Текст книги "Twilight "

Автор книги: David George

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The science officer looked up from his panel. The soft lights of his display lent a slight, orange cast to one side of his blue face and white hair. “Yes, sir,” he said. “It may even be likely; the atmosphere is clearly in flux, which would probably leave some areas not as deep as others. But I’m not sure if the sensors will be able to penetrate the clouds at any depth.”

“Let’s find out,” Vaughn said. He looked down at Prynn. “Ensign Tenmei, break geosynchronous orbit and take us down. Keep us—” He turned to ch’Thane. “Five kilometers, Ensign?” he asked. With the possibility that the probe had been damaged by its passage through the clouds, Vaughn would not want to risk a similar fate for Defiant.

“That should be a safe distance,” ch’Thane said.

“Keep us five kilometers above the clouds,” Vaughn told Prynn.

“Aye, sir,” she said. Vaughn watched as her hands danced expertly across her console. “Viewer ahead,” he ordered, and one of the crew—probably Bowers—made the adjustment. Vaughn saw the image change to a flickering starfield, the flickering the result of the rubble in the system moving between the ship and the backdrop of distant stars. On the left stretched the gray arc of the planet. As Vaughn watched, the planet began to fill more of the screen, Prynn guiding Defiantdownward. The image imparted a sense of movement, though the inertial dampers prevented an accompanying sensation. The dark horizon loomed as the ship grew closer to the planet.

Prynn counted out the distance to the top of the cloud cover. The beeps and tones of the conn were joined by those of the tactical and sciences consoles as Lieutenant Bowers and Ensign ch’Thane operated the ship’s sensors. Prynn reached five kilometers, and the ship leveled off, the arc of the planet stabilizing on the viewscreen.

“I’m not reading past the clouds,” ch’Thane reported, “but scans indicate that they do vary in density and depth.”

“Very good,” Vaughn said. “Let’s find the—”

The ship was rocked. Vaughn felt himself pitch forward, and he instinctively reached for the flight-control console. His hand found it as his body twisted around, leaving him facing aft. He managed to keep from losing his footing. The ship shuddered, a roar filling the bridge, as though Defianthad been pounded by weapons fire. “Prynn,” he yelled over the noise. He saw her hands moving across her panel even before he issued the command. “Take us up.” He wondered how she could even see her controls, let alone work them, with the ship shaking as much as it was. But then Defiant’s flight smoothed out, the sound returning to its earlier level. No,Vaughn realized. The sound’s not the same.

“Something hit us from below,” Bowers reported without having to be asked. “Shields are down to seventy-one percent.”

“Thrusters are offline,” Nog said. “The impulse engines…” A note of confusion laced the engineer’s voice.

“I brought them online when the thrusters went down,” Prynn explained. That accounted for the change in the sound of the ship, Vaughn knew. He dropped his hand from the side of the conn and made his way back to the command chair, where he sat down heavily.

“Any other damage to the ship?” Vaughn asked. “Casualties?”

“Reports are coming in,” Bowers said. “Nothing more major than the thrusters. And only a few bumps and bruises for the crew.”

“We were hit by a discharge of energy from the clouds,” ch’Thane said.

“Were we attacked?” Vaughn wanted to know.

“I don’t think so,” ch’Thane said, working his console. “It was more like lightning striking a lightning rod.” That, at least, was reassuring.

“Sir,” Nog said, “I need to get below to help Ensign Permenter with the thrusters.”

“Go,” Vaughn said. “Ensign Tenmei, will you be able to maintain a standard orbit using the impulse engines?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ensign ch’Thane,” Vaughn said, hearing the starboard door open and close behind him as Nog left the bridge, “determine the safest minimum distance for the ship above the clouds. We still need to find out what’s down there.”

“Yes, sir,” the science officer said.

As the crew set about their tasks, Vaughn thought back to when he had stood on the Vahni world, looked up to the sky, and seen the awful sight of their splintered moon. He peered at the viewscreen, at the forbidding environment below, and thought, And somewhere down there is the cause.

Vaughn looked at the desktop computer interface in his ready room and studied the records provided by the Vahni Vahltupali. A translation in Federation Standard marched across the bottom half of the display below the ideogrammic Vahni text. The written language of the unique alien species reflected their physical characteristics; their complex symbols echoed the shapes and colors Vaughn had seen dashing across their flesh.

