0

CHAPTER
        1

"I WILL NOW inspect your aft cargo bay," Worf in-
formed 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 Em-
pire 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 trans-
ported 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 rub-
bing 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 mut-
tered. "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 co-
 operation," 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 Kling-
on 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 cer-
tain of the answer.
    But Dax shook her head. "Their identity is uncon-
firmed. 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 any-
where 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 radia-
tion 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 termi-
nate 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 bi-
zarre 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 scout-
ship. 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 govern-
ment, 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 proce-
dures in this sector that seemed specifically designed
to frustrate real, decisive action.
    He did not believe he would ever become accus-
tomed 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 trans-
port 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 cloak-
ing devices captured during the failed Romulan-
Cardassian invasion of the Dominion home world.
But privately Worf considered that an unlikely possi-
bility at this juncture.
    Magnifying the image of the Ceres, Worf focused
first on the imploded warp nacelle, then the punc-
tured bulkheads in the body of the ship, particularly
around the dish-shaped navigational array. The tar-
geting 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 adjust-
ment 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 shud-
der of contact through the pylon.
 "Good work," Worf told the technician.
    "Thank you, sir." She lifted her chin, as if deter-
mined to never again show trepidation about a dock-
ing maneuver.
    There was a somber urgency to the preparations for
opening the airlock, while communications were re-
layed 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 atten-
tion 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 mem-
bers, 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 priori-
ties 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 identifica-
tion." 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 fa-
miliar 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 suf-
fered a blow to the head. The doctor says she's in a
coma and he's been unable to help her regain con-
sciousness."
    Worf's disappointment was sharp, reminding him
that a good investigator did not get personally in-
volved 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 in-
form 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, con-
cerned 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 dis-
tance 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. Tacti-
cally 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 eas-
ily 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 escap-
ing 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 work-
ing 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 tech-
nique 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 com-
pensate, 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, straighten-
ing his uniform.
    A brief pause reminded him that Sisko hadn't had a
day off in over a week. Yet the captain's voice be-
trayed 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 num-
bers.
    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 never-
ending influx of strangers was sometimes overwhelm-
ing. And though the view of the wormhole was
amazing, Keiko never developed a taste for the Car-
dassian 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 enthusi-
asm. "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 incon-
gruously above the pony's nose. Beyond the white-
washed 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, reach-
ing 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 com-
pleted 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 with-
out 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 hard to imagine that
this was where Miles spent most of his off time while
she was on Bajor.
    Quark warded her off with raised hands. "I was just
trying to offer you some top-of-the-line entertain-
ment. It's not like you have anything else to do while
you're here."
    Keiko glared at him, but thankfully Molly didn't
seem upset. She was looking around with interest
from her high vantage point. "Let's stay here,
Mommy."
    Quark's approving glance acknowledged the girl for
the first time. "Maybe the O'Brien family should
move in to Quark's. That is, since you all seem to like
it here so much."

"Thank you," Molly replied solemnly, just as her
mother had taught her. "Can I ride the pony?"
 Quark gave Keiko a sly grin. "I don't see why not."
 Keiko rolled her eyes as she turned away. Why did
she ever try to talk sense to Quark? It never worked.
  Abruptly the floor jolted to one side. Keiko man-
  aged to avoid Quark, stumbling into a table where she
  could support Molly. A few people let out frightened
  cries, then there was an instant of silence before the
  babbling surged up again.
    "Something's not right," Quark muttered, glancing
at Keiko. "Only the computer answers when I call
Ops. Hey, maybe O'Brien will talk to you. You can
call from my corn..."
    Keiko left Quark's without another word. She had
no intention of calling Miles, either here or in their
quarters. But she also wasn't going to sit here in the
dark while the station shook itself apart around her.
Hitching Molly more securely against her hip, she
headed for home.
    But Quark wasn't satisfied until he called out from
the doorway, "Tell O'Brien to fix the stabilizers. This
isn't good for business!"

    Dax was busy with her own problems, but there was
no way she could miss it when Sisko asked for
Kasidy's call to be transferred to his office.
    Since Kasidy had been on the station barely a week,
Dax was highly interested in the effect her presence
would have on Benjamin. She watched him through
the glass doors and could almost hear his calm tone as





he explained about the plasma storm. Actually, it
made sense for Kasidy to check on the situation. Sisko
had been called away in the middle of preparing his
Bajoran sailship for their afternoon cruise.
    Then Dax had to laugh when she heard O'Brien
pause in the middle of his muttered curses over the
feedback damage to her console. The engineer dashed
off suddenly; apparently he remembered he should
call Keiko. He seemed surprised when his wife wasn't
home.
    "There's some kind of big plasma storm out there,"
he said, keeping his voice low as he left a message.
"You and Molly had better stay in our quarters until
we get everything settled." He checked to see if
anyone was listening. Dax pretended to be absorbed
in the data she was retrieving from her damaged
console. "I won't make it home for lunch, but I'll see
you soon. I love you both."
    O'Brien probably didn't realize he had let out a sigh
as he ended the transmission. Then he was instantly
back to giving orders and wrestling with the tempera-
mental power systems.
    Dax finished her data retrival, then joined Kira at
the central Ops console. Kira had appeared in Ops
not long after Sisko had arrived, even though it was
her day off as well.
    As Sisko returned from his office, Dax said, "I'd
like to go down to the science lab and coordinate our
analysis of the storm. The science station here won't
be much use for a while."

    Sisko came down the steps. "What's our current
status?"
    Dax accessed the information from the Ceres, put-
ting the star chart of the nearby sectors on the
tabletop display so both Kira and Sisko could see. The
swirling edge of the storm was rendered in broken,
shifting color lines according to the frequency and
wavelengths of the emissions.
    "The plasma nearly covers the neighboring sector."
Dax pointed to the mass of the storm that blocked the
starfield. "And it's moving extremely fast, causing the
high level Alfven waves, both electromagnetic and
radiation emissions, that are shaking the station.
These shock fronts are also distorting our sensors, so
it's difficult to track the trajectory and intensity of the
storm."
    "According to this, the storm is projected to pass
through the far corner of the Bajoran sector," Sisko
said. "That shouldn't be too bad." "It's a big storm, Benjamin."
    "We already have reports from vessels in the area,"
Kira confirmed. "The shock waves are interfering
with navigation. I've recommended a docking alert
for the Bajoran colonies."
    Sisko glanced at Dax. "Perhaps we should do the
same."
    "It's probably a good idea," Dax admitted. "The
shock waves will only get stronger as the storm
passes."
 Kira made a sound as if that was an understate-




ment. "Remember that plasma storm last year?
Everything was vibrating for days."
    Sisko nodded to Kira. "Issue a general alert on all
hailing frequencies. Warn vessels to dock or evacuate
the sector. Include the coordinates and estimated
trajectory of the storm."
    "It's going to get pretty crowded around here," Kira
warned.
    "Coordinate with Bajoran Flight Control to route
vessels to the nearest satellites or colony bases." Sisko
frowned. "We can also open up those auxiliary docks
and use the runabout landing pads if we need to."
    'Tll shuffle some of the smaller vessels," Kira
agreed. Sisko turned to Dax. "I know Dr. Bashir is
busy with the injured crew of the Ceres, but include
his report on the radiation damage in your assessment
of the storm."
    "The shields of the Ceres were down during their
exposure," Dax reminded him.
    O'Brien quickly put in, "We'll have no trouble with
our shields, sir. I've got both generators operating at
peak levels. The worst we'll have to deal with are these
tremors." As if on cue, the deck shuddered. "Our
stabilizers are compensating, but I'm working on a
way to tie in the long-range sensors for a faster
reaction time."
    "Good," Sisko told the chief. "I'm sure that would
make everyone on the station feel much better."
O'Brien looked as if he fully understood. He was
probably thinking about Keiko and Molly.
 "Sir?" Kira asked. "I have Captain Ari of the

Reaper demanding to speak with you. I've put him off
a half dozen times but he won't let me re-dock his
vessel unless you talk to him first."
    Worf went rigid with attention. "Sir, Captain Ari is
the commander of the Reaper, a Sattar transport. I am
currently completing the analysis of my latest inspec-
tion."
    "Latest?" Sisko asked, as Dax leaned closer to see
the display. Worf had already replied to Captain Ari's
official complaint by posting the storm warning for
ships to dock or evacuate the area. Sisko pointed out,
"They have clearance to evacuate through the worm-
hole. Why have you sealed their docking clamps?"
    Worf hesitated. "I suspect the Reaper may be in-
volved in the attack on the Ceres. However my
investigation is not yet completed."
    "You'll have to formally charge them to hold them
here, Commander," Kira warned.
    Worf shook his head, indicating he didn't have
enough evidence for that.
    "No wonder the captain wishes to speak to me,"
Sisko murmured.
    Dax knew this was important to Worf. He had
completely ignored the flurry over the storm, concen-
trating on his investigation of the Ceres and the
Reaper. Not since their fight with the Klingons had
she seen him so absorbed and invigorated by his
duties.
    "Captain," she offered, drawing everyone's atten-
tion. "I had intended to suggest that the wormhole be
closed to traffic."




  Sisko raised one brow. "Why?"
    "Alfven shock waves are penetrating the wormhole
every time a ship goes through. We're already picking
up elevated levels of ion compensation, among other
things."
    Sisko didn't miss the timeliness of her suggestion.
Yet it was clear from Worfs reaction that he hadn't
expected her assistance.
    Sisko told Kira, "Along with that storm warning,
include notification that the wormhole is temporarily
closed."
    "But, sir," Kira protested. "Most of the ships were
planning to leave the sector through the wormhole."
    Dax held firm. "I don't want to risk alestabilizing it
any further."
    Sisko agreed. "Give me your preliminary report
within the hour, Commander. Oh, and Major, send
the new notification to the Sattar ship. Inform them
that I am currently engaged with emergency duties."
  "Aye, sir," Kira replied.
    Dax followed Sisko up the steps as if heading for
the turbolift to the science lab. But she quietly slipped
into his office after him. "May I join you for a
moment?"
    As soon as the door closed behind them, Sisko
asked, "What's wrong, Old Man?"
    Dax almost smiled. "That was a Curzon maneuver,
wasn't it?"
    "You're even better at it than he was." Sisko leaned
against his desk. "Out with it."

