“Well, I can’t just let the underdog die without any clue as to what this is all about,” Vaughn said. “Mr. Bowers, I need to talk to somebody out there. Fast.”
“Still hailing on all known Gamma Quadrant frequencies,” Bowers said, putting his hand up to his earpiece. “And on most of the Alpha Quadrant frequencies as well. They don’t seem to…Wait, I’m getting something.”
Abruptly, the viewscreen image transformed from the serenity of trackless space to a vision of utter chaos. Vaughn caught a few disjointed glimpses of what appeared to be a ship’s bridge manned by more than half a dozen slick-carapaced, insectile creatures. Most of them were apparently panicking, and several seemed to be yelling into the viewscreen simultaneously. Their narrow, chitin-covered heads were mounted on stick-thin bodies; the creatures scuttled about on tripod legs, some of them walking upside down on the ceilings.
“I’m trying to figure out what they’re saying, Captain,” Bowers said. “But the universal translator isn’t having an easy time of it. All I’m getting is gibberish.”
“Well, it’s clear enough that they’re pretty agitated,” Vaughn said, feeling a surge of sympathy for the hapless insectoids. During almost eight decades as a Starfleet officer he’d survived enough shipboard disasters to feel that he understood their plight on an extremely visceral level.
“Which of the ships is this transmission coming from?”
“The one that isn’tfiring on us, Captain!” Bowers punched several buttons and braced himself. The ship rocked to the side. “Shields still holding. The aggressor ship is using some kind of disruptor weapon. Not too much of an immediate threat to us, but the smaller ship isn’t so well shielded.”
Vaughn leaned forward in the chair again as Tenmei touched her console, splitting the viewscreen’s image into two. A smaller, inset image displayed the gibbering aliens on their manic bridge, while the rest of the screen showed the attacking ship and its prey.
“Hail the attacker again,” Vaughn said.
“No response, sir,” Bowers said after nearly another minute had elapsed. “I take that back—they’re firing again!”
Vaughn watched as the disruptor’s searing light pierced the darkness. From the positions of the multiple plasma blasts, it was clear that the aggressor had several hull-mounted weapons.
The screen flashed for a moment, and the ship rocked gently. “Shields down to ninety percent,” Bowers said.
So their hitting us before was no accident,Vaughn thought. They don’t seem to want us here. Why?
“Let’s give them some encouragement to back off. Mr. Bowers, Ensign Merimark, target onlytheir weapons systems. If I’m not mistaken, they’re mounted on several external armatures, three dorsal, two ventral.”
As the young ensign took her place behind Sam at a secondary tactical station, a grinning Bowers drew a bead on his targets. “Good eye, Captain. Targets locked.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Fire.”
A series of blasts from the pulse phaser cannons streaked toward the attacking vessel. Within seconds, all had found their mark, and five small, tightly targeted explosions detonated on the other ship’s hull. Other than those specific points, the alien vessel appeared to have suffered no damage.
“Good shooting,” Vaughn said, complimenting the two tactical officers behind him. His eyes still narrowed, he began a mental countdown. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
“Captain, the attackers are veering off and reversing course,” Tenmei said. “Should I pursue?”
“No, Ensign. There’s a ship in distress, and that has to take precedence. Besides, we still have no idea what prompted either their attack on us or their pursuit of the damaged ship.”
Vaughn turned toward Bowers, who was working the controls with calm alacrity, one hand touching his ear-piece. His silent frown of concentration spoke volumes to Vaughn. “Anything intelligible coming from that damaged vessel, Mr. Bowers?”
“I’m getting a lot of audio-channel chatter, sir, some of it on some pretty unusual frequencies. But the UT doesn’t seem able to parse their language.”
Hunter spoke up then, punching a button on his console that restored the screen image solely to that of the noisy aliens. “Captain, it looks like some of the aliens are wounded. Whether we can understand them or not, I think they could use our help.”
Vaughn studied the viewscreen and could see that Hunter was indeed correct. In the background, some of the aliens were staggering, clutching appendages that were slickened with dark, viscous fluids that appeared to have leaked out of compromised exoskeletons. One hovered over a fallen comrade, clearly trying to tend to its injuries.
Vaughn punched a button on his armrest, opening a communication channel. “Nurse Richter, muster up whatever medical staff you can. You’re about to have company, and some of them appear to be in a bad way. Ensign Gordimer, please have an armed security detachment report to the medical bay. Chief Chao, prepare to beam wounded parties directly there on Lieutenant Bowers’s signal.”
Vaughn turned back to Bowers and nodded curtly. The tactical officer began recording transporter coordinates from the crippled alien vessel. On the screen, several of the wounded aliens began to shimmer out of existence, causing even greater consternation among their spindly fellows.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Vaughn put his fingers to his forehead, wincing. “Mr. Bowers, patch a visual feed from the medical bay to the other ship so they know we’re trying to helptheir crewmen and aren’t just kidnapping them. And keep trying to find a way to communicate with them.”
“Yes, sir,” Bowers acknowledged and set immediately to work.
Vaughn turned back to the front of the bridge. “Prynn…Ensign Tenmei, please find out where the shuttlecraft Saganis and get her crew back here on the double. Dr. Bashir certainly picked a fine time to go out on a survey mission.”
Easing back into the captain’s chair, Vaughn sighed heavily. He studied the screen for a moment, watching the panicked, herky-jerky movements of the aliens. The image summoned an unbidden recollection of a comical children’s holovid he had seen during his youth.
“I can’t raise the Sagan,Captain,” Tenmei said, breaking his brief reverie. “In fact, I’m getting no signal from the shuttle at all.”
Comedy was suddenly the furthest thing from Vaughn’s mind.
3
Colonel Kira Nerys had hoped to wend her way through the Promenade without being noticed. She had only been back from visiting Bajor—and Kasidy Yates—for a short time, and she felt certain that she would find every trauma in the quadrant metaphorically stacked on her desk when she reached her office. Thus, when she heard the clipped and slightly reptilian voice calling her name, she had to muster her resolve not to ignore it.
“Colonel Kira, may I have a moment?” the Cardassian said, catching up to her.
“Certainly, Gul Macet. What do you need?” Kira felt a surge of relief at the prospect of being reprieved from her office backlog, however briefly. She smiled; it was gradually getting easier to do that around Macet, though the fact that he was a virtual double of Gul Skrain Dukat—visually, if not morally—still made any sort of exchange of pleasantries a bit tense.
“I wanted to revisit our previous discussion regarding the Cardassia–Bajor peace talks. It’s been two weeks now since the negotiations stalled. Two weeks since I had to ferry Ambassador Lang back to Cardassia Prime empty-handed.”
This wasn’t news to Kira, though she found it hard to believe that two weeks could have passed so quickly.