Текст книги "Lesser Evil"

Автор книги: Robert Simpson

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

The right fit…The words completed a circuit in Kira’s mind about recent thoughts she’d had regarding her own life, and she leaned over for a quiet word with Akaar before he stepped away from the table. “Admiral, may I have a moment?”

“Colonel?”

“I just wanted to thank you for your vote of confidence in me.” Kira said sincerely. “But I’m confused about what you said regarding my Starfleet status. My commission was always supposed to be temporary. I resigned it when I returned from Cardassia after the war.”

“Did you?” Akaar said, and then shrugged his great shoulders. “We must have lost the paperwork.”

Did he just crack a smile?“I see,” Kira said. “Well. I guess that explains it.”

Akaar inclined his head. “Good hunting, Colonel.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kira watched him go, not quite sure how to feel about the admiral’s little sleight of hand. Still, she was grateful for the chance to take an active role in bringing Shakaar’s killer to justice.

Alone now with Kira, the first minister sighed wearily before she spoke. “We share a burdensome secret, Colonel.”

“Yes, we do,” Kira agreed.

“After the near-disaster Shakaar made of the Cardassian situation, I truly considered exposing his duplicity. It would have ended my career, but it would have been worth it to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.”

“I had the same thoughts,” Kira said.

“What stopped you?”

Kira considered her answer, then shrugged. “Faith, I suppose. I kept telling myself it was all happening for a reason. Shakaar, the Cardassian mess, the Ohalavaru—and just when things were at their worst, Yevir, of all people, goes completely around Shakaar to forge a relationship with Cardassia outside of politics, an initiative based on faiths coming together for the greater good. And in the process, he brought the last of the Orbs back.”

Asarem smiled grimly. “Yes, who could have seen thatcoming? Yevir actually made the politicians irrelevant to the peace process. I’m still scratching my head over it. To my knowledge it’s unprecedented. I realized then that it might be the start of a revolution in diplomacy. And do you know what else I realized, Colonel?”

Kira shook her head.

“No one but a Bajoran could have done it.”

Kira considered Asarem’s statement and smiled.

Asarem breathed out again. “What stopped mefrom exposing Shakaar wasn’t faith, however. It was fear. I feared derailing Bajor’s entry into the Federation, because I believed in it. Now Shakaar is dead, and I wonder if I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Kira asked. “About not exposing Shakaar, or about Federation unity?”

“Both,” Asarem said. “Shakaar was up to something. Colonel. We both know that. Something that was tied to his efforts to speed us into Federation membership. And yet he felt threatened by the Cardassian peace initiative, which could only have helped his cause. But now he’s dead, with the result that Bajor and the Federation may never come together.

“So I now find myself wondering…which is the lesser evil? To complete what Shakaar started, when I know he acted ignominiously in his pursuit of it? Or to reject it, even though I know that a different evil may be attempting to pit us and the Federation against each other?”

Kira was silent a moment. Then she said, “Put that way, you’re right, it’s a difficult choice. But then I remember that whatever plot Shakaar was hatching, he didn’t start the process of Bajor’s joining. He merely used it. It was the Emissary who started us on this path.”

Asarem chuckled. “Yes, that was quite clever of Councillor zh’Thane, wasn’t it? Her reputation is well earned.”

“But she did have a point,” Kira said gently.

“Yes,” Asarem agreed. “She did. Unfortunately for me, however, neither the Emissary nor Shakaar will be taking responsibilty for what comes next.” With a deep breath Asarem stood, and Kira stood with her. “Report to the Gryphon,Colonel. This conversation never took place.”

5

The crash site was a forest. From what little they could tell by the ship’s sensors, much of the planet was going through an impressive period of biological gigantism, not unlike Earth’s Jurassic period, 150 million years in the past, or present-day Berengaria. Huge gymnosperms carpeted the two primary continents, where myriad small forest-dwelling animals ran and flew. Sea life was also abundant—and colossal in many cases—but the most spectacular inhabitants of this world were the variety of towering, armorplated, multilimbed land-walkers that lumbered among the trees. The away team beamed down with phasers drawn.