"I'm not sure yet, but the plasma storm appears to
be veering off its original course."
    "You mean it might pass directly through this
system?" Sisko guessed.
    "I'll know more within the hour," Dax assured
him. "Some of the Ceres information has certainly
been distorted by the emission waves. But if the bulk
of it is correct, the storm has made a significant
change in course and is heading directly toward us."
"What caused it to do that?" Sisko asked.
    Dax shrugged. "I've never seen a storm like this
before. But I'm afraid the wormhole might be a
factor. We've seen the accelerator effect it has on
electromagnetic waves. It could be drawing the storm
in our direction."
    "I see. That's why you recommended we close the
'wormhole. Will that cause the storm to shift course
again?"
    "It might. Then again, we haven't completely
closed the wormhole. There's still the partial opening
of the subspace relay to the Gamma Quadrant."
     "You aren't suggesting we close the relay?" Sisko
 asked.
    "I'm not sure if we couM close it. It was practically
burned into the subspace fabric by those comet frag-
ments."
     "And if we deactivated the relay, we would have no
 warning of what the Jem'Hadar and the Dominion
 are doing." Sisko shook his head. "No, the relay has
 to stay open."




    Dax nodded. "This is all speculation, anyway. The
Ceres data is definitely distorted..." She tried to
give him a reassuring smile, but couldn't quite pull it
off.
 "Do your best," Sisko told her.
    Then Dax had to face everyone in Ops. Like Sisko,
they knew her well enough to realize there was
something going on. But she didn't want to worry
everyone needlessly. Besides, if her hunch was cor-
rect, they would hear the bad news soon enough.

0

CHAPTER
        3

Ooo PAUSED AT the railing overlooking the Prome-
nade. He had made a general announcement to the
public areas of the station regarding the emergency
docking order. He thought it would calm everyone to
know that the tremors were caused by emissions from
the plasma storm, yet the level of excitement contin-
ued to heighten along with the influx of evacuees from
the newly arriving vessels.
    The activity on the Promenade reminded him of a
Bajoran festival day, right down to the singing and
dancing, as streams of people entered the temple. Not
only were there more Bajorans, but there was a
sampling of every other sort of humanoid race, espe-
cially in Quark's Bar. Odo had stopped by the bar for
a moment but he couldn't stand Quark's jubilant




pleasure in the face of the emergency. The tight
Ferengi wasn't even complaining much about broken
serving ware or spills, so you knew it had to be a
profitable day.
    Odo surveyed the throngs, mystified by the human-
oid tendency to react to a crisis by throwing off all
self-restraint. It was as if they were compelled to
mirror chaos with chaos, when, by rights, they should
be extra cautious during times of uncertainty. Many
seemed to be indulging in a sensory abandonment
comparable to his liquid state, yet he would no more
start sliding down the banister right now than he
would enter an open airlock with a Cardassian at
his back. Didn't humanoids know how fragile they
were?
    Take Jake--there he was, leaning too far over the
railing, trying to see everything happening down
below on the Promenade.
    Odo casually strolled past. "Back up there," he
warned the young man. "You wouldn't want one of
these shock waves to send you over the rail."
    Jake straightened up, undaunted by Odo's tone.
"Hi there, Constable. Isn't this great?"
    "I'm not sure what is so 'great' about an emergency
docking order," Odo replied, clasping his hands be-
hind his back. "The station has already reached
maximum capacity, and several more ships are wait-
ing to dock."
    "It's not really dangerous, is it?" Jake asked, more
concerned.
"No, not really," Odo assured him. "But whenever

this many people are gathered in a confined area,
there's bound to be trouble. Not to mention acci-
dents. Why isn't everyone more careful?"
    Jake shook his head in amusement. "You've just got
to see it as a surprise holiday. A lot of these crews
weren't expecting to get shore leave for weeks."
    "Hmmm... I'm not sure your father would like
you to be wandering around in all of this."
    "My father is the one who keeps telling me to
experience life. He'll probably want a blow-by-blow
report when he gets home tonight."
    Odo made a disapproving sound, but he let the
matter drop. "I would suggest you stock up on food
supplies. I hear there's a run on the replicators."
    That hit Jake in a vital spot. He instantly started for
his quarters. "Thanks for the tip! See you around."
    "I'm sure," Odo murmured to himself. He had
recommended a curfew for nonessential personnel,
but Sisko had vetoed his suggestion. As the shock
waves grew worse, perhaps the captain would recon-
sider.
    One of his security staff signaled. "Sir, Starfleet
security say they're having some trouble at the airlock
to the Ceres. A Sattar is there looking for Commander
Worf."
    Odo had flagged any unusual activity among the
Sattar for his immediate attention. He had noticed
that Commander Worf had established surveillance
on the Reaper shortly after it arrived, and Odo was
interested in anything that caught Worf's attention.
"Where is the Sattar now?"




  "They're holding her at the aifiock."
    "Send two security personnel there. I'm on my
way." He intended to handle this personally. The
Sattar were the best covert transports available, with
the captains controlling the "members" with a combi~
nation of familial and dictatorial authority. Then
again, the Sattar had learned their trade while dodg-
ing the iron fist of the Klingons.
    Odo unobtrusively made his way to the back of the
Promenade, into one of the crossover bridges. With
the slowdown in turbolift service, he decided to allow
himself the luxury of traveling through the mainte-
nance corridors.
    Checking to make sure no one was watching, he
slipped into the shadowed bulkhead. Unlocking the
access door, he poured himself through the crack.
Using the gravity of the station, he streamed down the
ladder of the lower pylon, curving around power
conduits and passing effortlessly through grillwork.
    He had to reform to clear the security checks, but it
was quicker than any other route. Besides, he usually
excused his liquid forays through the station since
they enabled him to become familiar with every nook
and cranny. If shapeshifters were actively moving
around DS9, they would be doing it this way.
    Odo reformed before leaving the maintenance cor-
ridor. With the current alert regarding Dominion
infiltration, he didn't want to take the chance of
anyone seeing him re-solidify. If he ever got shot, he
would wake up in a puddle in front of Captain Sisko,
and his pride wouldn't allow that.

    He smoothed his uniform, though he was certain it
was in place. It was as much a part of him as his eyes
or his hands. But his time with the Dominion had
taught him that in every gesture lay the essence of the
life-form. Since his primary form was a Bajoran male,
he tried to be a Bajoran male, even if he wasn't very
good at it.
    Odo strode into the docking bay, a narrow, echoing
space that doubled as a cargo hold. Ensign Mooh was
the only Starfleet security guard on duty outside the
closed airlock to the Ceres.
    A small, huddled Sattar leaped up from a blue
packing container at Odo's approach. She barely
reached his chest, but she was threatening in her
intensity, her dark red mane standing on end. "I
know who you are. You're that shapeshifter!"
    The security guard edged forward, ready to draw
her phaser.
    "I am Odo, chief of security for this station," he
said, though he wasn't surprised that the Sattar knew
exactly who he was. It was their mission in life to
gather useful bits of information. "And who might
you be?"
    "Cali, senior mate of the Reaper, Sattar Collec-
tive," she retorted, lifting her chin.
    "I see." Odo listened to Ensign Mooh report that
Senior Mate Call had tried to force her way into the
Ceres, and had to be physically removed from the
airlock. Odo had dealt with members of the Sattar
Collective before, but it was apparently a new experi-
ence for Mooh.




    "Cali, senior mate, you are charged with creating a
disturbance," Odo informed her. "And for attempted
trespass."
    "I only wanted to see that Klingon. You know, the
one in Starfleet. That Commander." She said the
word like a curse. "He's done this to us, kept us here,
missing our contract deadline in the Gamma Quad-
rant. He's got to pay for it!"
    "The entire sector has been shut down due to the
plasma storm," Odo assured her. "The Reaper isn't
the only ship that has been prevented from going
through the wormhole."
    "We would have been gone long before the alert if
that Commander hadn't canceled our clearance."
    Odo had already noted the security hold on the
Reaper in his latest report on Sattar activity. "Never-
theless that doesn't explain your presence here," he
told her. "Commander Worf is stationed in Ops."
    "I couldn't get into Ops," she grumbled. "But then
some yellow-shirts said there's lots of security action
in this pylon, something to do with the Klingon." She
glared at the guard and the phaser on her hip. "This
one wouldn't let me get half a word out before she
called for security backup." She leaned toward Mooh.
"You always this twitchy?"
    The guard simply looked at Odo, exactly as she
should. That was one of the nicer perks of working
with trained Starfleet personnel: they always appealed
to a higher rank.
    "This is a secured area," Odo told the Sattar. "No
unauthorized personnel are allowed to enter."

"I don't see why not. The turbolift brought me."
"It shouldn't have," Odo said grimly. Mooh quietly
agreed. "She must have done something to it, but
there's no sign of tampering. The lock-outs are still in
place."
    "Hey, I didn't do anything," Cali protested. "Is it
my fault if the thing brings me here?"
    Odo thought Cali's innocent expression was rather
overdone. Then two of his Bajoran security officers
arrived.
    Cali lifted her hands into the air. "How many
people does it take to kick one warm body out of a
docking bay? Don't you all have anything better to
do?"
    "Take her to the brig," Odo told the security team.
Then to the Sattar, he added, "I'll inform the Reaper
that a senior officer must come for you. Perhaps
waiting in a holding cell will show you that your
actions have consequences."
    Cali bristled even more, shaking tufts of hair in her
fury. "I only wanted to talk to him! You interfering
pack of vetlhpu'."
    Security hustled her off, silencing her objections.
Odo moved to the console, activating the viewer.
Mooh thoughtfully removed herself to the vicinity of
the airlock.
 Worf's face appeared on the screen. "Yes, Chief?."
    "Commander, the Ceres was just visited by a rather
irate Sattar. She was demanding to see you."
    "Sattar!" Worf muttered, sounding remarkably like
Cali when she had said commander.




    "It was one of the senior mates of the Reaper, name
of Cali. Would you like me to hold her?" Odo asked.
    "No, you need not detain her on my behalf." Worf
consulted his console as if ready to deactivate their
communication.
    Meanwhile Odo accessed recent security activity.
"I suppose you have to agree it's a strange place for
the prime suspect to appear, right on the doorstep of
the Ceres. Yet I see that you no longer have the Reaper
under surveillance. I gather the Sattar had no part in
the attack on the Ceres."
    Worf was taken aback, but he quickly replied, "The
Reaper is incapable of inflicting the damage done to
the Ceres. "Then he recited a list of statistics concern-
ing firepower and shields, making it clear that the only
way the Reaper could attack the Ceres was by ram-
ming her at full speed, and even then they would
probably bounce off the duranium hull.
    "Good," Odo agreed. "I will attempt to quell the
rumor mill. It's likely the Sattar became aware of your
suspicions, provoking this little display."
    "Perhaps." Worf looked uncomfortable, and
abruptly changed the subject. "Captain Sisko will
shortly be making a general announcement regarding
the storm."
 "Oh? I hadn't heard of any new developments."
    Worf didn't rise to the bait. "You are to report to
Ops for a storm briefing at fifteen hundred hours."
    "Very well, Commander." Odo thoughtfully deacti-
vated the viewer. He would prefer to know all the

information when it concerned the station. Yet Worf
had made it clear that this lay under his jurisdiction.
    Odo could certainly understand the need for securi-
ty, yet WoWs manner was far more curt and dismis-
sive than most of the other Starfleet personnel.
Frankly, it reminded him of Cardassian behavior--
their arrogance and pride, confident that they knew
how to do everything better than everyone else.
Watching Worf the past few weeks had made him
realize just how much his own mannerisms had been
subconsciously based on those of his former Cardas-
sian commanders. He was beginning to wonder if it
was necessary to distance himself so much from other
people. It didn't seem to be doing any good for
Commander Worf.
    Nodding to Mooh, Odo entered the turbolift to go
back up the pylon. Experienced shapeshifters were
capable of ascending as easily as descending, but he
wasn't adept enough to scale such heights.
    He exited on the habitat ring, intending to have a
walk around before returning to the Promenade.
There were a few minor things to take care of, but he
discovered a bigger problem when he ordered a
Madkin family to clear the main corridor. They
informed him that the transient quarters were full.
    "You can't block this exit," Odo told them, consid-
ering the station's limited options for additional
housing. "If you will please wait in the Promenade,
we will soon have temporary quarters arranged for
you."




