The Dominion War_ Behind Enemy Lines Part 20

Grof breathed a raspy sigh of relief. "You see, Sam. Now what do you think about the Jem'Hadar?"

"I think the d.a.m.ned idiots should have shot down that meteoroid before it got to us!" growled Sam. "Enrique, open a channel to them."

"Belay that order," said the Trill. "Sam, I beg you, don't do anything foolish."

"I'm the captain of this star-crossed s.h.i.+p," muttered Sam. "Enrique, do it."

After a brief pause, the dark-haired human punched his panel. "Opening hailing frequencies. Audio and visual."

Sam stood up and whispered to Grof. "Have some faith in me, will you."

"You're on," said Enrique.

Sam straightened his jumpsuit and stared resolutely at the viewscreen. "I wish to thank our escort for their quick action in saving the Tag Garwal. Our entire crew is in your debt, because we would have been lost, along with our valuable cargo.

"However, that meteoroid should not have been allowed to get so close to us. I know you consider that your primary mission is to watch us, but you've also got to watch the sky. That meteoroid must have had a trajectory that could be tracked. You have to be our s.h.i.+eld and look out for us. If you do that, it will make our job easier." Sam put his hands on his hips and waited.

"They're responding!" said Enrique nervously.

"On screen."

A spiny, cracked, gray face appeared on the screen. The Jem'Hadar lowered his heavy lids and nodded. "Message acknowledged. We will add the service you requested to our duties."

"Thank you." Sam allowed them a polite smile, although he didn't get one in return.

"Out," said the Jem'Hadar before the screen went blank.

Sam turned to look at Grof, who appeared relieved, terrified, and amazed at the same time. "You got them to change their mission."

"To help us stay alive," Sam added. "I guess they think that's a good idea. Don't you?"

"Yes, yes," answered Grof. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sam. I didn't know what had happened."

"Yeah, but you're awfully quick to blame your coworkers for everything that goes wrong, when sometimes it's just a matter of Murphy's Law."

"Murphy's Law?" asked Grof. "I'm unfamiliar with that concept."

"Anything that can go wrong will go wrong."

Grof nodded sagely. "Yes, I can see the wisdom in thinking along those lines. And I must take responsibility for only bringing three probes, which I thought would be sufficient."

"Let's take a look at the one we dropped," Sam suggested. "Maybe there are some parts we can replicate."

They heard footsteps on the ladder, and Taurik emerged from the hatch. "We have secured the cargo and the equipment, but we did suffer minor damage. I suggest we suspend operations for the rest of this s.h.i.+ft to make repairs and review our procedures."

"Absolutely," said Grof. "We can't be too careful. From now on, we follow the maxim called Murphy's Law. We learned a valuable lesson today."

"Yes, we did," agreed Sam, although he wasn't talking about the same lesson. He had learned the c.h.i.n.k in the Jem'Hadar's armor, but it would require a great deal of courage to exploit it.

There was really only one person he would need to take into his confidence-Leni Shonsui, the transporter operator. For the time being, the fewer people who knew, the better; plus Shonsui disliked Grof and wouldn't be inclined to talk to him. The Trill had to be kept in the dark and neutralized, when the time came.

He looked up to see the professor giving him a warm smile, which he found rather unsettling while he was scheming to murder the man. "You did a superb job during the crisis, Sam, and I was wrong-it was a good idea to contact our escort. From now on, I'm going to temper my criticism."

"Good idea, Grof." Sam patted the Trill on the back and steered him toward the ladder. "We might as well get along, because we're all going to hang together."

Chapter Fourteen.

SAM COLLAPSED INTO HIS BUNK in the alcove off the bridge of the Tag Garwal. He was vaguely aware of the lowered voices of Taurik and Woil as they held down the bridge and monitored s.h.i.+pwide systems. It was downtime on the tanker while they licked their wounds after the near-fatal accident. Apart from the shaken nerves, the major effect was obvious: they were down to one probe with only about a fourth of their projected cargo in the hold.

Unfortunately, this meant that Sam would have to put his plans into effect before they accidentally destroyed the third and last probe. He had no doubt that they would head back to base with half a load rather than none, and he knew he might never get another opportunity to escape like this one, with a s.h.i.+p.

Sam struggled to push all these conflicting concerns and details out of his mind. He had always been a worrier, even when he was a little kid. In the last couple of years, he had learned not to let it show so much, but it hadn't gone away entirely. Since developing more faith in himself, Sam now made quicker decisions and backed them up more forcefully. He guessed he was learning to command, although most of the time he felt helpless and frustrated.

Of all the commands in the galaxy, this had to be the worst: in charge of both the s.h.i.+p and the mutineers, perched on the edge of a black hole with phasers breathing down his neck. That realization didn't console Sam as he struggled to clear his mind and fall asleep.

Finally the lieutenant succ.u.mbed to exhaustion and slipped into an agreeable dream. In this dream, he was a lowly ensign back on the Enterprise with Ogawa, Sito, Taurik, and those veteran officers like Riker and Worf, who seemed so wise and calm. Now he knew they must have been sweating out every crisis along with the rest of the crew, but it was their job not to show it.