A strong warm wind tugged at Vaughn’s uniform once he materialized, pushing him back a half-step before he could completely steel himself against it. Clouds hung heavily overhead, with intermittent flashes of lightning. The wind howled, but strangely, there was no rain.

“Dax warned us the weather might be inconvenient,” Bowers shouted over the wind. “But she seemed pretty sure it wouldn’t get worse than this.”

Vaughn nodded, squinting at the terrain. Visibility was poor beyond ten meters; the forest was dense. Neverthless, the Jem’Hadar wreckage was supposed to be…

“There,” Nog called out, pointing toward a gap in the trees as he peered at his tricorder. “The fragments we detected start in that direction.” Smaller than Vaughn or Bowers, Nog had to work hard to keep his footing against the wind.

“Let’s get moving, then,” Vaughn said. “Sam, maintain a scan for life-forms. We don’t want to be accosted by a predator.”

Wrist lights went on as the away team entered the gloom beneath the forest canopy. As they walked deeper, the wind lessened until they could speak to one another without shouting. They were almost on top of the wreckage before they realized it, and had it not been for the tricorders, they might have missed it completely. Half-buried in muddy earth, so much vegetation had overgrown the portions still above the ground that it looked just like a slope in the terrain. A bare patch of dark metal among the thorny vines was the only obvious indication the ship was there at all.

“Damn,” Bowers muttered, and pointed. Next to the “hill,” a flat, crooked tree stuck out at forty-five degrees. Then Vaughn realized his mistake. It wasn’t a tree; it was one of the ship’s warp engine pylons. The nacelle must have been shorn off during the descent.

“Can you tell how long it’s been here?” Vaughn asked.

Bowers studied his tricorder. “From what I can tell, no more than two years. But I don’t think—” He stopped and froze.

“What’s the matter?” Nog asked.

“Life-form,” Bowers reported. “Humanoid. Inside the ship.”

“Is it the source of the transponder signal?” the engineer whispered.

“No,” Vaughn said quietly, taking readings with his own tricorder. “That seems to be a few klicks southwest.” He looked at Bowers. “How do you want to handle your friend in there?”

“We spread out,” Bowers suggested. “Tricorder’s showing an open hatch on the other side, facing west. You and I can approach from north and south. There’s enough vegetation covering the ship that Nog can probably cross the top of the hull without making a lot of noise. Then we flush out the occupant.”

Vaughn looked at Nog. “Are you game, Lieutenant?”

Nog swallowed, but nodded. Nog’s fear and hatred of the Jem’Hadar was no secret, having had his leg shot off by one in a vicious ground assault during the war. His recent experience with the alien “cathedral” artifact had forced him to confront the demons that haunted him still regarding the Dominion’s genetically enhanced soldier species, but any rational being would fear a confrontation with them.

“You’ll do fine,” Vaughn assured him. “Phasers on stun, gentlemen. Let’s do this.”

Sam took the south way around the ship, passing under the engine pylon. Working his tricorder as he walked, he tried to determine the exact nature of their quarry, but the vaguely humanoid heat signature on the display refused to resolve itself any further. Though Vaughn was eclipsed by the swell of the ship between them, Sam could see Nog creeping along the top toward the bow.

The moment Sam had walked far enough to see the open hatch, he stepped back, looking for cover that might also offer a clear line of sight of the opening. Ten meters ahead was a conifer wide enough to conceal him. Counting to three in his head, he bolted for the tree, staying low, trying to avoid snapping twigs as he went.

Safely behind the tree, Sam leaned his back against it and peeked out. He spotted Vaughn waving to him from behind another tree, twenty meters north. Their positions allowed them to triangulate on the ship hatch. Perfect,Sam thought. Now all we need is Nog to bring up the rear….

Defiant’s chief engineer was progressing slowly across the top of the ship, but Sam couldn’t blame him for taking his time. Footsteps on the hull would alert the ship’s occupant too soon. Better that Nog be slow and silent than to make noise in haste.

Sam took a moment to recheck his tricorder. The heat signature was still there, moving only a little. It seemed to be sitting on its haunches.