    The Marlkins grumbled as they gathered up their
neat campsite, complete with tenting covers and walls
of storage containers. They finally moved along, re-
luctantly dragging the containers as the youngest
child cried at being woken up. Odo waited nearby
until they left. Mafikins were basically law-abiding
citizens, but they had a tendency to be stubborn.
    Odo was just leaving when O'Brien dashed around
the corner. Without thinking, Odo curved away from
him so they wouldn't touch. He wasn't sure if O'Brien
noticed.
    "Sorry, Constable!" O'Brien exclaimed. He hardly
paused. "Got to get to Keiko before Sisko's announce-
ment."
    "Chief," Odo called out, trying to make him stop.
"We need to establish temporary quarters. Appar-
ently some of the indigent--"
    "We're already on it! We're turning cargo bays
fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen into housing. I'll meet
you at your office with the plans. But right now I've
got to go..."
    O'Brien gave him a wry, what-else-can-I-do shrug
as he hurried off.

    The first thing O'Brien heard when he came
through the door was the sound of crying in the other
room.
 "What's wrong with Molly?" he asked.
    "She's throwing a tantrum. Just ignore her." Keiko
brushed it off irritably. "What's happening with this
storm?"

    O'Brien braced himself against another tremor.
"You two better stay inside. The station is getting
more ships than we bargained for now that the
wormhole is closed."
    "I got your message," she reminded him. "Why
can't I access the trajectory of the storm?"
    "I think Dax is still working on it. But I'm sure
everything will be fine. We've got the station in tip-top
order. That is, as tip-top as this place ever gets."
    Keiko frowned. "Miles, you're not talking to Molly.
I don't need you to come in here and give me a pep
talk. I want to know what's going on."
    O'Brien made himself go to the replicator and order
some coffee before he answered. He had come all the
way down here in the middle of that mess in Ops, and
Keiko still wasn't satisfied. He wanted to throw his
hands into the air and give up. What else could he do?
    The replicatot indicated that it would take thirty
minutes for his coffee to arrive. "Damn!" he mut-
tered.
    Now Molly was practically screaming in her room,
calling out, "Daddy! Daddy! I want my Daddy!"
    "Maybe I should go in there," he suggested, trying
to peek through the half-open door. "She sounds
upset."
    "Let her be upset," Keiko said. "I told her she has
to wait until tomorrow for another pony ride. She
doesn't know how lucky she is that I'm willing to take
her into Quark's again."
    Keiko threw herself down on the couch, thumbing
through some readings on the data clip. He recog-




nized it as the one she used for her Bajor hybrid-grain
project.
    "I could take her in tomorrow if you'd tike," he
offered. "What did the instructor say?"
    "He says she's almost ready for the second level
pony program, but I think she should wait another
half year."
    "That's my litfie horsewoman," Miles said proudly.
"And to think she's only been riding a few times!
Maybe we'll both do a program tomorrow. There's
some country in County Cork I'd like to show her on
horseback."
    Keiko threw the clip aside. "That's just like you,
Miles! Can't you take my word for it, just this once?
She's not ready for a real pony."
    He felt the sting of her unjust accusation, but his
voice was quiet. "I don't get much time with her, but I
try to be involved with my daughter while she is
here."
    Keiko met his eyes, instantly showing how much
she regretted her remark. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miles. I'm
just going nuts here with nothing to do except deal
with Molly."
    O'Brien pushed aside his irritation and sat down on
the couch next to his wife, though he was fully aware
that fifteen different people were waiting for his
orders. Picking up the clip, he said, "I thought you
were cataloging your samples."
    "This time I caught up on the way here. At least that
twenty-hour delay at the moon station was good for
something..." He winced in sympathy at her expres-

sion. He had only traveled once or twice with Molly,
and it was not something he would soon forget.
Glumly she added, "There's nothing more I can do
now without a botany lab."
    "Maybe after the storm blows over you can use the
science lab." O'Brien wanted to forge on, but it was
difficult to have a pleasant conversation with their
daughter screaming in the next room. And he still
hadn't gotten to the reason for his visit. He had to tell
Keiko before she heard it from Sisleo. "SPeaking of
the storm, you better stock up on food and water. It's
starting to look as though it's going to pass through
this sector, maybe even this system."
    "I thought that might be the reason why the trajee-
tory was classified!" Keiko exclaimed. "The plasma
mass is optically thick, and there's not much informa-
tion from inside blackbody sources. Dax must be
going wild over this."
    O'Brien had expected her to be worried. Instead she
was thrilled. He would never be able to figure her out.
"How do you know so much about plasma storms?"
    Keiko gave him that sneaky grin he liked so much.
"I used your computer to tap into some of the sensor
data. But the science lab has restricted most of it."
    "Maybe I can do something about that." O'Brien
patted her leg as he got up, glad there was finally
something he could do for her. "I can use my clear-
ance to get you the same sensor information as the
science lab, along with access to their analysis."
    She jumped up and reached the console ahead of
him. "Oh, Miles! I didn't want to ask. I know it's not




strictly protocol, but I'd like to find out more about
it."
    "I don't see why you can't watch the storm from
here." With a few keystrokes and a voice command,
he accessed the data being processed by the science
lab. "There you are."
    Keiko hardly waited for him to finish before sliding
her chair closer. "There were some unusual readings I
wanted to check out. There's often a wide range of
plasma types within fields and moving masses, and
the catalyst reactions are fascinating."
    "Good." O'Brien watched her for a moment, feel-
ing pleased with himself. Molly was still crying in the
other room, but at least she wasn't screaming any-
more. Maybe he should go in and talk to her, try to
cheer her up as well.
    "What's this?" Keiko asked, then sat back with a
sigh. The station's general intercom signal was re-
placed by the image of Captain Sisko, looking quite
calm.
    "As many of you are aware," Sisko began, "we have
issued an emergency docking alert due to the ap-
proaching plasma storm. According to our reports,
the storm will last at least another twenty-four hours.
In addition, the tremors will increase in severity
before they lessen." He paused to let the seriousness
of his statement sink in. "Those of you who are
unable to find lodgings may report to cargo bays
fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen." His gentle smile
indicated he understood the difficulty of the situation.
"At least it's a bed, folks. I know we're all a little

cramped, but it's only for one night. Captain Sisko,
out."
    "SoUnds like a warning and a pat on the head at the
same time," Keiko muttered, instantly returning to
the science data.
    "Just be glad we have our own quarters," O'Brien
told her. "I'm going to help set up cots in the cargo
bays."
    "Have fun, dear." She smiled at him in sudden
understandin~ She even got up to kiss him.
    O'Brien squeezed her waist with his hand, hesitat-
ing to go. There was only a muffled sob or two coming
from Molly's room, and he considered looking in on
her, but he was afraid that would only get her started
again. She still wasn't clear on the concept of"tomor-
ww" versus "now." Besides, how would he have the
heart to refuse those dark, teary eyes if she begged for
a ride on the pony?
    Ke'lko returned to the console, hardly bothering to
glance up as the door opened. But at least she was
feeling better. If only it was always as easy as a few
keystrokes.

49





0

CHAPTER
       4

WORF WAS SUPERVISING the pod inspection of the warp
nacelles of the Ceres when he received an urgent
summons to meet Commander Dax in the science lab.
When he entered, both Bajoran and Starfleet scien-
tists were busy at every post in the lab.
    Dax detached herself from a group at one side,
saving him the trouble of finding her. "Worf, I'm glad
you could get here before the staff briefing."
    "I do not have much time," he reminded her. "I
must complete the preliminary report on the Ceres
investigation."
    "I think you'll want to see this." Dax seated herself
at one of the main consoles. "And I'm sure Captain
Sisko will want your opinion on it."
 She brought up the standard chart of the neighbor-

ing sectors. A large portion of the starfield was
blacked out by the plasma storm, with radiating lines
indicating the various levels of the emission waves.
The symbol of DS9 blinked in the bottom corner.
    "See this?" Dax magnified an area in front of the
approaching storm. "The ion readings are distorted
by the emission waves, but even that isn't strong
enough to completely scatter the trail." "It is a ship," Worf realized.
    "Yeah, but what is it doing there?" Dax asked.
"They're being bombarded by radiation. Navigation
and sensors must barely be working. It makes no
sense."
    Worf examined her data. "They are accelerating
away from the storm front."
    "They're going awfully slow if they're trying to get
away." Dax glanced at him. "If the emission waves
were at any other angle, I wouldn't have been able to
detect them."
    "The vessel is attempting to hide." Worf was cer-
tain of that. Their trajectory held them within the
densest region of turbulence for exactly the reason he
had been unable to detect their presence on his
tactical sensors. It would take an in-depth analysis of
wave bending, such as what Dax was doing, in order
to spot the vessel. Even with that, they were lucky it
was approaching the station dead on.
    "According to the deflection ratio," she added, "it's
not very large. Twenty-five thousand tons, at most."
 Worf frowned. That was about the size of a family


space-yacht. How could it be the ship that had caused
the damage to the Ceres?
    "Thank you, Commander," he formally acknowl-
edged. "Please continue tracking this vessel, and relay
your information to the tactical station in Ops."
    "Then you'll prepare a report for Sisko?" At his
nod, she added, "If you decide to go after it, let me
know. I'm dying to get closer to that storm before it
gets closer to us." Then she unnerved him by adding,
"I'm sorry the communications relay is down. You're
going to miss Alexander's weekly call."
 Worf drew back. "How do you know about that?"
 "Dr. Bashir told me."
His voice rose. "How did the doctor know?"
"Didn't you tell him?" Dax shrugged it off. "Maybe
it was Lieutenant Lau in communications. They have
lunch together sometimes."
    Worf could think of nothing to say to that. One
simply didn't trade stories about the personal habits
of one's superior officers. At least, not so openly.
    Dax laughed, as if she knew exactly what he was
thinking.
    "Commander," Worf said stiffly in farewell. It was
the correct response, but it sounded faintly absurd
even to him. Maybe it was because Dax was still
laughing as he left the lab.
    As usual, when he arrived at Ops his duties ab-
sorbed any trifling personal considerations he might
have had. The detection of the covert ship was of vital
importance.
 After feeding Dax's data into his tactical console,

