sight, just rocks and misty blackness, but after a half-second of disoriented searching, she found Bram somewhere off to her side, and he gestured to something behind them.

Behind me. The facility was only a few paces away, in the opposite direction of where she had been facing. She followed Bram as he scouted around the perimeter of the glinting s.h.i.+eld. The s.h.i.+eld was dome-shaped, translucent in the misty atmosphere. The buildings beneath it appeared as sprawling, squat boxes. She could not see any feasible way to get inside, until Bram pointed out to her an innocuous pa.s.sageway with a simple keypad device to admit travelers. The facility was only a few paces away, in the opposite direction of where she had been facing. She followed Bram as he scouted around the perimeter of the glinting s.h.i.+eld. The s.h.i.+eld was dome-shaped, translucent in the misty atmosphere. The buildings beneath it appeared as sprawling, squat boxes. She could not see any feasible way to get inside, until Bram pointed out to her an innocuous pa.s.sageway with a simple keypad device to admit travelers.

A voice crackled in Laren's head and she started at the odd effect of the radio inside her environmental helmet; it was Darrah, back on the s.h.i.+p. "Laren? Bram?" "Laren? Bram?"

"We're here," Laren said, almost in unison with Bram.

"Good," Darrah replied. Darrah replied. "Do you see the facility?" "Do you see the facility?"

"Yes," Laren said. "There's just the one pa.s.sageway, like you said."

"Can you bypa.s.s it?"

"Yup," Laren said without hesitation.

"Good. Now, remember. There are usually only two or three Carda.s.sians in there at a time, according to our scans. They have minimum security detail, and only one soldier patrols while the others sleep. There is one soldier awake in there right now, according to the schedule we've logged. He should be in the back part of the building, where we think the center of operations must be. You will have to find a console to hack the system. If you can reconnect the security loop quickly enough, you can just slip out, we'll take off, and they'll never even know we were here."

"You think you can handle it, Laren?" Bram was sounding much friendlier now than he had back on Valo II, probably out of guilt for being so mean, or maybe because he was about to let her go straight into a nest of gra.s.s vipers. Bram was sounding much friendlier now than he had back on Valo II, probably out of guilt for being so mean, or maybe because he was about to let her go straight into a nest of gra.s.s vipers.

"Of course I can," she said stoutly.

"Well, you've never lacked confidence," Bram said, his voice hollow in her earpiece, and the figure in the suit next to her drew its phaser. Bram said, his voice hollow in her earpiece, and the figure in the suit next to her drew its phaser. "I'll cover you. The minute anything goes wrong-" "I'll cover you. The minute anything goes wrong-"

"Nothing's going to go wrong," she a.s.sured him, her own voice echoing oddly inside the curved plastic of her visor. "This is the easiest job I've ever seen. I could do this with my eyes closed."

"Well, then..."

Laren knew about thirty Carda.s.sian override codes by heart, but she didn't want to take the chance that this system would shut down once two or more incorrect codes were entered consecutively. She'd do better to just hack her way straight inside, and that would also probably disable any security systems that alerted the inhabitants of the facility that anyone was here. Her hands clumsy in the imprecise gloves of her environmental suit, she used the edge of a spanner to pry open the security panel. With the same spanner, she separated a thick wire from the bundle that revealed itself behind the panel. From a pocket in her suit, she retrieved a pair of spring-loaded snips and clipped a few specific wires. The door opened obediently, and she stepped inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, it closed behind her, and she headed down the short, gla.s.sy corridor, sealing her in from the strange terrain outside. Her breathing inside the helmet sounded noisy and labored.

As she approached a second door, she found another panel imprinted with a Carda.s.sian insignia-the same sort of inverted-teardrop sigil she had seen on many pieces of Carda.s.sian equipment. It mimicked the shape of some of their s.h.i.+ps, a fan tapering down into a two-p.r.o.nged blunt spade at the bottom. This one, however, was a bit different. The bottom looked not so much like a spade as a tail, the whole thing appearing as some kind of ugly, poisonous sea creature. Usually she had seen only the outline of this sigil, but this one was filled in with a pale green, drifting to purple at the top. It looked ominous, and her thoughts wandered to things supernatural-the Fire Caves, Pah-wraiths, and angry borhyas. borhyas. She pushed that foolishness away and went about her business. She pushed that foolishness away and went about her business.

With the spanner, she punched in a universal encryption sequence at the keypad, and then punched in another, and another. Carda.s.sian pa.s.scodes never had more than seven characters, at least none that she had seen. But this one-it was different. She began to feel the finest sliver of worry as she tried another sequence. What was different about this facility? She looked again at the colorful insignia near the door and began to wonder if she wasn't dealing with something a little different from the Carda.s.sian soldiers who tromped around Bajor like automatons.

It was then that she noticed it-faint through the sounds of her own echoed breathing in the s.p.a.cesuit, but it was there-a discernible clicking noise in her earpiece, as though she were being timed. Shaken, she began to move faster. She had encountered this type of alarm before. If she failed to enter the correct code before the countdown concluded, the system would shut down. She didn't know how much time she had, but she should probably a.s.sume that it wasn't much.

After a few feverish moments, she thought she had it. She separated another wire and used her snips to clip a few strands. An arc of electricity spit menacingly before fizzling out, and she released a breath. The door slid noiselessly open, and she stepped inside.

She removed her helmet and gloves and took a deep breath, but the heat in the facility quickly made her feel sluggish. She stuffed the gloves into the helmet and tucked it under her arm, looking around for a computer console and fingering the datarod in the pocket of her heavy suit. She found a console not far inside the building, and, trying to be as stealthy as she could in her clunky attire, she quickly began to hack into the system. She had to hunt and peck at the Carda.s.sian characters on the keyboard. She could read Carda.s.sian letters somewhat, but only piecemeal, one at a time, and she struggled to hurry as she murmured the phonetic sounds under her breath.

She jammed the datarod into a port and waited while the download ran. She entered a code to s.h.i.+eld the activity from anyone else who might be in the compound, but stopped tapping as she became aware of a sound. Voices. Voices.

She plucked the datarod from its port and crouched down below the console, peering just over the edge to see what was going on. She was shocked to see a Carda.s.sian emerge from a doorway built into the floor, and he was talking to someone below him. How could that be? Mace had said that there was only one soldier awake right now, and he was in the other wing of the building. How had he overlooked these two? Could there be a s.h.i.+eld that protected them from scans, maybe an underground bunker where they could not be detected? Laren hunkered down further below the console, wondering if she should contact Bram or just try to slip out on her own. The Carda.s.sians had not been wearing armor, he should be easy enough to shoot, if she had to...

She peered over the edge of the console again, and what she saw next stopped her heart in her throat. The second man who had come from below looked...different from most of the Carda.s.sians she had seen in her life. It was his hair. It was not the same tarry black that the vast majority of spoonheads had been endowed with; no, by some quirk of natural selection, this man's slick hair was a dusty, golden color. A color that Laren had seen on a Carda.s.sian only one other time in all her life. She checked again to ensure that it was true. Of course, it was possible that there was more than one blond Carda.s.sian in the galaxy...but no, this was the one. This was the man who had killed her father.