Suddenly Sam heard the sound of sand skidding over metal. The heat signature grew brighter, and began moving inside the ship more alertly. Sam looked out, saw that Nog had frozen in his tracks above the hatch. His foot must have pushed against some loose soil on the hull. It was sliding off in a steady, noisy stream.

Dammit!

Sam looked questioningly at Vaughn, who nodded. Checking the setting on his phaser, Sam flattened himself against the tree and called out, “Attention occupant of the Dominion spacecraft. We’re from the United Federation of Planets. We mean you no harm, but we wish to speak with you.”

Ten seconds went by. Then twenty. Then thirty. No one came out. Sam looked at his tricorder again, resetting it to detect EM signatures. There was no indication of any power sources inside, which meant no energy weapons. The chances were good that if he approached, he wouldn’t be fired upon. On the other hand,he told himself, a bow and arrow or a slingshot wouldn’t show up either, and they could kill just as effectively as a phaser. There has to be a way to—

Movement. Something big and green shot out of the opening and flew straight toward the forest canopy, lost almost instantly among the forest green. It looked a little like a crane. No one fired.

Sam checked for life-signs inside the ship. Nothing.

Vaughn stepped out from behind his tree, scowling as he walked toward the opening, where Nog was already climbing down from off his perch.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I really thought it was humanoid,” Sam said, joining his shipmates.

“I was thisclose to shooting that thing,” Nog said. “What was it anyway? A bird?”

Vaughn shrugged. “Look on the bright side, Sam. You weren’t that far off. It was a biped.”

Sam smiled ruefully. “Coulda sworn there was something humanoid in there. But readings are clear now.”

“Then let’s check it out.” The commander tapped his combadge. “Vaughn to Defiant.”

“Dax here. Go ahead.”

“We’ve located Objective One, Lieutenant, and are proceeding inside.”

Nog was spooked.

It wasn’t even the wreckage of the Dominion ship that troubled him, although that had certainly had its share of creepiness. Moving through the smashed interior had been like navigating one of Uncle Quark’s pleasure mazes in the holosuites, except that the surprise in the center was something out of a nightmare instead of a dream come true.

Nothing on the ship worked, so they had only their wrist beacons to cut the gloom. In numerous places much of the vessel’s inner workings had broken through bulkheads, making a number of corridors impassable. Complicating matters was the tilt of the ship, which caused the decks to slope almost twenty degrees to starboard. Worse still, the hull plating topside must have ruptured, because steady trickles of water could be found in a number of places, streaming through much of the ship and completely flooding the lowermost decks below ground. The stench of decomposition wafted up through the deck plates into the upper levels, where small animals and fungi seemed to be thriving in the dark.

They had to cut their way into the bridge, which had been one deck above the level into which the away team first entered the vessel. Though the bridge seemed to have suffered less structural damage than the rest of the ship, it was by far the most grisly: Eight Jem’Hadar and one Vorta had fallen in a heap against the starboard side, presumably killed in the crash. Nog had spent several minutes just staring at a Jem’Hadar skull, feeling strangely numb.

As with the rest of the ship, nothing on the bridge functioned. Whatever secrets its databanks once contained were beyond recovery. But based on observations of the damage throughout the craft and tricorder readings they’d taken along the way, Nog and Bowers had agreed that the ship had most likely been shot down. Unfortunately, any residual energy left by the weapons used against the ship had long since dissipated, so it was impossible to say who their attacker had been. If it had indeed been a Federation starship, there was nothing here to prove it.

Vaughn seemed impatient, even restless. Having found nothing useful during their inspection of the wreckage, the commander told Nog and Bowers to complete their scans of the ship and to search the surrounding terrain for additional clues that might explain its fate. Vaughn would move on toward the source of the transponder signal alone. Bowers hadn’t liked that idea, and said so, but the commander made it clear it wasn’t open to discussion. That was when Nog’s anxiety began to escalate dramatically.

It was difficult to pinpoint, but the longer they walked, the more Nog became convinced that something wasn’t right with the forest. He felt like they weren’t alone, that something was nearby, watching them. Bowers had continued scanning for life-signs, but found nothing unexpected within range of his tricorder. The nearest of the larger creatures they’d detected from orbit was to the north, kilometers distant. Locally, there were only small lizardlike animals, dense plant life, and a few green-quilled avians like the one they’d seen earlier hopping among the treetops.