he quickly checked the reports from his security
teams. Most were assisting Odo with station patrols,
but the best Starfleet investigators were attending to
the Ceres. Tactically, it had been a perfect attack,
leaving relatively few indicators of the source. But
disruptor damage was obvious even to the naked eye,
and most Klingon vessels used disruptors in their
weapons systems.
    He accessed the trajectory of the unidentified ves-
sel. It was currently gaining position and holding
remarkably steady in the boiling waves of the storm
front. Valiant ship, with power enough to hold its own
despite the adverse conditions.
    The briefing was scheduled to begin within mo-
ments. Odo had already arrived, and the rest of the
senior staff began to gather around the central con-
sole. Worf finished the download of his analysis on the
covert ship, then, out of habit, he quickly checked his
personal code. Since he had arrived at the station, he
had received only one or two messages.
    But this time an unexpected face appeared on the
viewer. It was the Sattar who had escorted him
through the Reaper, the one Odo had taken into
custody. According to the last security report, she had
been released on the recognizance of her captain.
    Cali's face twisted as she spat out, "Qu'vath.t" Worf
tensed at the Klingon oath. She hardly took a breath
as a stream of vile, broadly accented Klingon flowed
out, accusing him of dishonor, deceit, and generally
low behavior. Worf endured the brief tirade, noting
that Call did not ask for anything. She merely seemed




to be venting about the damage that he, Worf, had
personally done to their trade agreements. He resisted
a twinge of guilt, regretting that it had not been more
immediately apparent that the Reaper was incapable
of inflicting damage to the Ceres. As they had with
most Sattar vessels, the Klingons had removed the
more advanced equipment, particularly weapons and
power systems.
    Cali's nostrils flared as she let out a final frustrated
exclamation, comparing him to a form of slime found
in the swamps of Qo'noS. On that note, the message
terminated.
  "Is there a problem, Commander?"
    Worf realized Sisko was standing on the upper deck
while the rest of the senior staff were watching him.
They had obviously heard the angry Sattar, so it was
necessary to give them an explanation. "It is not
important, sir. I believe one of the senior mates of the
Reaper has taken a personal dislike to me."
    'Tm certain you can handle it." Sisko rested both
hands on the console. "Now, if you could join us, we
have plenty of other problems to deal with."
    As Worf approached, he said, "Captain, there is an
urgent matter we nmst discuss."
    Sisko nodded permission, so Worfaccessed the data
for display on the main console. "Commander Dax
found this ion trail during her analysis of the storm. It
appears to be a small vessel. The shock waves pre-
vented my tactical sensors from detecting it."
 "Did you try to hail them?" Sisko asked.

    "No, sir. I believe they are attempting to hide."
Worfpaused, noting that Sisko was not impressed. "It
did not seem advisable to alert them that we are
aware of their presence."
    "But they could be damaged," Kira protested. "Or
maybe their sensors are jammed and they don't know
where they are."
    "Request permission to take the Defiant to investi-
gate." Sisko looked expectantly in Worf's direction.
"Sir," the Klingon added quickly.
    Sisko considered the starfield on the main viewer.
"I don't believe that's necessary. They're almost in
the system now." He turned to Kira. "Try hailing
them."
    "Aye, sir. We're having some trouble with commu-
nications, but they should get something..." She
concentrated over her touchpads as Worf fought back
his disappointment. Why was no one else concerned
about the Klingon's aggressive campaign? They often
talked of the possibility of Dominion infiltration, but
what had the Dominion done compared to the Kling-
on invasion of Cardassia?
 "I'm getting something on audio," Kira said.
    Through the static came the question, "DS9? Is
that..." then, "... in this sector. Location?"
    "Distortion is pretty bad," Kira admitted. "I'm
sending our coordinates and the storm warning via
the burst signal." After a moment she looked up. "It's
the Klingon yacht Katon, under Captain Alons of the
House of Napos."




    Worf's fist softly hit the edge of the console. Kling-
ons! He was right. Napos was a minor house, but one
that fully supported Gowron's policies, presumably
including the attack on Cardassia and the current
hostilities against the Federation.
    He returned to the tactical station. He had not been
ordered to power up weapons, but he was prepared
for anything.
    "The Katon has not altered course," he announced.
"However it has increased speed considerably."
    It took a moment for Kira to piece together a visual
communication. Though it was distorted by the elec-
tromagnetic interference, they could see Captain
Alons reclining back in the captain's chair. He was a
barrel-chested, older Klingon with a languorous,
sneering manner. As usual his brother, Sebas, hovered
nearby. Worf did not recognize the other young
Klingon who was grinning directly, insolently at him.
    Worf tried to ignore the other one as Alons offered
his greetings. "We weren't aware that we were in the
Bajoran Sector, Captain Sisko. Now that we have our
bearings we will be on our way."
    "We have issued an emergency docking alert due to
the storm," Sisko informed Alons. "The conditions
make it unsafe for navigation."
    "Thank you for your... concern." Alons cleared
his throat with a pointedly disgusting sound. "I assure
you that the Katon has gotten us through worse
storms than this."
 "You almost ran us over before you realized we

were here," Sisko reminded the Klingon. "You didn't
even know you were in the Bajoran Sector, much less
the system."
    Alons stretched his lips in imitation of a smile. "All
the more reason for us to leave."
    "I must insist that you dock at DS9," Sisko re-
peated. "For your own safety--"
    The young Klingon barked out a laugh, cutting him
off. "How can you listen to this pugh?" he demanded
to Alons. "When that shapeshifter stands beside him?
And I won't even mention that Denlb Qatlh!"
    Worf hardly flinched. He had heard it all before, the
first time he had accepted disgrace and expulsion
from the High Council. This stripling knew nothing of
his sacrifices for the Klingon Empire.
    "This is Ton," Alons briefly informed Sisko. "El-
dest son of the House of Maang."
    Sisko wasn't amused. "My officers are none of your
concern."
    "It only serves to show your lack of judgment!"
taunted Ton of Maang. "Only scum would stand by
O'web--"
    "Silence!" Alons ordered. "The House of Mogh is
no more."
    Ton showed his brown-stained teeth. "But the
Cybriss valley has flourished since the House of
Maang took over the farms. The name of Mogh has
been struck from every record, and the wine is all the
sweeter for our trouble."
 A growl of surprise rose in Worfs throat. He had




heard that Gowron had given away his family's lands
and holdings, but he had not been able to gather more
specific information. His brother Kurn had not an-
swered his messages for over a month. Worf could
dimly remember tales of his father's hunting lodge in
the Cybriss valley, and vaguely remembered a sum-
mer his family had spent there when he was young.
The thought of this hulking, slobbering idiot striding
across even one acre of the lands belonging to his
family's house...
    Worf snarled, oblivious to everything else. Even
through the broken image it was clear that Ton was
laughing at him, laughing at his loss.
    "Commander," Sisko said with a hint of warning in
his voice.
    The captain's quiet order reminded Worf of his
duty. With difficulty he broke eye contact with Ton,
nodding briefly to Sisko. He prepared the tractor
beams, intending to power up and lock on as soon as
the Katon was within range. Assuming they remained
on course. The Katon could easily gain a long lead
while the Defiant was prepared for departure. Worf
was counting on the fact that the Klingons were
unaware of the extensions he and Chief O'Brien had
added to the station's tractor beams. The addition
seemed like a prudent idea at the time, but he had not
anticipated that his foresight would be so quickly
rewarded.
    Worf signaled the main console that he was ready
with tractor beams, providing a countdown of when
the Katon would be in range.

    "Captain Alons, let's discuss this situation reason-
ably," Sisko requested.
    Alons shook his head. "There is no reasoning with
cowards!" He snapped an order to his helmsman.
    "The Katon is changing course," Worf informed
Sisko. "New heading two four seven, mark five point
one."
    "You can't simply fly through Bajoran space," Sisko
told Alons.
    "Why not?" Alons raised his hands, letting out loud
guffaws as Sebas and Ton joined in.
    Despite the change in course the Katon was curv-
ing into range. Worf was ready when the indicator
blinked, and at Sisko's nod he locked on to the
vessel.
    "All vessels in this sector must dock for the dura-
tion of the storm alert," Sisko politely informed them.
"That includes you."
    For a split second Alons was the perfect vision of
Klingon outrage. Then his image disappeared. The
main viewer showed the Katon swerving in the grip of
the tractor beams. Worfwas busy compensating as the
yacht attempted to form a warp field.
    "The Katon has cut off communications," Kira
announced. "No response."
    Worf refrained from reporting until he had the
situation under control. But he never doubted the
outcome for an instant. "We have the Katon, sir.
Tractors are holding."
 "Bring them into the main dock in lower pylon




one," Sisko ordered. "I want them as far away from
the habitat ring as possible."
    "You'll have to give me a minute to transfer some
ships around," Kira said quickly.
    "Understood," Worf confirmed. It would give him
time to conduct a thorough scan while the Katon was
trying to break free.
    But before he could calibrate the sensors to filter
out the distortion of the emission waves, the Katon
brought her engines to full stop. Only their shields
continued to hold at maximum power, impenetrable
to the station's sensors.
    "The Katon has powered down her engines," Worf
informed Sisko.
    The captain raised one brow. "Perhaps they've
decided to cooperate."
    "You can bring them in now, Commander," Kira
told him, adding, "Still no answer to our hails."
    Dax shrugged. "You can only expect so much
cooperation from Klingons these days."
    Odo crossed his arms, speaking up for the first time.
"That's certainly true."
     "Sir, I believe they do not want us to scan their
power systems," Worf said darkly. "Your reasoning?" Sisko asked.
    Worf automatically went to attention. "The Katon
could be the vessel responsible for the damage to the
Ceres."
  "That's an awfully small ship," O'Brien protested.
  But Odo shook his head. "I've seen even smaller

vessels do worse damage for the Resistance." Kira
smiled briefly in Odo's direction, agreeing, "That was
one of our best tricks--packing engines into hulls the
Cardassians wouldn't consider worth their trouble to
destroy."
    Worf shifted tractor control to the docking chief in
the lower pylon, but he maintained a secondary beam
on the Katon in case Alons tried to escape again.
"Sensors indicate the Katon conforms to standard
designs of the vessel's class. However, their shields are
superior to specifications, and they could be conceal-
ing auxiliary enhancement systems."
  "Suggestions?" Sisko asked.
    "Request permission to board the Katon," Worf
instantly replied. "An internal inspection will reveal
their weapons capability."
    Sisko considered Worf for a moment. "Granted."
He held up a quick finger. "But please, Commander,
try not to antagonize them. I won't let this incident
escalate into an open battle."
    "Aye, Captain," Worf acknowledged, checking his
console. "The Katon has docked. May I proceed?"
    Sisko gave him a wry smile. "Very well, Command-
er. Though you won't be able to convince me you
didn't plan this in order to get out of a briefing
session."
    "No, sir," Worf said, for lack of anything better to
say. But as he headed for the turbolift, he was relieved
that he wouldn't have to endure the endless minor
details of securing the station against the storm.