Vaughn squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his closed lids. He was tired and frustrated, having found nothing in the Vahni data to assist the crew in penetrating the sea of clouds surrounding the planet below. For the last fifteen minutes, Vaughn realized, his attention had wandered from his research to the content of the message he would soon have to transmit to Starfleet Command. He would need to detail the plight of the Vahni, and impart a sense of urgency to—

“Bridge to Captain,”came Lieutenant Dax’s voice over the comm system. She had taken some shifts off after the accident aboard Saganand the loss of Ensign Roness, but she had then insisted on returning to duty. So far, she seemed to be recovering well from her ordeal.

“Vaughn,” he responded, still rubbing his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“Sir,”Dax said, “we’ve found something.”

Vaughn dropped his hand from his face and opened his eyes. The twisting, multihued Vahni text greeted him, but in his mind, he saw the crew on the bridge. “I’m on my way,” he said. He pushed a control and blanked the display, then rose and left the ready room. He crossed the main port corridor into one of the side halls behind the bridge, and a moment later he entered Defiant’s command center.

“Report,” he said.

Dax looked over her shoulder at the sound of his voice, then stood from the command chair. “We’ve been scanning the cloud cover for places the sensors can see through,” she said, “and we found a complete break.”

Vaughn stopped beside Dax and peered at the viewscreen. In several places, the atmosphere had shifted, allowing a small but unobstructed view through the clouds. Vaughn spied a nondescript patch of brown that he took to be land. “What do you make of it, Ensign ch’Thane?”

“I believe it’s simply a result of the constant movement of the clouds,” he said. “We’re on the side of the planet almost diametrically opposite the source of the pulse, so if that’s what’s causing the atmospheric effects, they may be less pronounced here.”

“There’s no guarantee how long the break will remain open,” Dax told him. “Sensors and transporters and communications still can’t scan past the clouds because of the energy surges, but we may be able to get a probe through.”

Vaughn looked at Dax and nodded. “Do it,” he said.

Five minutes later, another probe was launched. As it flew toward the break in the clouds and then started down, Vaughn ordered it to be tracked on the viewscreen. He and the rest of the crew watched the probe descend, the magnification on the viewer increasing as it did. Several times, the shifting clouds obscured the view, but they were able to follow the probe until, finally, it leveled off and began its trip around the planet. With luck, it would be back on the ship by morning, providing data about whatever was down there.

As Vaughn peered at the viewscreen, though, he had a sudden intuition that he would not like what the probe would find.

28

The heavy doors to the security office opened with a whir. Kira strode inside and up to the desk, a padd clutched at her side. Even half a year after his departure, she felt a moment of loss whenever she entered here and did not see Odo at the post he had held for so long. Behind her, the doors closed with a solid click.

“Colonel,” Ro said, sounding startled as she looked up from the display on her desk.

“You sound surprised to see me,” Kira said.

“Oh, well, yes,” Ro admitted, “but only because I was just sending you a message to see if I could meet with you tomorrow.” She glanced back down at her desk and touched a control. “But I guess I don’t need to do that now.”

“What did you want to see me about?” Kira asked. She noticed the security monitors behind Ro, and was pleased to see that all of the holding cells stood empty.

“Well,” Ro started, sitting back in her chair, “about Quark.” Kira smiled, although she felt no humor. The answer hardly came as a shock to her. With Odo gone, it had only been a matter of time before the unscrupulous Ferengi had begun to extend the limits of his attempts to bend, if not break, the law. Kira had certainly expected him to grow bolder with the changes in station security personnel over the past months.

“What’s he done now?” Kira asked. “He and Morn aren’t staging vole fights again, are they?” Before the Europani refugees had left the station, two of them had complained of seeing the oversized Cardassian rodents, though at the time, Kira had ascribed the reports to overactive imaginations.

“No, no,” Ro said. “Actually, it’s not Quark that’s the problem; it’s Taran’atar.”

Kira blinked. “Taran’atar?” she said, a sudden sense of dread washing over her about what Ro might say. Part of the feeling, she knew, was personal—she had begun to like the Jem’Hadar—but part of it stemmed from persistent concerns about the Dominion. Kira had noticed Taran’atar spending less time in ops during the last few days, and she had intended to ask him about it. She had assumed that he had been using the holosuites, engaging in his combat programs. Now, she hoped that had been the case, and that the trouble that had arisen was no more serious than a complaint from Quark about the holosuites being damaged. She stepped forward and took one of the chairs in front of the desk. “What happened?” she asked Ro.