But something else was out there. Nog could feel it in his lobes. A presence…

“Sir,” Nog said to Bowers, “I think something is watching us.”

Bowers surveyed the terrain and frowned. He tapped his combadge. “Bowers to Defiant.”

“Dax here. Go ahead, Sam.”

“Lieutenant, anything new on sensors?”

“Negative. Atmospheric interference is still playing havoc with our scans.”

“How’s our transporter lock?”

There was pause on the other end. “Chao reports the locks are solid. Is anything wrong?”

“Not yet. But stand by. Bowers out.” He frowned and turned back to Nog. “How sure are you?”

Nog shrugged uncertainly. “It’s just a feeling,” he admitted.

Bowers seemed to consider that for a moment, then checked his tricorder one more time. “Still nothing. But let’s assume you’re right. What do you think you’re picking up on?”

Nog squinted his eyes and listened to the sounds of the planet. After a moment he shook his head and resumed scanning. “I’m not sure. I’m probably wrong. But I can’t shake the feeling that—” He stopped, staring at his tricorder.

“What is it?” Bowers asked.

“I’m picking up a large creature about two-hundred meters north,” Nog said. “One of the sauropods we detected from orbit.”

Bowers nodded and checked his phaser. “We’ll search elsewhere till it moves on. Keep track of it.”

“Sir,” Nog said, “that’s not the problem. When we scanned this area the nearest of its species was kilometers away. That animal didn’t wander in. It just appeared out of nowhere.”

Sam examined the tricorder log with a growing sense of disbelief. One second the forest area had appeared as normal. The next, as Nog had reported, the animal had simply appeared out of nowhere.

“A hundred and ninety meters,” Nog said, his voiced hushed. He was tracking the current position of the animal while Sam tried to ascertain its origins.

“Incredible,” Sam said.

“A hundred and ninety-five meters,” Nog said. “Staying within a range of two hundred ten and one hundred and seventy meters so far, sir.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

Nog took his eyes off the readout to look at him for a second.

“You know what makes no sense? That humanoid on the ship disappearing. The crane that flew out—now that came from nowhere. One hundred eighty meters.”

Sam replayed the animal’s appearance again.

“One-sixty.”

Bowers considered the situation.

“The humanoid disappeared, and then the crane appeared. When this animal appeared, there was a crane in the area…and itdisappeared.”

The animal had advanced to one hundred fifty meters, but Nog said nothing.

“I think it’s a changeling,” Bowers said quietly.

Nog nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“It must have been on the Jem’Hadar ship and survived the crash.”

Nog nodded again. “There was a Vorta among the dead on the ship,” he said. “They don’t always travel with the Jem’Hadar, but there’s usually one around a Founder. Should we notify the commander?”

Bowers hesitated. “We don’t have a lot to go on. And the commander…I don’t think he’d appreciate speculation right now.” He exchanged a look with Nog that said a lot more than either of them could voice aloud. The commander’s behavior on the mission had been unusual, and Bowers liked a certain amount of predictability in a senior officer. “We need more proof.”

“It must want something,” Nog said, tracking it again. “It’s risking detection every time it changes shape.” He looked up. “It’s definitely following us, sir. It’s at a hundred meters now.”

Bowers peered through the trees, but saw nothing through the dense forest. “It’s interested in us. That’s good.” Nog’s expression said clearly that he disagreed. “At least we don’t have to chase it across half the planet.”

“True.”

“On the other hand, I don’t think it’s going to walk up and submit to a blood test.”

Nog smiled. “Maybe not. But we know a phaser set at 3.5 should cause it to revert back into its liquid state—if it isa Founder.”

Sam shook his head. “We can’t just open fire on another life-form, even if it is a Founder. I don’t want to make an enemy of it.”

“The only way I can see to prove it’s a Founder is to force it to change form,” Nog argued. “We can’t do that without a phaser. Sir, if it’s been alone here for two years, it isstill our enemy. I mean, it must think it is.”