Even Riker was nice to him in this dream, which was like an endless party in the Ten-Forward lounge. Promotions, recommendations, congratulations, and salutations all around! It was like graduation from high school. In fact, some of his old high-school chums were there, too, which struck Sam as odd for a few seconds, until he remembered that this was the Enterprise. Anything was possible on the Enterprise!

He danced with Jenny, his high-school flame, on the dance floor of the Ten-Forward lounge in his dress uniform. Hot dog! Does it get any better than this? After they danced, they walked off to a dark corner where they could study the serene starscape together and hold hands, while listening to the soft jazz of Riker's quartet. He could feel her hands in his, caressing his chest, stroking his face-Real hands shook him forcefully. "Captain, wake up!" insisted the Antosian, Jozarnay Woil.

Sam bolted upright, disappointed to find his dream replaced by stark reality. "What now?"

"Another s.h.i.+p has just arrived."

Sam rolled off the bed and pulled his shoes on. He dashed out to the bridge and gazed at the viewscreen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sure enough, another s.h.i.+p had approached the Jem'Hadar craft at a respectful distance, and the two seemed to be parlaying. He didn't recognize the s.h.i.+p or its origins; it was an inelegant craft, possibly even uglier than the Tag Garwal.

"Is that another tanker?" he asked Taurik on the conn.

"Negative," answered the Vulcan. "The warp signature identifies it as Bajoran. I would say it is a transport, perhaps a scientific vessel."

"Bajoran?" muttered Woil, shaking his head. "This war just gets weirder and weirder."

Sam's sleepy vision and foggy mind cleared as he studied the strange craft, wondering if he dared to hail them. That would depend, he supposed, on how the Jem'Hadar treated the new arrivals. Unless they were part of the club, he sincerely doubted that their guard would let them hang around the prison work party. Still there might be some way to use their presence to his advantage, and this could be an opportunity waiting to be s.n.a.t.c.hed.

"Should we tell the others?" asked Taurik.

"No," answered Sam. "Look, they're leaving. Track them, Taurik."

"Yes, sir."

The bridge crew watched silently as the boxy s.h.i.+p made an awkward turn and retreated. "Maintain long-range view," ordered Sam.

Observing the Bajoran vessel proved worthwhile. She hadn't gone very far before she stopped and turned around to watch them. Sam wondered if the strangers could provoke the Jem'Hadar enough to chase them and desert the tanker, even for a few seconds.

"They have moved outside weapons range," reported Taurik. "Although I can hardly believe they would be any match for the Jem'Hadar craft."

"Maybe it's the Eye of Talek they're interested in," said Woil. "You know, tourists."

"Or a scientific team," suggested Taurik.

Whatever the s.h.i.+p was doing here, Sam didn't want to lose an opportunity. If the Bajorans could be coerced into playing a role in their escape, he had to find a way to do it.

"How close are we to first s.h.i.+ft?" asked Sam.

"Twenty-nine," answered Taurik.

"I think we should get everyone up and get an early start on the day's work," declared Sam, rubbing his hands together as if he were Grof. "Let's put that probe out there and grab some more Corzanium."

Taurik gave him a raised eyebrow, but he still rose from his seat and headed for the ladder, ready to carry out the orders.

Woil looked at him point-blank and smiled. "You've got something planned, don't you?"

"Just don't get too attached to your job," cautioned Sam.

Ro Laren stood on the bridge of the Orb of Peace, flanked by Captain Picard and Commander La Forge, who was seated at the conn. According to their shorthanded work regimen, one of them should have been in Engineering and the other one asleep in his bunk, but all three had come to the bridge to survey their target: The Carda.s.sian mining vessel floated in s.p.a.ce, looking like a glint in the Eye of Talek. To Ro, it seemed incredible that they could deal a crippling blow to the Dominion's plans merely by destroying this insignificant craft. Thus far, all of the Ferengi's intelligence had been correct, even though they had paid a high price for it. The mining s.h.i.+p had to be destroyed.

As with most of the objectives on this foolhardy mission, this one wasn't going to come easily, because sitting between them and their target was a Jem'Hadar attack s.h.i.+p. They had seen enough of these craft in the last few days to know exactly her capabilities and strengths. Making a frontal attack on the mining s.h.i.+p would be suicide, especially with two torpedoes.

They had already tried stealth and guile, by telling the Jem'Hadar that they were a Bajoran scientific mission sent to study the Eye of Talek. The Jem'Hadar had told them to go away. Now they were just outside weapons range, knowing that the Jem'Hadar had undoubtedly meant for them to go farther away than this. Would the watchdogs feel threatened by the small transport, or would they leave them alone?

Picard frowned at the enemy s.h.i.+ps on the viewscreen. "We have to act quickly. Mr. La Forge, can we shoot a torpedo from this range and know that it will eventually make it to the black hole?"