    As the turbolift descended, he grimly thought that it
was a good thing Starfleet Headquarters had the
foresight to post a Strategic Operations Officer to
DS9, if only to have someone whose main duty was
to protect the most valuable piece of territory within
a hundred light years.

    Captain Ari stood in front of a portal in the senior
mates' lounge of the Reaper, watching as the immense
tractors dragged the Klingon yacht the last few meters
to the docking pylon. Call entered and approached to
a discreet distance, waiting to be recognized.
    "Come see this, Call," Ari said graciously. He
enjoyed granting her permission to do things. It
pleasantly reminded him of the years when Cali's
mother had been the one ordering everyone about. "It
must be the ship Commander Worf was looking for."
    "We're lucky that Starfleet ship showed up in
time," Call commented, casting a disinterested eye on
the Katon. "I can't believe I insulted that Klingon to
his face and he still said he would grant our clearance
for departure."
    "Worf is an unusual Klingon," Ari said absently,
not really concerned with teaching Call the finer
points of character study. Her raw energy was far too
useful to blunt with systems of logical analysis.
"Did you send your message?" Ari asked her.
Call grinned. "I even called him a ghargh! I taped
it if you want to hear. I know I'm going to listen to it
again and again."

    "I'm sure it was a great pleasure for you," Ari
agreed. "Did you remember to point out his dishonor
in canceling our clearance without following proper
procedure?"
    "I wouldn't forget your part of the deal," she
protested in a wounded tone of voice. "I wish I could
do the whole thing over again. It's not every day you
get to insult a Klingon. Or spray plasma in his eyes?
    Ari ignored the senior mate's cackling and moved
on to more practical matters. "Now that we've gained
another day, our members must take care to secure a
good contract."
    "You should see the opportunities waiting out
there," Cali agreed.
    "Make sure it's a one-way contract, one that takes
us far from this sector." Ari thought that Starfleet's
treatment of the Klingon yacht was quite revealing.
When such a tiny ship rated an entire docking pylon,
you knew there were problems. "You stay away from
the Klingons. I'll put Shorci on that."
    "You think the Katon did it?" Call asked, looking
from the sleek yacht to the discolored hull of the
Ceres.
    "That doesn't concern you." Ari impatiently waved
Call off. He was tired of her. "Send everyone out
according to the deal roster. Cause minimal damage.
Make sure Theosi understands that."
    "As you will, Captain." Call bounced on her toes,
eager to get started. "To the members!" she pledged as
she left.





    Ari smiled to himselfi One day she might figure out
that the chains she struggled against were what actu-
ally bound her to the Collective. If she didn't die first,
at some point she would acquire that wisdom. All
Sattar did eventually, they simply required a firm
hand until then.

O

CHAPTER
        5

MOLLY WAS COLORING a tubba with her crayons when
Keiko went in to check on her. As she washed the
girl's tear-stained cheeks (all that was left of her
tantrum) Molly asked about her friend's tubba, the
Bajoran cat-like creature that belonged to one of the
other children of the survey scientists.
    "Tubba went on vacation, too," Keiko told her
daughter. She knew it was only a matter of time
before the subject of a pet came up. Keiko dreaded
that day. It was difficult enough living this gypsy life
with a child. How could she do it with a pet?
    Miles certainly wouldn't be much help. He could
hardly keep a house plant alive. If she hadn't put the
bonsai on an automatic drip, it would be dead by
now. She considered taking it back with her to Bajor,





but she had grown the damn tree for Miles in the first
place. The peat was in fair condition, but the shaggy
trunk and branches of the tiny cypress were going to
have to be brushed for days until the excess bark was
shed.
    Keiko knew she was obsessing again, so she tried to
put the bonsai out of her mind. She had no control
over anything else, why did she think she could train a
tree she hardly ever saw?
    She had just started reading Molly a story when the
computer finally beeped, announcing that her biomet-
ric analysis was completed. It was turning out to be a
complex problem for the lab to analyze the storm
data, so she had used some of the species models she
recently developed to do statistical comparisons of
unfamiliar Bajoran organisms.
    "Insufficient data," was flashing on the viewer.
Molly trailed after her with the book as Keiko sat
down. She keyed in an order to find correlations as
low as sixty percent. When that didn't work, she kept
lowering the percentage until she hit ten percent.
While the computer still didn't consider that to be
sufficient, it found several biological models that
could be loosely applied to the pattern of emission
waves from the plasma storm. There were even un-
mistakable signs of oscillations affecting one another
and responding to outside stimuli.
    Keiko felt a rush of elation that her efforts had
finally yielded some results, even if they were on the
modest side. Her analysis had sorted the data, but
there was barely enough information to make rudi-

mentary graphs of the plasma action. She needed
more data before she could set up an experimental
model, perhaps even incorporating the matrix of
electrodynamic fields within nebulas along with the
biological statistics.
    "Computer," she said out loud. "Where is Com-
mander Dax?"
 "Dax is currently in Ops."
    Keiko hesitated, then chided herself for doubting
the importance of her discovery. From everything she
had seen this afternoon, Dax was having a difficult
time predicting the reactions of this plasma storm.
  "Keiko O'Brien to Commander Dax."
    Dax acknowledged, though she sounded rather per-
plexed. "What can I do for you, Keiko?"
    "Actually I thought I might be able to help you,"
Keiko told her. "I've been running a biometric analy-
sis of the plasma storm and I thought you might be
interested in seeing the results."
    There was a distinct pause, and Keiko could only
imagine the dubious expression on Dax's face.
"We've already tried comparative analysis using eco-
system structures and hydrofluid reaction dynamics."
    "Yes, I know. But I've conducted a statistical sur-
vey, comparing the emissions to the EM matrix of an
individual organism."
    Dax sounded thoughtful. "I'd like to see what you
have. Can you meet me in the science lab on level
four?"
    "Give me a few minutes to settle things here,"
Keiko said, distracted by Molly. The girl was skipping




around the room, making noises as if she were riding
a horse.
    Keiko pulled a loose coverall over her unitard.
"Molly, I'm going to call Ensign Kij and have her
come over to sit with you for a while. That is, if she's
not on duty."
    The floor shifted to one side, and Keiko braced
herself aga/nst the chair. Molly went down on her
knees rather hard.
    "Are you okay?" she asked, almost holding her
breath. She didn't have time for anything dramatic.
    Molly gravely examined her reddened knees, brush-
ing the carpet fibers from her skin. She must have
decided it was nothing. "Kij left, Mommy."
    "She did?" Keiko stared at the girl. "How do you
know?"
    "I called her." Molly trotted over to point to the
touchpad. "With that button."
    "Good for you, Molly." She realized she shouldn't
be surprised at her daughter's resourcefulness. She
was learning how to take care of herself faster than
other children her age, but then again her life wasn't
exactly typical.
    Molly nodded solemnly. "The nice lady said Kij
left. Mommy, where is Wizen-on-Kost?"
    "Far, far away. Kij will be happy there," Keiko said
absently. Now how could she replace the kindhearted
ensign who used to watch over Molly? She thought
about that young Bajoran mother she had met at
Quark's, but Catrin was undoubtedly still working.
 Keiko had already realized she knew almost no one

on the station when she had been forced to leave
Molly alone in the holosuite. There wasn't anybody
here she would even consider a friend. It was ironic
that Molly had more people she wanted to call than
her mother did.
"Come on, Molly. We're going to the science lab."
"On Bajor?" Molly's expression said she wasn't
ready for another interplanetary journey.
    Keiko couldn't blame her. "No, the one here on the
station. Go get your bag." The bag was packed with
small games, story padds, and snacks, plenty to keep a
six-year-old busy whenever Keiko had to take her
somewhere. By the time she had left a message for
Miles in case he happened to return, Molly emerged
from her room with her jacket on and her bag firmly
over her shoulder.
    "You won't need your coat," Keiko reminded her.
"We're on the station, and it's always warm here."
    Molly thought about that until Keiko was ready to
give in and go help her take the jacket off. But she
slowly removed it, dropping it on the floor. "Mommy,
why is it always warm?"
    Keiko sighed, and as she ushered Molly from their
quarters, she tried to explain the life-support systems
of DS9 and planetary weather. Where was Miles when
she really needed him?

    Captain Sisko sighed as he ordered O'Brien to go
deal with the latest malfunction in the overloaded
replicator system. Kira and Odo were quietly talking
about something near her console, not paying any





attention. This briefing wasn't accomplishing much,
anyway. How can it when my senior staff is trickling
away one by one? he thought.
    "Captain?" Dax asked, starting to edge after
O'Brien. "I'd like to go hear what Keiko has found."
    Sisko glared at her without thinking, then apologet-
ically rubbed his eyes with one hand. He hadn't
realized how much he had been looking forward to
taking Kasidy out in the sailship until he couldn't.
"This has turned into some day off," he murmured to
himself.
 "I'm sorry, Benjamin," Dax told him.
    "It's not your fault." He straightened up. "Can't
you tell me anything concrete about the effect the
storm will have on the station?"
    "Not with the data we have to work with," Dax said
flatly. "This isn't the typical plasma storm blowing in
from the Badlands. This one came from beyond
Klingon territory, and it's moving faster than any
storm documented in Starfleet records."
    "You said that Dr. Bashir gave you his report on the
radiation poisoning among the Ceres crew. Surely
that can provide some clues to the composition of the
plasma field."
    "Plasma particles are notoriously hard to differen-
tiate." Dax reminded him. "The same sort of radia-
tion poisoning can be caused by different kinds of
particles and/or energy waves. We're only guessing
until we penetrate the blackbody mass itself."
    "Unless Keiko has come up with something," Sisko
said thoughtfully. "Sisko to Keiko O'Brien."