“Well, I’m not going to shoot it like a mad dog in the street,” Bowers said. “We’ll set a trap. When its curiosity gets the best of it, it’ll have no one to blame but itself.”

*  *  *

Nog scratched the back of his neck. The breeze was making him itchy, the forest smelled, and little noises were coming from all around—leaves shifting, animals moving among the branches, the cranes calling to one another in the distance. And now a Founder was out there, too.

According to the tricorder it was maybe sixty meters away, almost on top of the impromptu “base camp” he and Bowers had hastily assembled, and then just as hastily appeared to abandon. But not without leaving a phaser behind.

Assembling the trap hadn’t been difficult, but executing it might be. The phaser had been set to level 3.2, against Nog’s better judgment, and slaved to Bowers’s tricorder, so that it could be triggered remotely. It would force a Founder back into its gelatinous state without harming it. But the creature wouldn’t be stunned, either, and would undoubtedly take off into the woods.

Bowers insisted that curiosity would draw it back eventually, since it had been the only sentient creature on the planet for two years. Nog was also willing to bet it would come back, if only because this was a planet singularly lacking in opportunity. The riskier the road, the greater the profit.The thing to remember about other people’s profit was, it inevitably came at the expense of someone else. And that someone could easily be Nog.

Bowers tapped Nog’s shoulder and Nog jerked his attention back to the base camp. A large reptilian head had emerged from the thick forest growth and the rest of the animal quickly followed. From their vantage point up hill, the beast was smaller than Nog had expected—only five meters long, its midnight-blue hide covered in overlapping brown plates from nose to tail. Its four eyes surveyed its surroundings.

Nog watched as the creature advanced on the trap…

And…now!Bowers tapped the tricorder touchpad with more force than was really necessary and jerked forward with pent-up excitment. From below them came the faint whine of the modified phaser and the animal jerked, too. Abruptly the beast shrank and altered shape, changing into an a morphous mass of gelatinous amber before coalescing into a new form—not unlike a smaller, female version of Odo. In another flash the girl transformed into a crane and flung itself up, out of the clearing, and flew unsteadily to the east.

Bowers launched himself forward and scrambled down the hill, pushing against tree trunks and rocks as he went to keep himself from falling face-first in his haste. With Nog right behind him, he scooped up the phaser and ran back into the forest, trying to keep the crane in view. The branches and uneven terrain were much harder to navigate at high speed and he tripped, twice. Beside him Nog was having a hard time tracking the bird on his tricorder and running at the same time. They had barely gone forty meters and were already far behind.

“Vaughn to Bowers.”

“Bowers here. Go ahead.”

“Is Lieutenant Nog still with you?”

“Yes, sir. We found a survivor. It’s a changeling. We’re in pursuit—”

“Belay that. Lock on to my comm signal and get to my coordinates, on the double.”

“Sir?”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

Sam held back a sigh of frustration as he stared after the fleeing changeling. He looked at Nog, who shrugged helplessly. “Aye, sir,” Bowers said finally. “We’re on our way.”

Sam saw Vaughn from the top of the ridge. The commander was standing in the middle of a ravine, staring up at a cliff face where the ravine ended abruptly.

Wait a minute,Sam thought, looking at the details of the trench for the first time. The sides were far two straight and uniform to be natural. All these young trees, this recent growth…none of it can be more than two years old. This isn’t a ravine at all. It’s a meteoric furrow! Something fell here from space!

With Nog following, Bowers ran along the ridge toward an eroded slope where they could make their way down to Vaughn.

As they approached, Sam saw for the first time what held Vaughn’s attention so completely. Something was buried in the cliff face.

“Oh, my God…”

Bowers’s voice was scarcely a whisper as he and Nog stopped when they reached the floor of the furrow behind the commander.

“At least now we know who brought down the Dominion ship,” Vaughn said without turning. “But it cost them.”

Gray metal plating covered uniformly with black conduits, metal struts and branching filaments, the hull of the fallen spacecraft faced them from its earthen tomb, silently testifying to the Gamma Quadrant’s newest invaders.

The Borg.