The security chief related a story about Taran’atar unshrouding in the bar a short time ago and frightening Quark’s customers. That might not have been so bad by itself, Kira thought, but then Ro talked about a report she had only just received. Yesterday, apparently, Taran’atar had unexpectedly appeared in one of the child-care facilities on the station, scaring everybody there—so much so that they had even been fearful of informing security about it. It was one sort of misdeed to bother patrons in a bar, Kira thought, and something else entirely to terrorize children.

Kira stood up and paced the security office, her arms folded, still holding the padd. She turned back toward the desk and started to ask questions about what had occurred in the child-care facility, but Ro told her that she had not yet begun to investigate the episode. She had witnessed the aftermath of Taran’atar’s appearance in Quark’s, though. “I don’t think he meant to unshroud,” Ro said, “and I really don’t think he meant to scare anybody, but he certainly did.”

“Not just Quark?” Kira asked, walking back toward the desk.

“No,” Ro said. “I saw a lot of people racing out of the bar, and it seemed pretty clear who they were racing away from.”

“All right,” Kira said. “I’ll speak to Taran’atar about it tomorrow.” Today had been a long enough day without adding any additional responsibilities to it. After she left here, she intended to head straight for her quarters.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Ro said.

Kira sighed and sat back down. This was not a problem she wanted to have right now, just days ahead of the summit between Bajor and the Federation—which was the subject she had actually come here to discuss. She informed Ro about the impending arrivals of the Bajoran, Trill, and Alonis delegations on Deep Space 9, and about the need for heightened, but discreet, security.

Ro moved forward in her chair, leaning her elbows on her desk. “Aren’t the Alonis water-breathers?” she asked.

“They are,” Kira said. “But they won’t be expecting us to modify any of our accommodations for them. They’ll be using aquatic rebreathing devices while they’re on the station, and they’ll return to their ship every night.” She looked down and activated the padd she had brought with her. It came to life with a chirp, and she handed it across the desk to Ro. “This is a list of the members of all the delegations,” Kira said. “Councillor zh’Thane and Admiral Akaar will be attending the talks as well.”

Ro took the padd and glanced at its contents, then looked back up at Kira. “What’s this about?” she asked.

Kira hesitated briefly, recalling how secretive Akaar had been about the summit, but then she decided that the security chief would need as much information as possible in order to properly discharge her duty. Kira told Ro about Bajor’s renewed petition for membership in the Federation, and that the coming talks would produce an outcome, one way or the other.

Ro’s mouth opened as Kira spoke, and the color drained from her face. Kira saw but did not understand the reaction. Ro looked off to the side, as though in thought. “I knew there was a reason he was at the station,” she said, almost too quietly to hear.

“You mean Admiral Akaar?” Kira asked.

Ro turned back to Kira as though waking from a daydream. “Oh, uh, yes,” she said. Ro’s expression went blank. “I’d just been wondering why he’s been here at DS9,” she said, but Kira could see that there was more to Ro’s reaction than simply casual curiosity. She remembered Akaar’s concerns about Ro’s abilities and her dedication to duty.

“Do you know the admiral?” Kira asked. “I mean, did you know him prior to him coming to the station?”

“Yes,” Ro said. “When I was in Starfleet. We had a…professional disagreement.” The admission was clearly uncomfortable for her to make.

“What sort of ‘professional disagreement’?” Kira asked.

“I’d…prefer not to discuss it, Colonel,” Ro said.

Kira quickly grew angry at the uncommunicative response—she had about had enough of those lately—but she just as quickly squelched the feeling. As commander of the station, she continued trying to prevent herself from reacting too hastily in any circumstances. Now, instead, she attempted to put herself in Ro’s place, imagining a disagreement between herself and a superior—and the Prophets only knew how many times that had happened during her life. She only had to think of the Attainder for evidence of that. “I understand, Lieutenant,” Kira said. “But I have to ask you if this disagreement with the admiral will have any effect on the performance of your duties.”

