War Stories: Book One Page 5

  “I ought to haul you up on charges right now, DaiMon.”

  “In which court, Commander?” Bikk stood up. “I see no reason to listen to this. Mr. Mark, I was under the impression that a serious business offer was being made.”

  “It is,” Anthony said with a glare at his CO. “We’re looking for a complete linguistic database of all the Dominion member races.”

  Bikk threw his bulbous head back and laughed before sitting back down. “And what makes you think I have such a thing?”

  “Because you’re you, Bikk. Because you lived in the Gamma Quadrant for a year making huge profits—yet your personal bank balance when you left was almost exactly the same as when you arrived. To me, that means that you spent your profits. And again, because you’re you, you probably spent that money on amassing information that you could sell on this side of the wormhole.”

  Face darkening, voice deepening, Bikk asked slowly, “How did you learn what my personal bank balance was?”

  Anthony just grinned in response. Bart had to hold back a grin of his own. Starfleet Intelligence had impressive resources when they put their minds to it, and a Ferengi who lived in the Gamma Quadrant for a year was definitely going to be a very large reading on SI’s sensors.

  “Never you mind how we got it,” DuVall said quickly. “The point is, we know what you’ve been up to, DaiMon.”

  Realizing that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer, Bikk leaned back in his chair. “Assuming I have such esoteric information, what would you be prepared to offer me in exchange for it?”

  Anthony leaned forward. “You’re familiar with the Breen energy-draining weapon, yes?”

  “Of course. And only the Klingons can defend against it, which is, by the way, a sad commentary on the state of this little war you’re fighting. You’d have been better off entering a trade agreement like we did.”

  “We’re not profiteers, mister,” DuVall said.

  Bikk shrugged. “Your loss, our gain.”

  “Your gain, anyhow.” Anthony smiled. “We’re developing a countermeasure against the Breen weapon. You can have access to all our research—”

  “As if I’d need it. We’re not at war, Mr. Mark.”

  “—and to the method for countering the weapon once we have it.” Anthony continued as if the Ferengi hadn’t spoken.

  DuVall stood up and fixed a furious gaze on his adjutant. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Without looking at DuVall, Anthony said, “Starfleet Command has already signed off on this, sir.”

  “Dammit, we shouldn’t be giving these big-eared cretins access to our military secrets.”

  Bikk smiled that unctuous smile again. “Your commander has a point. Besides—”

  “Don’t kid yourself into thinking that the Dominion will stop with the allies. If we lose this war, Ferengi independence won’t be long for this galaxy. And you never know when you might need a defense against a Breen ship.”

  A pudgy hand ran thoughtfully over the edge of Bikk’s right ear. “Perhaps.” He stood up. “I will consult my copious files and see what I can provide.”

  As soon as the Ferengi left, Anthony let out a long breath. “That went better than expected.”

  “Yup.”

  Bart turned to look at Commander DuVall and was shocked to see that the station commander was smiling. It was a sight Bart hadn’t seen in his month on the starbase and found it more than a little disconcerting.

  “Good work, Mr. Mark,” DuVall continued. “I think we’ve baited this particular fish lock, stock, and barrel.”

  Wincing at the mixed metaphor, Bart said, “You mean to say—”

  “Yes, it was an act, Mr. Faulwell. You don’t really think Mr. Mark here would go over my head like that, do you?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Bart said dryly.

  Anthony chuckled. “Bikk likes the idea of being the cause of some kind of rift between Starfleet officers. Especially if I’m one of them. He and I have—well, a history. That’s how I know he’s got what we need. He’s an information pusher, and this is exactly the sort of thing he’d have access to.”

  “I just hope it pans out. We’re still taking a stab in the dark with this whole idea. It could wind up being nothing.” Bart let out a long breath. “I’d hate for us to give away important military stuff for nothing.”

  DuVall shrugged. “It’s not like we wouldn’t have shared the data with the Ferengi if they asked.”

