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CHAPTER
1

THE ALIEN SHIP came in hot and fast, popping out of
the wormhole like a champagne cork from a bottle,
the strange, smooth hull as blue as the eerie, swirling
discharge of the wormhole itself.
Display screens in the operations area of the station
called Deep Space Nine lit with warning sensor
readouts--ship's surface temperature 3500 degrees
Celsius, radiation output well into the lethal range for
all known humanoid life-forms, velocity a respectable
fraction of the speed of light.
At the science workstation of the main operations
table, Lieutenant Jadzia Dax scanned the messages
quickly, displaying no sign of surprise.
Dax was a Trill--a merged being. Her outward
appearance was that of an attractive, dark-haired
young woman, indistinguishable from a humanoid
being save for an odd mottling of her skin along the
sides of her head, and the Jadzia half of her was




exactly that--but the other half, hidden inside her,
was an ancient creature, a sexless wormlike being
three centuries old that had learned to be surprised by
very little.
A neutrino surge had provided a warning that
something was coming through the wormhole, but
until the alien had actually appeared Dax had as-
sumed that the new arrival would simply be a recent
Ferengi trade mission returning ahead of schedule.
Given that that particular Ferengi captain's plans had
struck Dax as being hopelessly optimistic, she had
rather expected an early return.
This ship, whatever it was, was not the Ferengi
trader she had expected. It was completely unantici-
pated, and totally unfamiliar in design.
Dax looked up from the panel and saw that Com-
mander Benjamin Sisko, the station's top authority,
and Major Kira Nerys, his second-in-command, were
still closeted in Sisko's office, arguing vehemently
about the latest crisis in relations between the
Bajorans and the Cardassian Empire.
Dax therefore took it upon herself to scan the alien
vessel thoroughly without consulting the station's
harried commander. Benjamin didn't need the added
headache just now.
The Dax part of the Trill had known Benjamin
Sisko in its previous symbiosis, when it had been not
Jadzia but Curzon Dax, and it knew Sisko to be a good
man, a strong and intelligent man--but one who let
his responsibilities weigh heavily on him. She had no
desire to add to that burden.
Dax scanned the reports with practiced ease. No
life-forms were aboard the intruder, according to her
readings--but that flood of hard radiation was inter-
fering enough that she couldn't be sure those readings

were correct. The object was coasting, not moving
under power; perhaps it wasn't a ship at all, despite its
appearance and velocity. It wasn't responding to the
station's hailwbut then, if there were no life-forms
aboard, that was hardly surprising.
If it was a derelict, some bit of space junk that had
fallen into the wormhole by accident, it might be
interesting to take a good close look at it. It might call
for a study team when Dax, as Deep Space Nine's
science officer, had the time to spare from her regular
duties--as she did not just now, since she was com-
mitted to a conference with the personnel of an
Ashtarian expedition to the Gamma Quadrant, just as
soon as her shift in Ops was over. There was some sort
of problem about allowing the Ashtarian ship through
the wormhole, one that the station's technical crew
had been unable to resolve.
Dax doubted that the problem, whatever it was,
would prove as interesting as studying this mysterious
new arrival, but the Ashtarians were impatient, and
there was no need for any great hurry in dealing with
the unknown object.
At least, not if it was going to drift on harmlessly,
but she couldn't take that for granted.
Dax touched controls to call up a plot of the new
arrival's path, and discovered that if left to itself, and
assuming it was actually powerless and wouldn't
change course on its own, the object would cross into
Cardassian space within hours.
That changed things. Given the present rather tense
political situation, anything that would involve the
Cardassians, even peripherally, was important enough
that Commander Sisko had to hear about it.
Dax had a strong suspicion that Commander Benja-
min Sisko did not want to hear anything more about

3




Cardassians, but really, he had little choice in the
matter. She tapped her communicator badge.