“No, sir,” Ro said definitively. “Not from my end.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I need to know about this,” Kira asked. “Because if there is, I want to know about it now.”

Ro did not answer right away, but paused and seemed to consider the question, which Kira appreciated. Still, Kira did not expect Ro to divulge what she had already chosen to keep to herself.

“Colonel,” Ro said at last, “the admiral doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him either. He probably doesn’t think I’m capable of doing this job, or any other job, for that matter. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m going to do my job the way I’m supposed to, the way you expect me to, no matter what the admiral thinks.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kira said, satisfied with both Ro’s honesty and her attitude. She stood up. “Develop a security plan for the period that the delegations will be on the station, and let’s meet in my office tomorrow morning to discuss it. Ten hundred hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Ro said. “Thank you.”

Kira nodded, then turned and left, the doors opening at her approach. She felt positive about the meeting she had just had with Ro, but as she walked along the Promenade, she realized that she also felt uneasy—not about Ro, but once more about Admiral Akaar.

29

The complex of buildings slumped across the landscape in disrepair, but still remained standing—everywhere but at its center. There, in a circle roughly a hundred meters in diameter, no hint of a structure existed. Instead, only a gray darkness endured—darkness, and energy.

Nog looked away from the aerial view of the complex on one monitor and over to the accompanying sensor data on another. He reviewed the limited information for the I don’t know how many times,he thought, and realized that he was not going to reach a conclusion different from the one he had already drawn. He peered over at Shar, who stood beside him in the aft section of the bridge, and saw a somber expression on his friend’s face. Although Nog would certainly characterize Shar as a serious individual, the Andorian often wore a smile—as a means of both blending in and warding off unwanted attention, Nog suspected. But serious or not, smiling or not, Shar usually maintained a steady manner, neither upbeat nor down. Since they had departed Deep Space 9, though, Nog had noticed his friend keeping almost completely to himself—not an easy feat, considering that the two shared their cramped quarters. Shar had brightened during the contact with the Vahni Vahltupali, but right now, though Nog doubted anybody else on board would be able to tell, Shar seemed terribly low. And with what the sensor readings from the probe had revealed, Nog could not really blame him.

Shar did not look up at Nog, but continued to study the contents of a padd in his hands. Nog looked to his right, at the rest of the bridge. The sounds of voices and consoles filled the air, an aural mixture not unlike that in Uncle Quark’s bar, he thought—except that the voices in the bar did not often talk about sensor readings, and the beeps and tones of consoles substituted here for the clatter of the dabo wheel. Around the bridge, Nog saw several pairs of crewpeople in conversation: Merimark and Rahim at the tactical console, Cassini and T’rb at sciences, and Vaughn and Dax near the main viewscreen. Nog was sure that, like himself and Shar, they were all discussing or analyzing the data they had finally collected from the planet.

The second probe had successfully negotiated the break in the clouds, and then circled the planet at relatively low altitude, flying as far below the atmospheric cover as reasonable. While the probe had been scanning the surface, the breaks in the clouds had been swept closed, but others had appeared this morning, allowing it to find its way back into space. During its ascent, it had been impacted by an energy surge, but it had survived the incident and returned to Defiant.

Nog turned back to the monitors set into the aft bulkhead. The sensor scans of the planet showed an industrial civilization, but in ruins. There were no life signs beyond those of flora; enough sunlight apparently penetrated the gray sea of clouds to allow plants to survive on the surface. The most important information the probe had gathered, though, concerned the site that Shar had identified as the source of the pulse. Scans had failed to discern anything about the building complex there due to the energy readings at its center, but the energy readings themselves had proven critical in Nog’s analysis. In the hour that the probe had spent circling above the complex and harvesting data, the energy level had increased at a consistent rate—and that had brought Nog to his conclusion.

He peered over at Shar again. “What do you think?” he asked. Shar looked up from the padd. His antennae had a particular crook to them, a certain…attitude. Over time, Nog had learned to read Shar’s mood, at least sometimes, by the position of his antennae. And what he saw now told him that Shar had reached the same troubling conclusion that he had. A moment later, Shar answered Nog’s question and confirmed that suspicion.

“I’ll go get the captain,” Nog said. He walked along the starboard side of the bridge—past Merimark and Rahim at tactical, and Senkowski at the engineering station—and up to Commander Vaughn and Lieutenant Dax standing near the starboard side of the viewscreen. Beyond them, the dead planet hung in space, shrouded in its gray pall. Vaughn and Dax both looked over at him as he walked up.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Vaughn said.