    There was a longer hesitation than usual, then a
flustered voice answered, "Yes, Captain?"
    "Would you please bring your analysis up to Ops?"
Sisko got Dax's nod as she moved to her science
console. Sometime in the past few hours O'Brien had
found time to repair it.
    Odo moved forward. "If the briefing is over, sir, I'd
like to get back to my post."
    "Certainly, Constable." Sisko managed a slight
smile. "I know a curfew might be the ideal solution,
but I'm afraid that's impossible in this situation.
However you may issue a public safety recommenda-
tion for everyone to stay in their quarters, either on
their ships or here on the station."
    Kira put in, "I've already advised the off-duty
service personnel to remain in their quarters."
"Do the same for Starfleet officers," Sisko ordered.
Odo nodded. Sisko noted that he looked grudgingly
pleased that his advice had been taken seriously, even
if it was not entirely implemented. The chief hesitated
as he started past the major, but Kira turned away to
tell Sisko, "Commander Worf has relayed a message
that the Klingons are refusing to open their airlock."
    Sisko gestured to Odo. "Constable, see if you can
assist Mister Worf. I don't want those Klingons to
come out fighting."
 "Understood, Captain."
    Dax grinned at Odo as he went to the turbolift.
"While you're at it, why don't you ask for their sensor
logs on the plasma storm? I bet the Katon got a good
look inside."




    Kira rolled her eyes. "As if the Klingons would ever
tell us."
    Dax agreed. "Worf will be lucky if he can convince
them to open the airlock."
    "Before we condemn them, let's first give them a
chance to cooperate," Sisko said lightly.
    Both Kira and Dax looked down at their consoles,
shamefaced. Sisko was determined to keep a check on
the paranoia among his senior staff. Assumptions
could inspire a deadly reaction in the current galactic-
political climate.
    He braced his chin in his hand, considering their
limited options. But his calculations of energy output
to shield intensity were lost as he started to wonder
what Jake was doing. Perhaps he should call and tell
Jake to stay inside tonight. Things were bound to get
wild with all the crews stranded on the station.
    "Let me know when Keiko arrives," he told Dax,
going into his office.
    He sat down and signaled his quarters, drumming
his fingers on the desk when Jake didn't answer.
"Computer, where is Jake?"
"Jake Sisko is in the habitat ring, level fifteen."
"Tell him to contact me in Ops." Sisko turned the
viewer to a better angle, waiting for Jake to answer via
the station's intercom.
    Jake was panting when he came on, and his face
bobbed out of the frame as he looked behind him.
"Just a minute!" he called to someone. 'Tll be right
there--"

 "Jake, what are you doing?" Sisko didn't want to
sound irritated, but he also didn't have time for this.
 "I'm hanging out with some friends." Jake seemed
 surprised he asked. "I told you earlier. I met these
 students from the University at Betazed and, boy, are
 they--" He paused to yell off screen, "All right, I'm
 coming!" He turned back to his dad. "They're a lot of
 fun."
    Jake had mentioned the Betazoids when Sisko
called to say he and Kasidy wouldn't be going out on
the sailship. The students had been en route to the
Gamma Quadrant to conduct an inter-species em-
pathic survey when the emergency alert had forced
their ship to dock at the station.
    "Jake, I think it would be best if you stayed home
tonight."
    "Why?" Jake's smile faltered. "What's wrong,
Dad?"
    "Nothing, except that the station is overcrowded,
and anything could happen."
    Jake leaned closer so the others couldn't hear.
"Think about what you just said, Dad. I'm not going
to stay home because 'anything could happen.'" He
widened his eyes in exasperation, then gave his dad a
reassuring grin. "I've got to go now. They're waiting
for me."
    Sisko nodded, trying to give in gracefully. He
couldn't squash Jake's excitement, not when he was
so pleased that the young adults had accepted him on
their own level.




    As the transmission terminated, Sisko was left
wondering what had prompted him to caution Jake
like that. Jake could take care of himselfi And if he
couldn't, then the station was the best place for him to
learn, while his father was nearby to lend a helping
hand if he needed it. Jake would be much more on his
own when he went to study on Earth.
    "Captain?" Dax called through the intercom.
"Keiko is here."
    Sisko noticed the changed dynamic in Ops as soon
as the door opened. Everyone was watching Keiko as
she bent over her little girl. Molly was laughing and
pointing up to something in the ceiling of Ops,
chattering brightly. The crew were smiling in re-
sponse, and for a moment, everyone was relaxed.
    That changed as soon as Sisko spoke. "Thank you
for coming, Keiko."
    She handed Molly the toy, straightening up. "Sorry
I had to bring her, Captain. I couldn't get a sitter."
    "That's quite all right." Sisko glanced down at
Molly. The girl put her finger in her mouth and stared
up at him, suddenly as solemn as his crew. "Welcome
back to the station, Molly."
    "Remember Captain Sisko, honey?" Keiko re-
minded her daughter.
 Molly nodded. "Can I ride the pony?"
    "First, let me speak to your mother for a moment."
Sisko turned back to Keiko. "I didn't know you were
interested in plasma physics."
 "I'm not." Keiko shifted her eyes from him to Dax.

"If this had been your basic hydrogen-complex plas-
ma storm, I wouldn't have spent all afternoon exam-
ining the emissions."
    Dax asked, "You said you ran the data against a
biometric model?"
    "Yes, because of the complexity of wave reactions.
Everything from rapid Doppler shifts and magneto-
optical effects, not to mention the wide number of
magnetic fields being produced."
    Dax was taking her seriously. "Come show me what
you've got."
    She moved over to make room for Keiko at the
science station. Keiko input her data clip and concen-
trated on the program display. "The best match was
against a plankton biomodel."
 "Plankton?" Sisko repeated doubtfully.
    "Yes, you know, algae, bacteria, ph54am, and non-
motile organisms that float in water."
    "I know what plankton is," Sisko told her. "But
what does plankton have in common with plasma?"
    "Well, nothing, really," Keiko admitted. "That's
why biometric analysis works when you don't have
much data. It's used to compare organisms of differ-
ent species, even plants and animals. My analysis
indicates that the biometric behavior of plankton fits
some of the same statistical curves as the sensor
readings of the plasma storm."
    Sisko thought Dax's reaction was revealing. "I've
never heard of anyone trying that."
 "I only found a ten percent correlation," Keiko




 quickly pointed out. "What I need is more informa-
 tion on the internal conditions, the particle content,
 and rates of energy fluctuation."
    Dax shook her head. "We've sent in probes, but we
aren't receiving telemetry from within the black-
body." She gestured to one spiked pattern. "I've
studied biometric analysis before, but the way these
coefficients are graphed is confusing. Is that curve the
response to external stimulation?"
    "Yes, you can see some of the structured continu-
um, relating the past behavior to future reactions.
That's movement." Keiko pointed to the indicators
on the graph overlay. "I'd say it's changed course
sometime during the past six hours."
    Dax looked up at Sisko. "Her trajectory confirms it.
The storm has been drawn off course by the worm-
hole."
    Sisko looked back at Keiko. "What effect do you
think the storm will have on the station?"
    She was taken aback. "I don't know, sir. We need
more data on the internal conditions, but once we
have that, we could use the biometric models to break
it down mathematically. Then the variables, such as
phase lengths and radiation dynamics, could be pre-
dicted."
    "O'Brien could use that information to adjust the
shields for maximum coverage," Dax agreed. "Also, if
we took a runabout inside, we'd be able to test the
turbulence of the magneto-hydrodynamic systems in-
side the storm. That would help us shape the structur-

al integrity field to protect the areas of the hull that
would incur maximum stress."
    "Very well," Sisko finally agreed. "But if you must
go into the storm for your tests, why not use the
Defiant?"
    Dax pursed her lips in thought. "I'm not sure I can
create an electrostatic field around something as big
as the Defiant. And the runabout has much shorter
shield harmonics, creating less mass interference
within the waves. We need to distort our readings as
little as possible."
    "Of course. Then a runabout it is," Sisko agreed.
"Use the Rubicon--have O'Brien help you with the
alterations to the shields. That's a priority." He
glanced at Keiko, who was whispering to Molly to
wait just a minute more. Sisko tried not to think
about Jake. "And Dax, take an experienced pilot with
you. You'll need the help."
    "Captain?" Keiko asked, still holding Molly's
hand. "I'd like to go with Dax. There are a number of
special techniques for sampling and identification
when you're using biometric models." She must have
seen his hesitation, because she quickly added, "I'm
also fully qualified to pilot a runabout."
    Sisko tried to soften his refusal. "I'm sorry, but I
can't allow noncommissioned personnel to go into
such a dangerous situation."
    "But I'm a member of the survey team to Bajor,
technically a member of Starfleet." Keiko ignored the
pleading of Molly who was pulling on her hand for




attention. "You won't find another scientist on this
station with more knowledge of biometric analysis.
And I'm already familiar with the plasma storm."
    Sisko leaned over and tapped the access code that
had appeared along with Keiko's data. "Yes, I see you
that you are. I didn't mention how you acquired your
data, but now that you bring it up, what will Chief
O'Brien say to your going?"
  Keiko gave him a look without batting an eye.
    Sisko had never been so smoothly corrected. He
turned to Dax. "What do you think, Commander?"
    Dax tensed, recognizing a critical situation. "I
could use Keiko's help," she admitted. "Biophysics
isn't my strongest suit."
    Molly was still tugging on Keiko's hand, her voice
rising as she asked to see the console "where Daddy
worked."
  "What about Molly?" Sisko asked in a low voice.
  "I'm doing this for Molly," Keiko replied.
    "But who will take care of her? You said you
couldn't find anyone."
    Keiko's expression was pinched, as if she didn't
want to discuss it. "I can leave her with the holonanny
until Miles is done with work."
    "Very well," he agreed. 'Tll pass an order along to
Quark to make one of his holosuites available for
you."
"Thank you, Captain." But Keiko didn't smile.
Sisko returned to his office, feeling as if he had
handled that rather badly. He had never questioned
any other crew member's ability to go on a mission

because of a lack of a sitter. Then again, Keiko was
not a member of his crew.
    Yet she was his responsibility because she was on
DS9. Just like Kasidy...
    He realized that it was Kasidy who was doing this
to him. He was acting like a mother hen because of
her. While he was handing out warnings to everyone
else, what he really wanted to do was call Kasidy and
make sure she was okay. But things had been tricky
for them the past couple of weeks since she had
moved to the station. He was being careful not to
make any more assumptions, never forgetting that
one time when it had almost ended their relationship.
    Besides, Kasidy had made it very clear that she
could take care of herself. She was probably in one of
the cargo bays, assisting in setting up temporary
housing. They had already spoken once today, so why
did he have such a strong urge to call her, to see her
face, to tell her he was thinking about her...
    "Captain Sisko?" Kira asked over the intercom.
"We have the captain of that sightseeing liner. He's
protesting the fact that he can't close his aifiock to
keep the passengers out."
    "Put it through," Sisko sighed. As usual, work
called him away from Kasidy.