Benjamin Sisko glowered down at Major Kira.
Ordinarily he found her pleasant enough to look at,
with her reddish hair and almost-human features. Her
ridged nose and clan earring provided an interestingly
exotic touch.
Just now, though, all he could see was her damnable
Bajoran stubbornness.
That stubbornness might have helped the Bajorans
survive the long Cardassian occupation of their plan-
ets, but it still wasn't any joy to deal with.
"Major," he said for the third time, "I refuse to
start a war between the Cardassians and the Federa-
tion."
"I'm not asking for a war!" Kira shouted at him.
She realized how wild she sounded, caught herself,
clenched her teeth to regain control, then said, with
rigid calm, "I am only asking that you stop these
incursions."
"And do you really think that I can do that without
starting a war?" Sisko demanded.
"Yes!" Kira shouted. "Maybe," she added, before
Sisko could reply.
"Major," Sisko said, "I would like to oblige you,
and I agree that the Cardassians have no legitimate
business making these sorties into Bajoran space, but
so far their ships have done no harm. They have not
fired a shot. They have not landed on Bajoran terri-
tory."
"Done no harm!"
"Not deliberately," Sisko amended.
"But they've intruded on Bajoran space!"
"'Where, under the terms of the agreement they

made with both the Federation and the Bajoran
provisional government," Sisko reminded her, "they
have the right of passage so long as they obey interstel-
lar law."
"That agreement was designed to give them access
to the wormhole and Gamma Quadrant, Command-
er; it wasn't to allow them to terrorize Bajor. And with
the Defiant off at--"
"Nonetheless," Sisko interrupted, "they have re-
mained within the letter of that agreement, and while
they have undoubtedly violated Bajoran statutes, they
have so far obeyed interstellar law."
"And is it obeying the law to cruise over our cities at
rooftop level, running high-intensity sensor scans of
every building and vehicle?" Kira demanded. "Be-
cause that's exactly what they've been doing!"
Sisko frowned, and Kira pressed her momentary
advantage. "Commander, they've shorted out pre-
cious equipment with their sensors, they've terrified
innocent people .... I don't think you appreciate
what it's like for us to see Cardassian ships overhead."
"Perhaps..." Sisko began, but Kira cut him off.
She wasn't finished speaking.
"We all lived under the Cardassian occupation,"
she said. "Some of us grew up in their relocation
camps, or worked for them as slaves. Some of us saw
our families tortured or killed there. Some of us
remember all too well when those ships were collect-
ing prisoners instead of information, and using
phasers instead of sensors. Seeing those ships in the
sky brings back all those memories, Commanderin
it's not as if these were Federation ships, or some
other civilization's; they're Cardassian, and that
means something very definite, and very terrible, to
every Bajoram So far there hasn't been any wholesale

4 5




panic or rioting, but it's only a matter of time. And the
Cardassians have no right there!"
"It's a violation of Bajoran airspace, yes..." Sisko
began, trying to calm his first officer.
"It's not a mere violation, Commander! It's a calcu-
lated attack, a campaign of terror!"
Sisko's expression, which he had tried to keep
carefully noncommittal up to that point, hardened
into something harsher. What Major Kira said was
largely true, and it was quite clear that the Car-
dassians were being deliberately provocative, but he
could not allow Bajoran patriotic fervor to drag the
Federation into an unnecessary conflict.
This improvised situation he had been thrust into,
where a Federation commander ran a Cardassian-
built station now owned by Bajor, was a constant
invitation to trouble, and Sisko wondered, not for the
first time, how the Federation Council could ever have
thought it was a good idea.
Of course, if not for the Federation presence, some
trigger-happy Bajoran terrorist would probably have
started a war of revenge by now, and in retaliation the
Cardassians would have wiped out the Bajorans once
and for all.
Major Kira was not particularly trigger-happy, and
was no longer a terrorist, but at the moment she
seemed determined to start a war anyway.
That might well be exactly what the Cardassians
,wanted. Maybe they thought that if they could pro-
voke a Bajoran attack on them, the Federation would
not defend Bajor from the inevitable counterattack.
Or maybe, far more frighteningly, the Cardassians
thought they were ready to take on the Federation.
"Major, it is not an attack," Sisko said. "Not from
the Cardassians' point of view, nor from the Federa-