“Captain,” Nog said, “Ensign ch’Thane and I would like to speak with you; we’ve completed our analyses.” Vaughn gave a short, quick nod, and gestured toward the aft section of the bridge. Nog turned and led the way back, with Vaughn and Dax following. Shar looked up from the padd again as the group approached.

Nog pointed to the monitor displaying the building complex. “As you know,” he said, addressing Vaughn and Dax, “this is where we believe the pulse originated. Specifically, here.” He tapped the center of the screen, indicating the great, shadowy circle at the heart of the buildings. “Because of the energy readings in this area—” Nog worked the controls below the second monitor, searching for the data that would illustrate his words. He found it and pointed it out to Commander Vaughn. “You can see from these scans,” Nog said, “that interference from the energy prevented the sensors from picking up anything for kilometers around the complex.” Vaughn and Dax both nodded.

“Can you tell if the energy is a natural phenomenon,” Vaughn asked, “or artificial?”

Nog looked over to Shar, who said, “No, we can’t.” The science officer reached up to the monitor and traced a circle along the boundary between the complex and the gray patch. “Sections of the buildings here appear to have collapsed, which could indicate a natural phenomenon that the builders of the complex were not expecting. But it may be that this is some sort of energy-production facility, and the builders somehow lost control of it.”

“Either way,” Dax said, “whether the energy occurs naturally or artificially, this must be what destroyed the civilization on the planet.”

“Actually, we’re not certain about that,” Nog said. “Scans around the rest of the planet show it to be perfectly habitable—” Shar passed his padd to him, and he passed it to Vaughn. “—and the pulse appears to have emanated outward and upward from the complex, not along the surface.”

“But the planet is devoid of life,” Dax noted.

“That’s true,” Nog agreed, “but we’re just not sure why.”

“Any idea how we might be able to stop the pulses?” Vaughn asked.

“Not yet,” Nog said. “But from the level of the interference with the sensors, we were able to determine the current magnitude of the energy at the site. And the rate at which it’s changing.”

“Changing?” Dax said.

“Yes,” Nog said. “The amount of energy there is increasing considerably.”

“Why?” Vaughn asked.

“We don’t know,” Nog said. “But we can tell that it is increasing at a combinatorial rate.”

“Combinatorial?” Dax said. She sounded shocked, and Nog thought that she clearly understood that such a rate of change was far greater than either a geometric or exponential progression.

“Yes,” Nog said. “And if it continues increasing like that, then the amount of energy there will soon match the amount in the pulse we encountered in the Vahni system.”

“Meaning that another pulse will launch into space,” Vaughn concluded solemnly.

“We think so,” Nog said.

“How long?” Vaughn wanted to know.

Nog glanced over at Shar again, not for scientific support this time, but for moral support. Nog did not want to answer Vaughn’s question, because he did not want the information he had to be true. But he knew that it was.

Nog turned back to face Vaughn and Dax. “Three and a half days,” he said.

Before Vaughn issued his final order, he glanced down at the padd on his desk. In the upper right corner of the display, a flashing icon denoted the active link to the ship’s library computer, and in the middle of the screen, a blue progress indicator had almost reached the three-quarters mark. The download of the Vahni data, together with the translation algorithms for their written language, was taking some time.

Vaughn looked back up at the figure of Lieutenant Dax standing across from him. Her soft, round features had drawn into a tense expression, but she wore it well, he thought; the situation warranted concern, and she seemed neither panicked nor unsure, despite the tremendous responsibility being thrust upon her. “If something should happen on the planet,” Vaughn told her, continuing their conversation, “if we’re not back in eighty hours, I want you to take Defiantout of here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. To her credit, she spoke without hesitation, although Vaughn knew that even the idea of abandoning three of the crew must have troubled her, particularly after the loss of Ensign Roness. It would have bothered any officer. Vaughn had certainly left enough people behind in his career to know that it never got any easier. And sometimes,he thought, you end up leaving yourself behind… or pieces of yourself.