"We could," answered the engineer, "but it would have to be sublight speed, and they would have time to take evasive maneuvers. Then the black hole's gravity would throw off the torpedo's guidance system."

"And we'd be dead thirty seconds later," added Ro.

"Is there something we could do which would be undetectable?" the captain asked hopefully. "Can we make use of the black hole and its side effects?"

With his ocular implants, La Forge scanned quickly between the screen and his readouts. "Maybe there is something we could do. What if we caused a rock slide?"

"A rock slide?" asked Picard.

"Yes. We pa.s.sed an asteroid belt about three hundred thousand kilometers back. In a bunch of years, those asteroids will find their way into the black hole, anyway, but we could speed up the process."

Ro leaned over him. "How?"

"Collect as many as we can in a tractor beam," answered La Forge, "then take off at low warp speed. We cut the tractor beam and come out of warp, leaving the rocks to go on their way. Sort of like a giant slingshot. At near-warp speed, they won't know what hit them."

"I used to throw rocks at Carda.s.sians as a kid," said Ro. "Sometimes they can be very effective."

"It's the shotgun approach," admitted La Forge with a shrug. "We might miss, but we won't have to use any of our torpedoes. There's nothing that will divert those rocks from that black hole-no s.h.i.+elds, no phasers. You can blast them into smaller bits, but they'll just keep coming."

Picard tugged thoughtfully on his earring, then he nodded. "Make it so."

Leni Shonsui was probably the oldest member of the Tag Garwal crew, and the Terran had a tough, no-nonsense att.i.tude about life. She had taken the accident with the first probe personally and had withdrawn from the rest of the crew. She was of Asian extraction, thought Sam, and she might have been very beautiful in her youth. Now she was attractive but much embittered by captivity. Nevertheless, what she had managed to do with the Carda.s.sian technology was quite impressive, despite her one lapse.

Sam didn't want to leave seeing her alone to chance, so he purposely called a s.h.i.+pwide meeting in the mess hall for everyone to discuss the probe situation, only he summoned Shonsui to the bridge one minute beforehand.

After the small woman had climbed out of the hatch, he quickly locked it shut behind her. "Leni," he said, "I won't waste time. You know what we have to do-we have to escape. Now we know that the Jem'Hadar will come into transporter range and lower their s.h.i.+elds to save us, and you have to disable them so that we can get away. Any ideas."

The woman took a sharp breath. "What about Grof?"

"We'll get somebody to neutralize him."

"Okay." She lowered her voice and stood on tiptoes to reach his ear. Her trembling hands gripped his forearm. "Let me beam some of that Corzanium into their warp coil. I grabbed a chunk for myself. Anywhere I put it is bound to cause a problem, even if I miss a bit. We must have schematics of an attack s.h.i.+p on board."

"Yes, I've already located them," answered Sam, pointing to his console. "You take over here on the bridge while I go to the meeting. We'll use the notification icon on your readouts. When I give you the signal, that means we're within transporter range. You have about a minute to do your part. Don't worry about how I get them within range."

"But we won't go into the hole?" asked Shonsui with concern.

"No. Leave that to me. I'm counting on you, Leni, and not a word to anybody. Basically, you and I can make this happen."

"Okay, Captain," she answered with a grin. "And we get to kill a lot of the enemy in the bargain."

"Yeah," answered Sam with somewhat less enthusiasm. Sometimes when he looked at his fellow prisoners, he forgot that they were damaged goods, driven beyond endurance by their captors. He tried to remember all the details he had to attend to.

"We'll fix them," promised Leni, sitting at the conn. "I'll be ready when I get your signal."

"Thank you," breathed Sam as he backed toward the hatch. Now he was certain that he would really have to go through with it. The one person who might have talked him out of it had embraced his foolish plan wholeheartedly.

Sam stepped down the ladder with a feeling of dread. In a short while, he was either going to escape this h.e.l.l, or he was going to commit suicide and take his fellow prisoners with him.

Will Riker was jolted out of a deep, contented sleep by a piercing, frightened scream. He rolled out of bed, momentarily uncertain where he was.

Turning, he saw Shana Winslow thras.h.i.+ng her fists in the air, sobbing pitifully. With her eyes screwed shut, she still seemed to be asleep, but she was also in some kind of torment. Riker felt he had to wake her up.

"Shana! Shana," he said, gently shaking her. "Wake up."

With a gasp she opened her dark eyes and stared at him. For a moment, she didn't seem to know where she was either. Finally she focused on Riker's face; then she gave him a desperate hug, gripping him as if he were the only real thing in her life.

"Oh, Will! Am I crazy? I see my death every night-the one that didn't happen. I was supposed to die on the Budapest-I know it-but they pulled me back from death."

Her fingernails dug into the flesh of Riker's back, and she stared past him. "I see them all-the ones who did die! My husband, the captain, the first officer-"

"Hey, it's all right to see them," said Riker soothingly. "It's just survivor's guilt. Your dreams may take you back to the past, but you're really here in the present-with me. We're alive. I don't know for how much longer, but we're alive now ... and we're together."