tion's. It is a violation of agreements, yes, and it will
be dealt withinbut through the proper diplomatic
channels, with a demand for an apology and a further
demand for reparations for any damages. Using this
station or Federation ships to shoot down the intrud-
ers, or to launch a counter-raid into Cardassian space,
as you suggest, is out of the question."
"This station is Bajoran..." Kira began.
Sisko's communicator chirped, and he held up a
hand as Dax's voice said, "Dax to Sisko."
"Sisko here," he said, as he tapped the badge.
"My apologies for interrupting, Commander,"
Dax's voice said, "but we have an intruder..."
"Another Cardassian?" Kira asked quickly.
"No, from the wormhole," Dax replied. "The de-
sign is unfamiliar. It emerged approximately three
minutes ago, and is headed for Cardassian space."
Sisko glanced quickly at Major Kira; for an instant
he had an irrational suspicion that this was her doing,
that somehow she had arranged for this ship to pop
out of the wormhole as part of a scheme to retaliate
against the Cardassians.
The idea was absurd on the face of it--but she had
been a part of the Bajoran resistance; she might still
have contacts within the remaining underground
groups, the terrorists who hadn't dared surface when
the Cardassians had left and the provisional govern-
ment was formed.
But an alien ship appearing from the wormhole--
surely that was beyond anything the Khon-ma or
others of their ilk could arrange! It had to be a coincidence.
It was a damnably annoying one, though.
"Is it a Tosk vessel, by any chance?" he asked. That,
at least, would be a known quantity; the station's first

6 7




visitor from Gamma Quadrant had been trouble-
some, mostly through ignorance, but in the end no
serious harm to the station or Bajor had come of it.
Other arrivals from the wormhole had presented no
great difficulties as yet.
"No, sir--totally unfamiliar. Sensors indicate no
life-forms aboard." "A derelict?"
"Or a missile," Kira suggested.
Sisko threw her an angry glance. "I'11 be right
there," he announced; he headed for the door of his
office.
The door opened directly into the Operations
Center--the Cardassians who built the station had
considered that a basic element of efficient design.
Sometimes Sisko wished they hadn't been quite so
efficient; having a few steps to gather his thoughts,
without being in full view of the Ops crew, would have
been welcome.
The Cardassian designers had also been irrationally
~fond of steps. While putting the prefect's office--now
the station commander's office--on a higher level, to
symbolically emphasize his authority, might be an
interesting concept, Sisko did get tired of climbing up
and down the short flight every time he wanted to go
anywhere.
And the steps to the transporter pad and the
turbolifts seemed downright silly. He supposed they
were intended to keep people from accidentally step-
ping into the lift or the transporter while the devices
were operating, but still...
Well, no one had ever said the Cardassians thought
like humans. Anyone who looked at the way they had
laid out the station's interiors, at the odd curves and
peculiar angles and dull colors, would know the

Cardassian sense of aesthetics was different from
anything human.
The station's design worked adequately, though.
And putting Ops at the top of the station's central core
was good sense, as was arranging Ops around a central
operations table where all the essential services
worked side by side.
Dax looked up at him from the operations table,
and stepped aside so he could see the readouts for
himself.
Major Kira watched the station commander march
down the steps into Ops, but took a moment to
compose herself before following.
Bajor's lost religious leader, Kai Opaka, had told
her that she had to move beyond her violent past, and
she was trying to do that. She wanted to appear calm
and reasonable. She wanted to appear as logical as a
Vulcan.
For one thing, emotional pleas didn't seem very
effective on the big, dark-skinned Earthman.
It was hard not to give in to emotion, though. Even
the Kai would have seen that here. This was a return
of the bad old days, and Kira had to fight to resist the
bad old ways.
She was trying hard, but didn't seem to be able to
make Sisko understand--her people were under at-
tack. Her people, the rightful owners of this station,
were being harassed by their old enemies, their former
self-appointed masters, the people who had blithely
killed any Bajoran who inconvenienced them.
This time the Cardassians weren't shooting anyone,
they weren't landing, or taking slaves, or killing--yet.
But they were Cardassians. And they were back in
Bajoran space. That was enough; that was intolerable.
Maybe the Federation thought a formal protest was