0

CHAPTER
       6

WORF TOLD HIMSELF to be patient as Odo repeated into
the comm, "All vessels that dock at DS9 must be
inspected. According to section eight, article fourre"
    "We did not ask to dock here," Sebas interrupted.
"You dragged us to this He'So~Igh!"
    "There is an emergency storm alert in effect," Odo
calmly replied. "If the Katon does not comply with
our regulations, we will be forced to notify the Kling-
on authorities."
    "Ha!" the Klingon spat. "The High Council will
hear of this, of that you can be sure!"
    Standing behind Odo, Worf folded his arms across
his chest, having resolved to remain silent until the
security chief exhausted the diplomatic and regulato-
ry methods of extracting the Klingons from the

Katon. Worf was pleased that he was not forced to
perform this charade, though it probably would have
ended much sooner had it been up to him.
    Sebas was apparently enjoying sparring with Odo,
though in Worf's opinion, the younger son of the
House of Napos wasn't very quick with his retorts.
Worf yawned broadly, a sign of contempt that he
allowed Sebas to see.
    The Klingon's hands clenched. "I will not speak
with Chap'on?
 "You just did," Worf pointed out.
 Sebas reached out as if to cut the transmission.
    Worf warned him, "Perhaps you will change your
mind when a laser welder cuts through your hull."
    "You would not dare," Sebas sneered. "Not the
warrior who runs from battle!"
    Worf stared at him without moving a muscle. Sebas
hesitated and Worf slightly bared his teeth at the
novice.
    "Please, gentlemen," Odo interrupted. "We can be
civil with one another. If you and your captain will
join us on the station, we can discuss this matterm"
    "Enough talk!" Sebas held up a thick finger, the
combat wristband shining a warning. "The Katon will
wait out the storm, then we continue on our way." He
snarled as if his words were final. He was young and
arrogant, secure in his House and his father's alliance
with Gowron. Worf almost envied the young upstart.
    Odo glanced over his shoulder as the transmission
ended. "So much for that. A waste of time, if you ask
me."




  Worf settled for saying, "I agree."
     "Did you get anything with the point-blank scans?"
 Odo asked.
     "Nothing unusual. However, essential systems are
 off line." He shook his head at the report from the
 security pods. "Some of the readings are distorted,
 perhaps indicating localized shielding."
    Odo examined the data. "That could be caused by
the emission waves."
    Woff frowned. "I have not ruled out that possi-
bility."
      "You don't have enough here to convince Sisko that
forced entry is necessary," Odo pointed out.  "I am aware of that fact."
    Odo glanced toward the airlock. "On the other
hand, Bajoran regulations give me some latitude with
regard to the methods that constitute forced entry.
Perhaps we can use a remote manipulator to trigger
the automatic opening sequence of their airlock."
Worf was unsettled. "You have done this before?"
Odo gave him a hard look. "When the alternative is
letting a Cardassian crew explode a Bajoran Resist-
ance smuggler, you learn how to bypass automatic
systems."
"I see. Of course, I welcome your assistance."
Odo inclined his head. 'Tll call for the equipment."
"Commander Worf?" One of the security guards
was motioning to a Starfleet officer waiting near the
turbolift. "It's Captain Iis of the Ceres, here to see
you."
 Ils came forward without waiting for Worf's per-

mission, slowly approaching the viewport showing
the Katon. She was looking much better, as if she had
washed, rested, and eaten. Now Worf could see that
she moved with the grace of a lifelong athlete. As with
many older humans, her face had fallen into comfort-
able, serene lines, and she defied vanity with her
close-cropped silver hair.
 Ils turned to Worf. "Is this the ship that attacked
US?"
    "We have insufficient data on their weapons sys-
tems," Worf reluctantly informed her. "They will not
open the airlock."
    Iis kept her eyes on the Katon. "I tried to speak to
the lieutenant about what she might have seen, but
she couldn't understand me. Dr. Bashir says she'll
have to be sent back to Andoria for intensive brain
treatment."
    Worf was unsure if she was making a deliberate
effort to suppress her emotions, or if the doctor had
given her a sedative. Probably the latter.
"I will discover the truth," Worf told the captain.
"Ah, yes, the truth." She kept staring through the
viewport. "Please tell me when you do. I'm sure there
are plenty of people who want to know the truth."
    Worf decided to stick with the safest answer. "Yes,
sir."
    Captain Iis looked at him intently. "Thank you for
being so valiant, Commander. I do want to know if
this ship was responsible. Yet even if it was, does that
explain why this happened?"
  "The Klingons have broken the peace treaty with




the Federation," Worf declared. "That is reason
enough for them to attack a Starfleet vessel."
      "Then you believe the Klingon Empire is prepared
to engage us in a full-scale war?"  "Yes."
    Iis sighed, her hands lightly clasped in front of her,
watching as Odo opened the panel to the locking
terminals. "Why?"
    Worf began to list the statistical increases in Kling-
on traffic and weapons manufacture, when Iis cut him
off. "What I meant is, why will the Klingons fight us?
They've got more territory than they can possibly
handle right now, and they're stretched to the limit
with the Cardassians. What do they hope to gain by
fighting Starfleet?"
    Worf briefly clenched his jaw. "Klingons want to
live as warriors."
    "So you're saying it's part of their character to
make war," Iis said thoughtfully. Then she almost
smiled. "I've never believed in theories of species-
determined behavior. If I did, then I would have to
believe that you, Commander, were as ruthlessly
violent as these Klingons appear to be. And I would
have to believe that your security chief," she added,
nodding to Odo, "is a devious shapeshifter intent on
the genocide of all humanoid lifeforms."
    Worf exchanged a look with Odo, wondering if the
chief felt as exposed as he did. He also remembered
Cali's taunt that Klingons were all alike, then tried to
put it from his mind.
 "No, Commander Worf," Iis finished with a sad

smile. "I don't believe in blaming genetics. We must
examine our own actions to determine how we
reached this terrible impasse with people who were
once our friends."
    "Perhaps," Worf felt compelled to agree. "Yet the
hostilities appear to be escalating. We can only pro-
tect ourselves."
    Iis shrugged as if she was too weary to argue the
philosophy of peace. Meanwhile Odo's security team
arrived, and the chief moved to the airlock, much to
his apparent relief.
    Worf knew he couldn't fight his own personal
demons with the captain. "I have arranged living
quarters for you," he offered by way of apology.
"Starfleet personnel have volunteered to share their
quarters with your crew for the duration of the
storm."
"Thank you, Commander. That is most kind."
Worf glanced over at Odo, but the amount of
equipment the team was unpacking revealed that it
would be a while before any progress was made with
the remote manipulators. "Allow me to escort you to
Commander Dax's quarters. She recently departed to
investigate the storm."
    "No. Give the quarters to my wounded so they can
leave the infirmary. I've ordered my senior staff to
remain on board the Ceres during the repairs." She
shook her head at his protest. "I know we may have to
close decks, but I'd like to make every effort not to
abandon ship. That is a matter of pride to my crew."




Worf admired the sentiment. "Very well, Captain."
Captain Iis was starting to leave when the red alert
klaxons went off. Her alarm indicated that she was
stretched to nearly the breaking point. Worf immedi-
ately accessed Ops.
    "Commander!" Kira exclaimed as if relieved to see
him. "We have a problem at dock eight. Those two
freighters that are tethered to the passenger liner--
we're losing one of them."
  "On viewscreen," Worf ordered.
    A cross view image appeared of a bulbous passen-
ger liner, its slender nose tucked into the docking ring.
The transport freighter next to it was moving, swing-
ing away from the liner toward the docking ring. As it
collided with the hull, he could feel the impact vibrate
down the docking pylon.
  "Tractors--" he started to say.
  "Wrong angle! The docking ring is in the way."
    "Prepare a runabout for emergency takeoff," Worf
ordered.
    "You can put a tractor on it from out there," Kira
agreed, keying in the command to prepare the run-
about. "Pad two will be ready when you get there.
O'Brien is trying to secure the freighter from inside
the docking ring."
    Odo approached the console. 'TI1 assist Chief
O'Brien. It will take some time to get through the
shielding of the Katon's hull."
    Worf nodded, casting a longing look at the portal.
"Keep me informed."

    Kira's impatience was clear. "If that freighter
breaks loose, it could hit the habitat ring--"
    "On my way," Worf acknowledged. He didn't need
anyone to remind him of his duty.

    Cali crouched against the curving side of the main-
tenance corridor, prepared to slip under the narrow
service crawlway if the technicians climbed to her
level. But the scraping sounds continued past in a
starboard direction toward the section where most of
the work was being done to secure the Bajoran
freighter.
    She was the last of her team to leave the area, and
she had been cut off when she turned back to reacti-
vate the security sensors in the maintenance access
junction. There would always be talk of possible
sabotage, but she preferred to leave no evidence
behind. Not when her members were in place, ready
to take over the contract from the damaged freighter.
That had been the trick--cutting one of the stasis
lines during a shock wave so the freighter would snap
like a whip. From the double impact, she figured the
port warp nacelle had been crushed.
    Now she needed to get out of this section before she
was discovered.
    "It shouldn't be long now." The male voice echoed
strangely through the corridor. "WorPs holding it
steady with the tractors."
    Cali had heard that voice ever since her members
had severed the stasis line. The technical response




had been much faster than they had expected, yet she
was the only one who hadn't gotten out in time. And
she didn't intend to let these bumbling techies beat
her at her own game.
    "I see you're using your ingenuity, Mister O'Brien.
I've never heard of a ship being secured in quite this
manner," another voice commented.
    Her hair rose in prickles up her spine as she
recognized that voice. Odo, chief of security. The
nosy shapechanger who had locked her in the brig for
no good reason.
    Still, she had been working on Captain Ali's deal,
agitating the Klingon Commander, so she had been
well compensated. And that hour in the brig had paid
off with the lead on this sweet deal. One of her cell
mates had been the purser of the now-damaged
freighter, and he had barely needed any coaxing to
give her the details of their next run. And blimenny,
was it a creampuffl. Carrying raw bulk chemicals to
the Rw'arez Sector. You couldn't get much further
away from the wormhole in one straight run, and
from there they could go almost anywhere.
    "We're still assessing the damage to the docking
ring," O'Brien was saying. "I'm going to have some-
one check the main supports in this section. But from
the looks of things, the freighter got the worst of it."
      "Tell me, Chief," Odo said seriously. "Have you
ever seen a stasis line snap like that?"
  "No, can't say that I have."
  Cali held her breath.
  "Neither have I," Odo agreed.

