Star Trek: Terok Nor 02: Night of the Wolves (37 page)

The formation was broken now, with only Nerissa still pulling straight down in a determined line. “Good girl,” Lenaris muttered, and hoped she’d have the wherewithal to take out any more missiles by herself.

He set his ship back into a nosedive, and another missile came after Sten’s ship, which had veered far off to the side, swooping back almost into its original course. Sten managed to steer the missile away from the others, and Jau took it out before it got too close.

Nerissa dropped her explosives pack and a cloud of fiery orange debris came billowing up from the base below them, her raider riding the wake of it. Lenaris pulled up to avoid the blast front, trying to tap in a code to the other ships—
proceed with formation.
But only Sten seemed to have gotten the transmission, for the others were still flying in erratic confusion.

Lenaris decided he could pay them no mind, and continued on with the task at hand, plummeting toward the surface and ejecting the load of explosives just a few
kellipate
s above the military ships that he could now see, lined up in neat rows. He pulled his flight yoke abruptly to his chest and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as the force of the movement pinned him to his seat. The blast erupted behind him, and his ship twisted violently in the sky before he could straighten it out again. Another blast followed, and he knew that one of the others had dropped his load as well. Three out of six wasn’t bad, though he hoped at least one more could manage to let loose its ordnance

He set his course back for Jeraddo, aiming at a sharp, upward angle, getting plenty of distance between his ship and the base before checking his transponder to see who was still with him. Three shuttles limped behind him, the fourth having straggled somewhere out of atmospheric range. Legan Duravit, Ornathia Nerissa, and Ornathia Sten. Jau’s signal was gone.

Numb, Lenaris started to turn back, but his transponder indicated another ship in the vicinity—a skimmer. In fact, two skimmers. No, he checked again, and now there were four, and they were headed straight for him. He increased his speed to sub-impulse and straightened out his trajectory. He would not be leaving the atmosphere just yet, not until after he’d worn these spoonheads out. He checked his transponder one more time for Jau, but his brother’s raider was still nowhere within range, and Holem didn’t have time to consider it.

“Follow the leader,” Lenaris breathed, and dove suddenly back down toward the trees.

L
aren walked at a rapid pace, her legs working to keep up with the longer strides of the men. Keeve was escorting Darrah Mace to his ship, and Bram was close behind. Darrah was giving out the particulars as they walked.

“You’re going to need environmental suits,” Darrah said.

“Suits!” Bram said, looking flustered. “I thought this was a simple job!”

Laren was thinking much the same thing.

Mace nodded. “It is simple,” he said tersely. “Once we get her into the facility, it’ll be a simple in-and-out. But Valo VI has no breathable atmosphere—”

“Valo VI?” Bram interrupted. “I always thought there were only five planets in this system.”

“Valo VI is barely a planet,” Mace replied. “It’s somewhere between a dwarf planet and an asteroid.”

“The facility is on an asteroid?” Bram looked flabbergasted.

“It will be fine,” Laren said quickly, looking to Mace for confirmation.

Darrah nodded. “The facility is underneath a beam-shield. You can’t be transported directly inside. That’s why you’ll need the suits.”

“What are the Cardassians doing there?” Laren inquired.

“Well, we don’t know, of course,” Darrah replied. “But we’re hoping to catch them at something that will bring in the Federation.”

“Why don’t you just kill them?” Laren said. “Who cares what they’re doing?”

“Laren!” Bram said sharply.

“It’s all right,” Keeve said to Bram. He addressed Laren, his tone shifting toward condescension. “I understand why you might feel that way. But you have to remember that everything is interconnected. It’s like Torasia’s sixteenth prophecy: ‘You can cut down the tree, but the roots still hold fast to the rain.’”

Laren made a face. “What does that have to do with anything?” she said. “Those prophecies are all a lot of gibberish.”

“Laren!”
Bram grabbed her by the shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. “I’ve had enough of your blasphemy, your disrespect!” He took a swipe at her, caught her earring in his hand, and flung it to the ground. “You aren’t fit to wear that,” he told her, snarling.

Keeve waved his hands. “She has to make her own peace with the Prophets,” he told Bram. “You can’t do it for her.”

Bram released her, and she rubbed her shoulder where he’d grabbed her, feeling angry, but mostly surprised. Bram had never put his hands on her like that before. She bent down to pick up her earring. The fleshy part of her ear burned where the ornament had been torn away, and she looked at the chained bits of metal in her hand. It was an old and silly tradition, but this was something of her father’s. She put the earring back in her pocket, not looking at anyone.

