The Dominion War_ Behind Enemy Lines Part 6

"Okay, Boothby, set our course for the Badlands." Ro tapped her comm badge, a distinctive Bajoran design of a sphere and a fin, surrounded by concentric ovals. "Ro to La Forge. Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sir," came the cheerful voice of Starfleet's best engineer. "We'll coax every pa.r.s.ec we can out of our warp drives, but this isn't a long-range craft. We can't cruise hours on end at maximum warp."

"I know we're not going to outrun or outfight anybody," agreed Ro. "Stealth and guile-that's what I learned from the Maquis."

"That's well and good," said La Forge, "but I'm also worried about those plasma storms in the Badlands."

"There are bubbles of calm in the storms," explained Ro. "That's why you have me along. Did you run the scans?"

"Yes. We'll register as a Bajoran s.h.i.+p on anything but the most detailed inspection. Biological scans came up all Bajoran, too."

"Thank you, La Forge. Bridge out." Ro tapped her comm badge again and said, "Orb of Peace to Enterprise: we are ready to launch."

Captain Riker's somber face appeared on the viewscreen. He was still exhibiting his displeasure over this mission. "Launch sequence completed. We are opening shuttlebay doors. Good hunting."

"Thank you," answered Ro. The viewscreen s.h.i.+fted to an impressive view of the thick doors and smooth silver walls that enclosed them. The sight only served to remind her how large the Enterprise was-her transport had been swallowed whole inside one shuttlebay. Slowly the huge doors slid open, revealing the star-studded depths of s.p.a.ce beyond the womb of the Enterprise.

Ro nodded to the conn. "Take us out, one-quarter impulse to a thousand kilometers."

"Yes, sir," snapped the dark-skinned woman.

Picard smiled at his captain. "By the book. You still remember procedures."

"Old habits," said Ro with a shrug. "They seem to work."

With thrusters firing, the boxy transport lifted off the deck of the shuttlebay and floated out the open door. Picking up speed while it rushed past the twin nacelles of the Enterprise, the Orb of Peace soared into s.p.a.ce.

Chapter Five.

SAM HEARD FOOTSTEPS on the ladder, and he turned away from the ops console to see a thin, cadaverous-looking Carda.s.sian emerge onto the bridge of the Tag Garwal. His first reaction was to grab a weapon to protect himself, but then he realized that it had to be official business. He was part of the gang now, Sam reminded himself; and this was his s.h.i.+p.

Nevertheless, the Carda.s.sian gave him a suspicious glare as he stepped aside and let the elegant Vorta, Joulesh, rise from the hatch and join them on the bridge. Footsteps continued clattering on the ladder, and a moment later Taurik's head popped out of the hatch. The graceful Vulcan lifted his lanky body from the hole and stood before Sam, looking nonplussed by this sudden change in fortune.

"Taurik!" exclaimed Sam with delight. He started to rush forward to embrace his friend when he remembered where he was, and with whom. "It's good to see you."

"And you," said Taurik with a slight nod. "There are more of us."

He stepped aside to allow four more dazed Starfleet officers to join them on the bridge. Unlike the Vulcan, their faces ran the gamut from confusion to curiosity, and they glanced with apprehension at the Carda.s.sian and the Vorta.

"Here is your crew," said Joulesh with pride, "except for Professor Grof, who will join us shortly. I believe you know Lieutenant Taurik."

"Yes."

The Vorta motioned to the remaining two men and two women, who were unfamiliar to Sam. All looked to be older, career officers. "Chief Leni Shonsui, transporter operator; Commander Tamla Horik, tractor-beam operator; Chief Enrique Ma.s.serelli, stasis engineer; and Lieutenant Jozarnay Woil, material handler. All were department heads on their own s.h.i.+ps."

The Vorta smiled, quite pleased with himself. "Two men and two women. Two are human, one is Deltan, and the other is Antosian. When you include the Vulcan and the Trill who are part of our team, I believe we have put together a representative cross section of the Federation. All humanoids, I'm afraid. I would have liked to have a Horta or one of your more exotic species, but this s.h.i.+p is built for humanoids."