  “But they wouldn’t ask,” Anthony added. “They’d assume they’d have to pay for it. So we might as well oblige them.”

  “Well, good work,” Bart said with a grin.

  “Glad we have your approval, Mr. Faulwell,” DuVall said snidely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. There’s a war on, you know.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Bart said with a straight face.

  DuVall ignored the crack and left the wardroom, leaving Anthony and Bart alone.

  “So, what say we celebrate tonight?” Anthony said. “Maybe do dinner in my quarters instead of at the restaurant?”

  Bart grinned. “Works for me.”

  DaiMon Bikk returned the following day with a complete linguistic database of Gamma Quadrant aliens known to the Dominion—and known to nonaffiliated people such as the Dosai and the Wadi—and Anthony provided him with all the data from Starfleet Headquarters on their progress in combatting the Breen weapon, with the promise of more to come. The morning’s dispatches had told of a Jem’Hadar ship outfitted with the energy-dampening weapon that had been captured by rebel Cardassians and brought to Deep Space 9. Studying the weapon itself would no doubt provide the breakthrough needed. Bikk seemed very pleased with this news, though he was not as thrilled with this transaction as Bart might have expected.

  “He’s just cranky because we were able to learn his personal bank balance,” Anthony said in bed that night when Bart broached the subject. “That’s the functional equivalent of peeking into his bedroom. But he’ll get over it.”

  A day later, Bart sat in the starbase lounge drinking a cup of coffee, rereading an old Van Der Weir, and lamenting the starbase’s inability to do a proper French roast, when his combadge sounded with the papery voice of Janíce Kerasus, newly released from the infirmary. “Bartholomew, you need to come to the lab right now.”

  Tapping his combadge, Bart said, “What is it, Janíce?”

  “Paydirt.”

  Grinning, Bart left his coffee unfinished and went straight for the lab, where the rest of the team was waiting.

  “We’ve found our Navajo,” Kerasus said as soon as the doors closed behind Bart. “It even follows the same pattern.”

  Bart frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a small tribe of aboriginal types on the Karemma homeworld. They live on a small island in the middle of one of their oceans. They don’t care about technology, or—” Kerasus interrupted herself with a coughing fit.

  Novac took over as Kerasus reached into her tunic to retrieve her medication. “They have a ridiculously complex language. The UT can’t make heads or tails of it, but it’s a perfect match for the new codes. All we’ve got to do is build a translation matrix.”

  “All we’ve got to do?” Phrebington said irritably. “The universal translator insists that it’s random noise. I’m not completely convinced that it isn’t random noise and that Ferengi cheated us.”

  “Even the UT isn’t perfect,” Throckmorton said. “Hell, it sometimes still has problems with the Klingon language.”

  Phrebington made a disparaging noise. “That’s not evidence of anything. The Klingon language really is random noise—”

  “Let’s get to it, people,” Bart said quickly before another argument erupted.

  He and Anthony exchanged a quick glance. Finally, it looked like they were on the right track.

  Androssi Vessel Overseen by Biron

  STARDATE 53678.5

  According to the remainder of t
he logs the Yridian provided, Faulwell’s team was able to build a translation matrix for the language and decode the Dominion transmissions. It required manually adding a subroutine to all universal translator devices, which struck Biron as inefficient. Androssi computers were equipped with dimensional enhancers to allow such upgrades to be performed instantaneously on all equipment. Yet another way in which the Federation is demonstrably inferior to us.

  It made Biron’s defeats all the more galling.

  Biron studied several other missions of the U.S.S. da Vinci itself, from their assorted construction missions (an irrigation system on a desert world designated Elvan; a subspace accelerator on the crystalline world designated Sarindar), salvage missions (a one-hundred-year-old Starfleet starship, the U.S.S. Defiant from an interphasic rift in the fabric of space; an alien vessel that the U.S.S. da Vinci crew members gave the inappropriate name “the Beast,” but which was in fact a ship belonging to a species known as the Hlangry, which Biron himself had also encountered two-point-nine cycles earlier), and rescue missions (prisoners from the malfunctioning prison designated the Kursican Orbital Platform; the mining colony of Beta Argola from an attack by the species known as the Munqu).