“We need to do this,” Darrah said, clearly uncomfortable.

Bram nodded. “Come on, Laren,” he said gruffly, as much an apology as Ro could ever expect to get.

It was a short trip in the high-powered ship Mace flew. Bram and Laren spent most of it getting acclimated to the cumbersome suits they would have to wear. They were old and smelled thickly of the dust of Valo II, having been in a storage locker somewhere at the planet’s shipyards. Finding one that could be easily adjusted to Laren’s small frame was a challenge. Laren had been impatient to get started, but once they were actually in orbit of the tiny, irregularly shaped planet, her confidence began to ebb, not for the job itself, but for the unsettling novelty of the transporter beam. To her, it was the worst part of the mission, and she was eager to get it over and done with.

Darrah explained the properties of the transporter and gave her a little communications device that could be tapped to hail him back on the ship so that he could transport her back to safety again, but once she was beneath the beam-shield, the transporter beam would not reach her, and she would have nothing but her own senses to rely on. Of course, this would normally be nothing new to Laren, but on an unfamiliar asteroid in a musty-smelling environmental suit that inhibited her freedom of movement, the rules seemed to have changed a bit.

Darrah had said he would do his best to transport them within walking distance of the facility, but when Laren found herself crouched in the middle of unfamiliar terrain, her visibility limited behind the mask of her environmental suit, she at first thought Mace must have made a terrible mistake. There was nothing anywhere in her line of sight, just rocks and misty blackness, but after a half-second of disoriented searching, she found Bram somewhere off to her side, and he gestured to something behind them.

Behind me.
The facility was only a few paces away, in the opposite direction of where she had been facing. She followed Bram as he scouted around the perimeter of the glinting shield. The shield was dome-shaped, translucent in the misty atmosphere. The buildings beneath it appeared as sprawling, squat boxes. She could not see any feasible way to get inside, until Bram pointed out to her an innocuous passageway with a simple keypad device to admit travelers.

A voice crackled in Laren’s head and she started at the odd effect of the radio inside her environmental helmet; it was Darrah, back on the ship.
“Laren? Bram?”

“We’re here,” Laren said, almost in unison with Bram.

“Good,”
Darrah replied.
“Do you see the facility?”

“Yes,” Laren said. “There’s just the one passageway, like you said.”

“Can you bypass it?”

“Yup,” Laren said without hesitation.

“Good. Now, remember. There are usually only two or three Cardassians in there at a time, according to our scans. They have minimum security detail, and only one soldier patrols while the others sleep. There is one soldier awake in there right now, according to the schedule we’ve logged. He should be in the back part of the building, where we think the center of operations must be. You will have to find a console to hack the system. If you can reconnect the security loop quickly enough, you can just slip out, we’ll take off, and they’ll never even know we were here.”

“You think you can handle it, Laren?”
Bram was sounding much friendlier now than he had back on Valo II, probably out of guilt for being so mean, or maybe because he was about to let her go straight into a nest of grass vipers.

“Of course I can,” she said stoutly.

“Well, you’ve never lacked confidence,”
Bram said, his voice hollow in her earpiece, and the figure in the suit next to her drew its phaser.
“I’ll cover you. The minute anything goes wrong—”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” she assured him, her own voice echoing oddly inside the curved plastic of her visor. “This is the easiest job I’ve ever seen. I could do this with my eyes closed.”

“Well, then…”

Laren knew about thirty Cardassian override codes by heart, but she didn’t want to take the chance that this system would shut down once two or more incorrect codes were entered consecutively. She’d do better to just hack her way straight inside, and that would also probably disable any security systems that alerted the inhabitants of the facility that anyone was here. Her hands clumsy in the imprecise gloves of her environmental suit, she used the edge of a spanner to pry open the security panel. With the same spanner, she separated a thick wire from the bundle that revealed itself behind the panel. From a pocket in her suit, she retrieved a pair of spring-loaded snips and clipped a few specific wires. The door opened obediently, and she stepped inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, it closed behind her, and she headed down the short, glassy corridor, sealing her in from the strange terrain outside. Her breathing inside the helmet sounded noisy and labored.