Sam pointed to the Carda.s.sian on the suddenly crowded bridge. "What's he doing here?"

"Trainer," answered Joulesh. "I know you pride yourself on knowing everything, but you are bound to have questions which can only be answered by an experienced officer. In particular, I'm concerned with tractor-beam operations."

The Vorta clapped his hands together. "I almost forgot-I should introduce you. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the s.h.i.+p's captain, Lieutenant Sam Lavelle."

The newly summoned crew looked suspiciously at Sam, as if he were one of the unfamiliar consoles that surrounded them. He couldn't expect to have this crew's loyalty or respect, so he would have to make do with their fear and curiosity. Plus Sam knew he would have their instincts for survival on his side.

"How much have any of you been told?" he asked.

"Very little," answered Taurik. "I was told that I was needed for a special task. Until I saw you here, I considered it likely you were dead."

"Likely, but not quite." Sam scratched his bare chin, which he had shaved for the first time in weeks. He was also wearing a nondescript but new blue jumpsuit, while his s.h.i.+pmates were still dressed in rags, with unkept hair and unshaven faces.

"It's very simple," he began. "We're going on a mining expedition to extract Corzanium from a black hole. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

Woil, the Antosian material handler, gaped at him. "Corzanium? But we've only been able to extract that in minute quant.i.ties. What are they going to do with it?"

"Reinforce the mouth of the collider," answered Sam bluntly. "But that's not our concern. We have a s.h.i.+p and a job to do-if we're successful, they've promised us our freedom."

His new crew stared at him with expressions ranging from incredulity to belligerence. Taurik merely looked thoughtful. Can't they read between the lines? thought Sam with frustration. In the company of a Vorta and a Carda.s.sian, they weren't going to be able to talk frankly. It was time for this group to realize that they were being given a rare opportunity.

Sam thought back on how frustrated Grof had been when he hadn't jumped immediately at the chance to join up. He frowned. "I know none of you volunteered for this duty, but you were specially chosen. Each of you impressed our captors in some way or another. If you don't want to join this detail and go back into s.p.a.ce, just let me know. You can go back to your pods and your normal duties."

With a half smile on his face, Joulesh looked curiously at Sam. Both of them knew that these people were never going back to their regular pods and work routines, no matter what happened. When no one called Sam's bluff, the Vorta allowed himself a full smile.

"Very well," said Joulesh. "Shall we begin?"

After securing clean uniforms for everyone and taking a tour of the tanker, they began the long process of familiarization. There was special emphasis on operations of the bridge stations, tractor beam, transporter room, stasis fields, and the antimatter containers that had been converted to store Corzanium. By the end of the day, the reluctant crew members had embraced the challenges of their task and were offering suggestions on how to proceed. Sam could tell that Joulesh was quite pleased by their progress, while the Carda.s.sian trainer barely hid his contempt.

Sam and Taurik found themselves observers during a session on how to manipulate the robotic arm mounted to a mining probe.

"I've got a side job for you," Sam whispered to the Vulcan.

"Yes?" answered Taurik, keeping his voice low.

"I want you to inspect the s.h.i.+p and see if there are any monitoring devices aboard."

The Vulcan glanced at him. "You wish to know if we can speak freely?"

"Right."

Taurik nodded in response, and they went back to listening to the lecture.

By the end of a long s.h.i.+ft, they were joined by a taciturn Enrak Grof, who barely grunted as he was introduced to the rest of his s.h.i.+pmates. The Trill briefly explained that he had been occupied with finis.h.i.+ng his regular work and calculating how much more Corzanium they would need to complete the project. He a.s.sured them he would not have to return to the laboratory, and he was joining them for the duration.