  He noted several references to Commander Sonya Gomez’s exploits during the Dominion War on the U.S.S. Sentinel and decided that it was time to read about some of those missions as well….

  U.S.S. Sentinel

  STARDATE 52646.1

  Lt. Commander Sonya Gomez had been wandering the halls of Deep Space 9 since the Sentinel docked at the station a few hours ago.

  I can’t believe I’m lost. I never get lost.

  It was a point of pride with her as much as anything. She had always had a dead-on sense of direction. Within three months at the Academy, the fourth-year cadets were asking her for shortcuts around campus. On the Enterprise, the Oberth, Altair IV, and the Sentinel, she knew her way around almost instantly, and never needed to consult the computer for directions.

  Yet this Cardassian-built space station was vexing her.

  As she turned a corner from one identical dark corridor into another identical dark corridor, she took refuge in a familiar face heading toward her.

  “Chief!”

  Miles Edward O’Brien looked up from the padd he was studying to see Gomez. “Sonya! Er, sorry, Commander.”

  Gomez grinned. “Sonya’s just fine, Chief. How’ve you been?”

  “About like you’d expect,” the taller man said with a wry smile.

  “Are Keiko and Molly doing all right?”

  “Just fine, all things considered. Keiko’s not thrilled with being this close to the front, but with the way things are going, no place is all that safe.”

  Remembering the images of the Breen attack on San Francisco that she saw in the Sentinel’s observation lounge, Gomez was forced to agree. “I know what you mean.”

  “Oh, and Molly has a brother—Kirayoshi.”

  That put the smile back on Gomez’s face. She had always thought the chief and Keiko Ishikawa made a good couple, and she was glad to see that her instincts had proven correct. If only those instincts had been as accurate with Kieran, she thought, then put it out of her head. She and Kieran Duffy had broken up when she transferred off the Enterprise to the Oberth almost eight years ago. They had promised to keep in touch, but didn’t. At times she missed him horribly, at times she forgot all about him. She idly wondered if O’Brien had heard from him—after all, the chief had remained on the Enterprise for another year and a half after she left before he took over as chief of operations at DS9.

  Instead, she kept the topic comfortable. “I hope his birth went more smoothly than Molly’s.”

  “You could say that. Worf didn’t have to deliver this one, at least.”

  Gomez laughed. Worf’s impromptu midwifing of Keiko had happened less than a week before Gomez left for the Oberth, and had gotten her a lot of storytelling mileage on that one-year assignment. She had forgotten that the Klingon, too, was now assigned to DS9. It’s like it’s old home week….

  O’Brien continued. “But, ah, it was actually Colonel Kira who carried the baby to term. It’s a very long story,” he said quickly, obviously not wanting to get into it.

  Taking the hint, she said, “I wish I had time to hear it, but I need to get to the meeting in the wardroom.”

  “I won’t keep you, then,” O’Brien said.

  “Actually, I need you to tell me how to get there. I’ve gotten completely turned around.”

  Chuckling, O’Brien said, “Cardassian architecture.” He quickly gave a series of clear directions that included a turbolift ride two levels up.

  “I really did get lost, didn’t I?”

  “A bit, yeah,” O’Brien said with a smile. “Don’t worry—I won’t tell. Your reputation’s safe with me.”

  “Thanks. And give my love to the family—oh, and in case I don’t see him, say hi to Worf for me.”

  “Will do. Take care, Sonya!”

  Following O’Brien’s directions brought Gomez to the wardroom in under three minutes, and only five minutes after the meeting’s official start time—which meant, of course, that not everyone was there and it hadn’t begun yet. Gomez’s CO, Captain Anna Maria Amalfitano, was already present, along with the Sentinel’s first officer Lt. Commander Kuljit Patel. Gomez took some satisfaction out of the fact that she couldn’t see their tactical officer, so she wasn’t the last one to arrive.