Vaughn stood up and walked around the desk. “Lieutenant,” he said, locking eyes with his first officer, “I want to be very clear about this.” As much as he could, he would ease this burden for her by making this decision now, and not requiring her to make it later. “I don’t want Defianthere even a minute past the deadline I’ve given you. Even if we can’t save the Vahni, we’re at least going to save the crew.”

Dax straightened, her bearing changing subtly. She nodded slowly and seriously, her hands slipping out of sight behind her back. The expression on her face appeared to belong momentarily to somebody else. “I understand,” she said in a voice that also seemed only partially her own. “I won’t wait.”

“Good,” Vaughn said, and he circled back behind his desk again. “Believe me, though,” he went on, “if we can’t stop the next pulse from launching into space, I don’t intend to be on the planet for it. There are buildings still standing down on the surface, but there certainly aren’t any people.”

He leaned to his right and checked the padd again, his fingertips brushing the smooth, glassine desktop. The progress indicator had edged up toward the eighty percent mark, he saw.

“Sir?” Dax said, and now her voice sounded exclusively like her own again. “What about the Vahni Vahltupali? If you can’t stop the pulse on the planet, and we can’t stop it in space, then should we contact them? Should we contact them now and tell them about the situation?”

Vaughn sighed. He had thought about this himself during the past few hours. “My decision would be not to,” he said, sitting back down. “If the next pulse is even as powerful as the last one—and the Vahni records tell us that it will be more powerful—then they have virtually no chance of surviving. At the very least, the quakes that will wrack their planet will decimate their civilization. They don’t have starships, and none could arrive from the Alpha Quadrant in time to evacuate them.”

“So what good would it do to tell them that their society was facing annihilation?” Dax asked rhetorically, answering her original question. She brought her hands out from behind her back and clasped them together in front of her waist. “There would be panic.”

“Panic,” Vaughn agreed, “and fear and sorrow and pain. I see no reason to visit that upon them.” What he did see, though, was an opportunity to further demonstrate his confidence in Dax’s leadership. She had learned a great deal and performed well in the few months since she had chosen to pursue the command path, and his belief in her was tacit in his having assigned her as Defiant’s first officer for this mission to the Gamma Quadrant. At the same time, the Starfleet crew on DS9 were not exactly overburdened with command personnel, a circumstance that had obviously contributed to Dax’s rapid rise to a position of such authority. Vaughn certainly felt her capable, but because of the fast and dramatic increase in her responsibilities, he endeavored to demonstrate his faith in her whenever the chance arose. “If I’m not on Defiantwhen it departs, though,” he told her, “then whether or not to contact the Vahni will be your decision. If we don’t make it back to the ship, the only order I’m binding you to at that time is to get the crew to safety.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“In the meantime, keep Lieutenant Nog and Ensign T’rb focused on finding a means of defeating the pulse in space,” he said. “Maybe if we can’t shut it down at the source, they’ll be able to find some way of dealing with it up here.”

“Both the engineering and science staffs are already working on the problem,” Dax said.

“I know,” Vaughn said. “Defianthas a fine crew.”

Dax nodded her agreement. “One last thing, Captain,” she said. “What about the Sagan?Should I keep a team working on it?” The necessary repairs to the shuttle would still take another five to eight days to complete.

“Yes,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Unless those personnel are specifically needed for the effort to stop the pulse. We’re not that sure of our facts; maybe the energy buildup will start to diminish, or the rate of increase will, and we’ll end up here for more than three days. In that case, the second shuttle might be of some use to us.” Vaughn did not need to dwell on the fact that, once he took Chaffeedown to the planet’s surface, he and the shuttle crew would be isolated from Defiant—and from any assistance, should they require it. Neither communications, sensors, nor the transporter could penetrate the energy in the cloud cover. Lieutenant Dax and Dr. Bashir had already raised concerns about that issue, but Vaughn had quickly decided that whatever potential risk there would be to the shuttle crew was easily offset by the almost certain danger to the Vahni.

“Understood,” Dax acknowledged.

“Is there anything else, Lieutenant?” Vaughn asked.

“No, sir,” she said. “Except…good luck, Captain.”

“And to you, Lieutenant,” Vaughn said. “I know I’m leaving the ship in good hands.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Dax started for the door, but she stopped when a voice sounded over the comm system. “Ensign ch’Thane to Captain Vaughn.”

Vaughn tapped his combadge. “Go ahead, Ensign,” Vaughn said.