As she approached a second door, she found another panel imprinted with a Cardassian insignia—the same sort of inverted-teardrop sigil she had seen on many pieces of Cardassian equipment. It mimicked the shape of some of their ships, a fan tapering down into a two-pronged blunt spade at the bottom. This one, however, was a bit different. The bottom looked not so much like a spade as a tail, the whole thing appearing as some kind of ugly, poisonous sea creature. Usually she had seen only the outline of this sigil, but this one was filled in with a pale green, drifting to purple at the top. It looked ominous, and her thoughts wandered to things supernatural—the Fire Caves, Pah-wraiths, and angry
borhyas.
She pushed that foolishness away and went about her business.

With the spanner, she punched in a universal encryption sequence at the keypad, and then punched in another, and another. Cardassian passcodes never had more than seven characters, at least none that she had seen. But this one—it was different. She began to feel the finest sliver of worry as she tried another sequence. What was different about this facility? She looked again at the colorful insignia near the door and began to wonder if she wasn’t dealing with something a little different from the Cardassian soldiers who tromped around Bajor like automatons.

It was then that she noticed it—faint through the sounds of her own echoed breathing in the spacesuit, but it was there—a discernible clicking noise in her earpiece, as though she were being timed. Shaken, she began to move faster. She had encountered this type of alarm before. If she failed to enter the correct code before the countdown concluded, the system would shut down. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she should probably assume that it wasn’t much.

After a few feverish moments, she thought she had it. She separated another wire and used her snips to clip a few strands. An arc of electricity spit menacingly before fizzling out, and she released a breath. The door slid noiselessly open, and she stepped inside.

She removed her helmet and gloves and took a deep breath, but the heat in the facility quickly made her feel sluggish. She stuffed the gloves into the helmet and tucked it under her arm, looking around for a computer console and fingering the datarod in the pocket of her heavy suit. She found a console not far inside the building, and, trying to be as stealthy as she could in her clunky attire, she quickly began to hack into the system. She had to hunt and peck at the Cardassian characters on the keyboard. She could read Cardassian letters somewhat, but only piecemeal, one at a time, and she struggled to hurry as she murmured the phonetic sounds under her breath.

She jammed the datarod into a port and waited while the download ran. She entered a code to shield the activity from anyone else who might be in the compound, but stopped tapping as she became aware of a sound.
Voices.

She plucked the datarod from its port and crouched down below the console, peering just over the edge to see what was going on. She was shocked to see a Cardassian emerge from a doorway built into the floor, and he was talking to someone below him. How could that be? Mace had said that there was only one soldier awake right now, and he was in the other wing of the building. How had he overlooked these two? Could there be a shield that protected them from scans, maybe an underground bunker where they could not be detected? Laren hunkered down further below the console, wondering if she should contact Bram or just try to slip out on her own. The Cardassians had not been wearing armor, he should be easy enough to shoot, if she had to…

She peered over the edge of the console again, and what she saw next stopped her heart in her throat. The second man who had come from below looked…different from most of the Cardassians she had seen in her life. It was his hair. It was not the same tarry black that the vast majority of spoonheads had been endowed with; no, by some quirk of natural selection, this man’s slick hair was a dusty, golden color. A color that Laren had seen on a Cardassian only one other time in all her life. She checked again to ensure that it was true. Of course, it was possible that there was more than one blond Cardassian in the galaxy…but no, this was the one. This was the man who had killed her father.

“Varc,” the dark-haired one said to him, to the murderer. “Come here and look at this. The backup security loop is doing something odd.”

“What do you mean, odd?” The light-haired soldier peered at his companion’s console.

“It looks like there’s a breach out there.”

Laren clutched at her phaser. Four soldiers she had killed since joining the resistance. She was about to make it six. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a breath—and then she sprang up from her hiding place, phaser at the ready. The resultant flash was blinding, and the first man caught it full in the chest. He flew back, crashing into the light-haired one and pinning him to the console behind him. Ro rushed forward without quite realizing what she was doing, to jam the weapon directly in the face of the man who had taken so much from her.

“You!” she shouted, her voice shaking.

The blond Cardassian was shaking off the blast. “What?” he said blearily, but he could say no more, for Laren squeezed the trigger, and then she turned and ran for her life.

Dukat was in ops, looking over the security logs, when Basso approached him. He gave the Bajoran a look that conveyed it was a bad time, but Basso was impatient to speak, and he did so despite the prefect’s unspoken command.

“Sir, it’s about the Kira family…”

Dukat quickly gestured Basso up the short platform to his office, herding him inside. When the door was closed, he turned to him.