  Of course, given the crowd in the wardroom, she might have missed Grimnar, their Bolian tactical officer, but a two-meter-tall blue-skinned humanoid tended to stand out, even in a room full of Klingons, Romulans, and Starfleet officers. The senior staffs of the Musashi and the Fredrickson made up the remainder of the Starfleet personnel, and she assumed that the Klingons and Romulans were involved in whatever their mission was.

  Grimnar finally came in about two seconds before the arrival of Admiral Ross, Captain Sisko, General—no, Chancellor Martok, and a Romulan general she didn’t recognize. As soon as they did, many took seats, with most of the rest standing along the walls, as there were far more people than available seats. Gomez found herself wedged between a surly-looking-even-by-their-standards Klingon and a bored-looking Starfleet officer with full lieutenant’s pips.

  Sisko began without preamble, speaking in an intense, deep voice. “The mission we have for you all is twofold. The Sentinel, the Musashi, and the Fredrickson will be dispatched to the Dominion outpost in Sector 25013.”

  Amalfitano blinked. “That’s a bit deep into enemy territory, isn’t it?”

  Martok chuckled. “Not as deep as others shall go.”

  “A fleet of twelve warbirds, aided by some Klingon vessels,” the Romulan general said, sounding almost pained at having to even acknowledge the Klingon contribution, “will be moving under cloak to the Orias system. That system is under constant antiproton scan by the outpost you will be attacking.”

  Nodding, Amalfitano said, “So you need us to take down the outpost, or at least distract them long enough for the cloaked ships to sneak in and wipe out the shipyards on Orias III?”

  “Exactly,” Sisko said. “With the Breen energy-dampening weapon neutralized, and the Cardassian resistance sabotaging their ships, we need to strike at a decisive target and start to get our momentum back. We think this attack on Orias will aid in that.”

  “The timing will be critical,” the Romulan added. “We won’t be able to communicate with each other, obviously, so you must arrive at the outpost at the designated time so we can begin our run.”

  One of the other Starfleet captains asked, “What kind of defenses can we expect?”

  Ross spoke up then. “Intelligence reports indicate that there are only two Jem’Hadar strike ships guarding it.”

  The third Starfleet captain made an irritated noise. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Admiral, Captain, but aren’t three ships a bit—well, inadequate? We’ll be lucky to get that far into Dominion territory a
s it is.”

  There were some rumblings from the Klingons at that, but Ross simply said, “Unfortunately, you’re all we can spare. We’re putting together a massive offensive against the Dominion. This is one of many strikes we’re attempting simultaneously to keep their forces spread thin. We have to press the attack now.”

  “However,” Sisko said, “you will have a relatively easy time getting there. Thanks to the Cardassian resistance, we’ve been able to obtain a course that will get you to the outpost without encountering any patrols. It’s a less direct route, so you’ll have to go at warp seven most of the way to get there at the pre-arranged time.”

  Patel said, “This is assuming that the patrols stick to their assigned routes. We can’t very well count on that.”

  “We’re past the point where we can play things safe, Commander,” Sisko said just as the Klingon next to Gomez made a disparaging comment under his breath about Patel’s lineage.

  Before her first officer could say anything else, Amalfitano spoke. “We’ll be fine, Captain, don’t worry. We’ll clear a path for the rest of you,” she added, looking around the room.

  Then her gaze fell upon Gomez. This is my moment, I guess, she thought. The chief engineer hadn’t really needed to be at this briefing, but she had come up with an idea that the captain wanted brought up in front of Sisko and the other higher-ups. “Captain, Admiral, if I may?”

  “Yes, Commander Gomez, what is it?” Sisko asked.

  Both Martok and the Romulan bristled, but Sisko and Ross each gave her expectant looks, as if they were genuinely interested in what she might have to say. Gomez took that as an encouraging sign. “We might be able to do better than just having a specific course. We can alter our ships to make us look like Cardassian freighters.”