As they continued their training, Sam watched his new crew. They were as experienced and competent as any captain could possibly hope for, but they were hardened by their weeks of captivity. Except for Grof, they were probably loyal to the Federation, but were they loyal enough to give up their lives? Was he kidding himself in thinking that they could accomplish anything but saving their own skins for a few extra days? The chances were good that they would all die in this foolhardy undertaking.

"Very good!" exclaimed Joulesh, clapping his hands with delight and snapping Sam from his reverie. "I believe we have made wonderful progress, ahead of schedule. In fact, let us move up the test flight to the next s.h.i.+ft. The Founder will be so pleased!"

The Vorta nodded to the Carda.s.sian, who had been surly but helpful for most of the training. "You are dismissed."

With a parting snarl, the Carda.s.sian climbed down the ladder and disappeared, and Joulesh considered his cadre of prized pupils. "We are entrusting you with an enormous responsibility, I hope you realize that. Yes, you have an opportunity to act foolishly and register your discontent, but you also have an opportunity to further science and improve relations between our peoples."

Sam looked around at his crew. Almost all of them were stone-faced over this twisted reasoning, even Grof, who had avoided Sam since his late arrival. Was he still thinking about the beatings they had witnessed? Or was he still angry over the senseless loss of life caused by the Carda.s.sians?

The burly Trill had barely hidden his contempt for their Carda.s.sian trainer, and Sam was beginning to consider him neutral but still unpredictable. If any of them had any sense, they would avoid being drawn into a conversation over motives and politics with this slimy Vorta.

Joulesh continued to smile gamely at his impa.s.sive audience. "I know it's been a difficult s.h.i.+ft, and you must be tired. This s.h.i.+p has lodging for a crew of twelve, so you have ample room to spread out. The replicators in the mess hall have been reprogrammed for Federation tastes, and everything on this craft is fully functional, except for the weapons systems, of course. They were never much to speak of, anyway."

The Vorta started for the ladder, then he waved back to them. "Use your intelligence, and don't act rashly. I will see you at your test flight. Yes, the Founder will be so pleased!"

As soon as the Vorta left the s.h.i.+p, Taurik moved to the ops console and began to run diagnostics and scans of the s.h.i.+p. Sam hovered over his shoulder, as Grof and the four new crew members looked uneasily at one another.

"What's the catch to this?" asked Enrique. "They're not going to give us a s.h.i.+p and let us fly off into s.p.a.ce, are they?"

"Yes, they are," answered Grof. "As I've been telling our captain, the bond between the Dominion and the Carda.s.sians is weak, because the Carda.s.sians are incompetent. We have a chance to make a favorable impression."

"Belay that," growled the bald-headed Deltan, Tamla Horik. "Despite the pretty words, I say we're aiding and abetting the enemy."

"Keep it down," warned Sam. "We don't know that we're not being observed."

"Actually, Sam, I detect no monitoring devices or listening coils," said Taurik. "I believe the s.h.i.+p is, as Joulesh said, unaltered except for improvements to the containment lockers and the absence of weapons. There is no reason why we should not speak freely. In fact, our odds of success depend upon the ability to communicate."

"Finally somebody is making sense," muttered Grof. "Listen to the Vulcan. This isn't a joke or a test-this is a vital mission for the success of the greatest invention in our history. I've already explained all of this to Lieutenant Lavelle, but the artificial wormhole will outlive all of us, including the Dominion and the Federation. This invention turns the entire galaxy into one neighborhood."

"Giving the Dominion the chance to take over the whole Milky Way," snapped Leni Shonsui.

"Don't bother arguing with him," muttered Sam. "I've already said everything you're going to say, and he won't listen."

"And what's the deal with you?" asked Leni. "What did you do to make captain in the Dominion?"

"I could ask you the same thing about your a.s.signment to this s.h.i.+p. All of us have been blessed, or cursed, by the same fate. We're here, we have a s.h.i.+p, and we have a job to do. Let's get on with it, and we'll worry about everything else later."