O'Brien sounded concerned. "What did you find on
the passenger liner?"
    "No one noticed anything unusual before or during
the time the stasis broke," Odo admitted. "And there
are no internal sensor logs."
    Cali was leaning so far forward that she risked
being seen through the open hatchway.
    "You're the detective," O'Brien tossed off. "But I
think anything's possible when there's this much
turbulence. Stasis lines do have tolerance limits. And
Major Kira says that a few vessels are reporting
problems with their airlock seals."
"Hmmm... perhaps you're right," Odo conceded.
Cali sat back grinning to herself.
"Now that you bring it up, I am worried about the
other ships that are tethered by stasis lines," O'Brien
added. "There were seven people injured inside the
freighter, and they were lucky they all weren't killed.
We're adding more lines to the other ships, but who
knows what could happen once the storm hits."
    "Perhaps we should recommend that the ships be
evacuated."
    "Some of them are docked safely," O'Brien pro-
tested, "but we probably should warn the vessels that
are at higher risk. After all, you don't want to flood
the station with a complete evacuation..."
    Cali strained to hear as the voices faded. "We might
have to find a way," Odo was saying. "If that storm is
as bad as they..."
    Cali listened for a moment longer, then took a
chance and slipped down the ladder, dropping into a




crouch in the main corridor of the docking ring.
Looking both ways, she stayed low as she ran in the
opposite direction from Odo and O'Brien.
    After the overwhelming response of the repair
crews, Call was expecting it to be a reat challenge to
get out of the section. But she easily ran the security
blockade, hardly needing the help of Theosi, who was
loyally positioned nearby. The diversion required that
only one of their members was detected by security,
and he was released with a slap on the wrist.
    Cali deployed her members ahead and behind,
running tandem with Theosi through the docking
ring. After all the deals she had pulled, there were
probably a dozen unofficial contracts out on her, and
any one of these stranded crew members could be
looking for just that sort of latinum. She would have
preferred to move through the service tunnels, but
that was one thing the shapeshifter was good at--you
could get in, but you couldn't travel between the
sections. Then again, it made sense for them to lock
the station down fairly tight. They were sitting on top
of the wormhole, like a nice, big, fat target. At least,
that's how Captain Ari put it.
    At the airlock to the Reaper, Cali got word that her
negotiation team had signed the contract for the
chemical transport. She was pleased. This deal had
gone smoothly from start to finish.
    She was allowed into the captain's lounge without
being announced. Not every senior mate could claim
that privilege.
  Despite her excitement, Cali slowed as she entered,

according the place the reverence it deserved. There
was nothing Klingon about the captain's lounge, with
its rounded walls and clear blue lighting--even the
smell of polllowers on a warm afternoon.
    Ari stayed seated, folding his data clip. He peered
up at her for a moment, then smiled. "So you've done
it again?"
    Cali answered with a laugh. "It worked exactly as I
planned."
    Ari's expression was both admiring and pleased,
without a trace of surprise, as if Cali's success was
nothing more than he expected. The other seniors
sometimes tried to advise her in her methods, as if
any of them had completed a fraction of her deals!
But Ari seldom presumed to offer advice. She had her
high position among the crew partly because it was
her inheritance, but also because the captain recog-
nized her abilities. Ari encouraged her to push herself,
agreeing that it was not her fault she was not talented
at the administrative details of the vessel. But what
did that matter, when her brilliant deals were begin-
ning to be talked about among the other members of
the Sattar Collective?
    "Name your bonus," Ari told her. "With a contract
this large, I presume you want a tithe."
    Cali shook her head. "I'll take an option on a deal
of my own."
    Ari was immediately intrigued. "Do you have any-
thing in mind?"
    "Not yet, but there's plenty of action around here.
We'll leave the terms open."




 "Short-term option," Ari countered.
    Cali shrugged. If she couldn't find anything of her
own before they left then she didn't deserve a longer
option. "Now I have a bonus for you," she told her
captain. "I heard the chief of operations talking about
the freighter. They believe it broke loose in the storm.
We'll probably get a warning to evacuate our ship."
    "Under galactic shipping codes, only the captain
can order the evacuation of his crew. That is, unless
the ship is improperly docked."
    "Well, that's what they said," Call insisted. "You
know Starfleet. Out to save the galaxy from itself."
    Ari pushed himself from the anti-grav chair and
paced to the port window, considering the informa-
tion. "Even if it's only a recommendation, it may be
enough..."
    Cali caught the scent of a deal in the air. She eagerly
watched the captain, waiting for him to indicate
whether he would ask her to join.
    When Ari turned, she knew the news would be
good.
    "I think it's time we visited Commander Worf," Ari
told her. "He has a debt of honor to repay to the
Sattar Collective."

0

CHAPTER
        7

DAX BELIEVED THAT one of the best ways to get to know
somebody was to go on a long shuttle trip with them.
She had figured that out while she was a cadet at
Starfleet Academy, where she had been introduced to
the concept of the two-person team.
    During the past few months, since she had resolved
things with Curzon, she was better able to appreciate
the fact that she had attended the academy simply as
Jadzia. After being kicked out of the Symbiont Insti-
tute on Trill, where the focus had been on generating
competition among the initiates, it was a joy learning
how to cooperate with others.
    "Nearing the storm front at ten thousand kilome-
ters," Dax announced. "How bad is that graviton
interference?"




    "It's holding steady now that the bleed has been
boosted," Keiko confirmed.
    Dax could already tell that Keiko was an competent
technician, their first flurry of stabilizer adjustments
had proved that, and her meticulous handling of Ops
indicated that she was a perfectionist. But Keiko
herself was still a mystery, not only to Dax but to a lot
of people on DS9. Maybe even to Chief O'Brien.
    "Leeta says you're going to be on the survey for
another few months," Dax commented. "How is it
going?"
    "Oh, we're making progress." When Dax made it
clear she was waiting for more, Keiko added, "Actu-
ally we're working so well together that Starfleet
expanded the survey to include the archipelago of the
southern continent. We're finding some rich calcium-
complex vegetation that grows in the wet climate
along the coast."
  "So you like being on Bajor."
     Keiko smiled at the non-question. "It's tough mov-
 ing around with the survey team, never in the same
 place for more than a few weeks. But the work itself is
 fascinating." Then she sighed. "I guess you can't have
 everything..."
  "Why not?" Dax asked.
     Keiko looked at her. "For one thing, it's physically
 impossible to be on the station and Bajor at the same
 time."
     Dax concentrated on the helm, letting Keiko's
 answer fall lightly into silence. She sympathized with
 Keiko's dilemma.

"Was Molly all right when you left her?" Dax
asked.
    "She'll be fine." Keiko acted as if leaving her was
perfectly natural, though Dax knew that mother and
daughter were seldom apart. "I activated the pony
program, even though I swore I'd make her wait until
tomorrow." She checked the chronometer. "It'll be
over soon, and then the nanny program can deal with
her. Miles doesn't know how lucky he is."
    "He didn't look so happy standing on the service
pad."
    Keiko shrugged. "You have to admit it happened
awfully fast. He was surprised, that's all."
    Dax grinned. "I'd say it was fast! He was still trying
to ask about radiation levels when you shut the hatch
in his face."
    Keiko looked uncomfortable, as if her mask had
slipped. Dax remembered the way she had stared at
the image of O'Brien on the viewscreen as the Rubi-
con rose to the launch padd. The chief kept waving
until they were out of sight. Only then had Keiko
taken a deep breath and returned to the launch
sequence.
    "I wonder how they're doing with that freighter,"
Keiko said.
    Dax checked the station logs. "It's been secured.
But Captain Sisko has issued an evacuation recom-
mendation to all vessels below class two, due to the
turbulence."
    Keiko's eyes widened. "I thought there were no
more quarters available on the station."




    "There aren't." Dax frowned over the sensor data,
as the runabout shook from the emission waves. "If
the shock waves are this bad out here, what about the
turbulence within the storm?"
    Keiko glanced at the viewscreen. The pure, velvety
black mass blocked out most of the starfield, but the
leading edge was defined by veins of flashing energy
discharge, marking the point where the plasma en-
countered normal space matter.
    "Slowing to half impulse," Dax said. "The shock
waves are getting stronger."
    "Sensors are calibrated," Keiko confirmed. "The
link to the biometric program is engaged. We're
getting additional data on a wide range of Doppler
shifts."
     Dax prepared a burst transmission to send the new
 data back to the station. Communications would
 probably be lost once they were inside the storm.
     "This close," Dax said thoughtfully. "I thought we
 would encounter line and recombination radiation.
 Even with a reflection level as low as one percent we
 should be getting something on the interior of the
 storm."
     "There are those energy discharges along the edge,"
 Keiko indicated. "The filaments are being spectrally
 recorded, but we have no background comparison
 with the main body of the plasma mass."
     "So we can't tell if particles are being excited or
 emitted."
 "It's an ideal blackbody," Keiko agreed. "Rates of

absorption and emission are the same. I wonder
what's happening inside."
    "My guess is that it's rotating on its own axis," Dax
told her.
    Keiko widened her eyes. "I didn't think plasma did
that in a natural vacuum."
    "Why else can't we get a fix on the wavelength
angles?" Dax had finally thrown out Planck's law after
wrestling with that impossible variable for most of the
afternoon, trying to phase the momentum with value
of energy release. "This isn't getting us anywhere. The
spectroscopic analysis is giving us the same readings
on the emissions that we got on the station: helium,
carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, sulfur, calcium."
    "It's the bulk of the interior elements we need to
determine," Keiko agreed.
    "All right, here we go," Dax announced. "Electro-
static field engaged."
    "Spectral index is well within parameters," Keiko
confirmed. "Both waves and particles are being pola-
rized away from the runabout."
 "Prepare to enter the plasma field."
    Dax maneuvered the runabout in a vector that
would sharply intersect the edge of the storm. She
didn't want to risk deflection, unsure what effect that
impact would have on the hull. She was also con-
cerned about what might be concealed within the
plasma. An ideal blackbody was theoretically impos-
sible without a source of stabilized electric discharge.
There was a distinct possibility that a comet-like




pulsar or neutron star was at the heart of the storm,
and if so, then the gravitational forces could easily
overpower the runabout once they entered.
    Dax glanced at Keiko, wondering if she should
share that nasty piece of information. She had in-
cluded it in the burst transmission to DS9 because the
station needed to be warned of the possibility. But it
was too late for them to turn back now.
    "Sensors at maximum sensitivity," Keiko an-
nounced. "Prepared for entry."
    "You know," Dax said, "there is a chance the hull
could be crushed by the internal turbulence."
    Keiko held her gaze. "If the storm is that strong,
then the station won't be able to withstand the
pressure either. We need to find out."
     "You're right about that. I'm taking us in." Dax hit
 the thrusters and held on.
     But the runabout penetrated the storm without a
 shudder. Helm control remained steady, while navi-
 gational orientation began to swing aimlessly around
 the chart, as if searc