Enrique edged toward the ladder. "Does that replicator really have any food we want?"

"I think so," answered Sam. "Go ahead and enjoy yourselves, because I figure we probably won't survive, even if we don't do anything stupid."

"The odds of completing this mission without being destroyed are approximately ten to one-against," added Taurik.

Sam chuckled, letting the tension drain out of his handsome face. "Thank you, Taurik. Do you see? There's no sense fighting with each other. The chances are good that we're going to die in each other's company, aboard this strange s.h.i.+p, no matter what we do. But at least we'll die in s.p.a.ce, not chained in a cell."

Grof scowled and strode toward the ladder, pus.h.i.+ng Enrique out of the way. "We're not going to die-we're going to succeed!" He clomped down the ladder, his footsteps ringing all over the small s.h.i.+p.

Sam watched the Trill disappear into the hatch, then he whispered, "With or without him, we're going to make an escape. But not until I say so."

"Approaching s.h.i.+ps," warned Data.

Will Riker bolted upright in the command chair of the Enterprise. "How many? From where?"

"Three s.h.i.+ps, Jem'Hadar battle cruisers, traversing sector nine-four-six-two on an interception course at warp eight," answered the android.

The acting captain of the Enterprise jumped to his feet and strode toward Data's station. "Who are they after? Us, or the Orb of Peace?"

"It would seem to be us, sir. It has now been nine minutes and thirty-two seconds since the Orb of Peace entered Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce, and they appear to be undetected." The android looked earnestly at Riker. "Estimated arrival time of the Jem'Hadar: twenty-one minutes and thirty seconds."

"Are there any Starfleet vessels that can help us?"

"None that can reach us in time."

Riker scowled. "We can't stand up to three cruisers. We have time to run, but we'll have to stop tracking the away team."

"Not necessarily, sir." Data c.o.c.ked his head. "The Enterprise must retreat, but I could take a small shuttlecraft and land on the sixth planet of the Kreel solar system. With the shuttlecraft's sensors, I could monitor the transport until the danger has pa.s.sed. If I maintain my relative position, I could monitor them indefinitely."

"That's a cla.s.s-Q planet," said Riker with distaste, imagining its cold temperatures and deadly methane atmosphere. Then he realized that cla.s.s Q or cla.s.s M was all the same to Data.

"Its inhospitality will prevent the Dominion from following me. I can land in the polar region where the methane is frozen."

"We can beam you down," said Riker.

"I would prefer to have a shuttlecraft, so I can be mobile."

Making an instant decision, Riker motioned toward the turbolift. "Go."

In a blur, the android leaped from his seat and rushed off the bridge. A replacement officer, who looked young enough to be Riker's daughter, settled into his vacated seat.

"Bridge to shuttlebay one," said Riker, "prepare a shuttlecraft for Commander Data. He's on his way."

"Yes, sir," came the response.

The acting captain tugged on his beard as he paced the circular bridge of the Enterprise. This was his worst nightmare-taking over the s.h.i.+p in the midst of a crisis without Captain Picard, Geordi, or Data. Not only was he worried about his friends, but he was worried about the effectiveness of the crew without her senior staff. He was surrounded by newly minted ensigns fresh from the Academy; half their names he didn't know. Riker wondered whether Beverly Crusher would like to take over for him now.

"Estimated arrival time of enemy s.h.i.+ps: nineteen minutes," reported the young ops officer with a slight tremolo to her voice.

The captain stopped behind the conn. "If they want to chase us, let's lure them to the rendezvous point and get some help. Set course two-five-eight-mark-six-four."

"Yes, sir." The blue-skinned Bolian plied his console. "Course set."

Riker strode toward Ensign Craycroft. "Tactical, send a message to Starfleet and tell them we're on our way, and that we're bringing company-three Jem'Hadar battle cruisers."

"Yes, sir." Ensign Craycroft turned on her communications panel and began to enter the message.

Riker looked back at ops. "Commander Data?"