enough of a response, but Kira's entire upbringing
told her otherwise. If the Cardassians weren't stopped
now, it would take a full-scale war to stop them, she
was sure of it. Just sitting back and letting them do as
they pleased would only encourage them; only a show
of force, strong enough that they would respect it
without being intimidating enough to frighten them
or destructive enough to anger them, would stop
them.
The Bajoran provisional government wasn't doing
a damn thing about ih of course; they just debated
endlessly, going nowhere. Half of them were terrified
that any action would bring the Cardassians back, and
the other half didn't dare do anything without Federa-
tion support.
And meanwhile people were being hurt, both physi-
cally and spiritually.
She had to make Sisko see that. He was an Earth-
man, not a Bajoran, but there had to be some way to
force him to understand how important this was. She
had to convince him to bring in Federation starships.
This thing from the wormhole was just a distrac-
tion; the Cardassians were what mattered. The sooner
the intruder was dealt with, the better.
Her expression artificially calm, she walked down
the steps into Ops, a few paces behind Sisko.

CHAPTER
2

"TaACTOR B~AMS," Sisko ordered, as he watched the
alien ship on the main viewer. "Bring it in."
"Sir, it's highly radioactive," Dax pointed out. She
was back at her own station at the operations table.
"It should be safe enough at the end of upper
docking pylon two," Sisko said. "Or would you rather
we let it continue on into Cardassian space?"
Dax didn't answer; instead she tapped at the
tractor-beam controls. Chief Miles O'Brien, alert but
calm, and Dr. Julian Bashir, excited and nervous, had
arrived in Ops a moment earlier; now both men
watched over the Trill's shoulder, studying the
readouts on the alien ship.
"Locked on," Dax reported. "Bringing it in. Still no
signs of life or power aboard."
"This might be a trick," Kira said as she came up
behind Sisko. "A trap of some kind." "Oh?" Sisko said, turning.
"It might be a Cardassian construct," Kira insisted.




"Some sort of weapon or booby trap. And we're
bringing it right here to the station. There could
be something aboard--a tailored virus, even a simple
bomb big enough to wreck the station, and if any-
one protests that, the Cardassians will just shrug and
say it's a part of the dangers out here. And meanwhile
the wormhole and the entire Bajoran system will be
sitting here unguarded, waiting for them to move in."
"And how would the Cardassians have managed
this?" Sisko asked. "Dax saw that ship emerge from
the wormhole; I doubt the Cardassians are operating
munitions factories in Gamma Quadrant."
"But how do we know that they aren't?"
"Because we've watched every ship that's passed
through, Major," Sisko replied wearily. "You know
that as well as I do. And there certainly hasn't been
time for any Cardassian ship to have reached the
Gamma Quadrant without passing through the worm-
hole."
Since the Gamma Quadrant was at the far side of
the galaxy, seventy years away in normal space for
even the fastest starship, that was inarguable, but
Major Kira did not look convinced, and Sisko sup-
pressed a sigh.
She was obsessed with the Cardassians. That was
hardly surprising, given her background, and usually
she kept it under control, but during this latest
crisis...
It would be helpful, Sisko thought, if they actually
knew just what was going on in the Cardassian
Empire that had prompted the raids into Bajoran
space. The Cardassians had behaved themselves for
months, after all, and now there were these sudden
intrusionswnot attacks, Major Kira's opinion not-
withstanding, but what appeared to be searches of

some kind. Something must have happened to cause
them.
Rumors had reached Deep Space Nine, in the form
of bits of talk over the subspace communication
bands, or impressions picked up from passing travel-
ers. There were the rumors, and a few fragmentary
reports, but so far, despite requests for information
from Starfleet, nothing more than that.
The reports and rumors were consistent, though.
Some sort of political crisis was going on on
Cardassia, and that was somehow responsible for the
intrusions.
To Sisko it didn't seem to make much sense, but it
all seemed to have started with the death of a rising
young politician named Kag Duzek. Within hours of
the first reports of his death there had been
Cardassian ships cruising through Bajoran space, and
before long they were approaching the Bajoran worlds
in a series of ever-bolder incursions.
Starfleet had been informed immediately, and had
promptly relayed what information they had in their
computers that hadn't been classified as secret--but
Sisko, after looking those transmissions over, was
fairly certain no human being had bothered to look at
them before they were sent, as they were so vague and
incomplete as to be useless.
And beyond sending the data, Starfleet had as yet
done nothing about the intrusionsmand Major Kira
blamed him, Commander Benjamin Sisko, Starfleet's
local representative, for that inaction. She wanted him
to stop the raids now.
Although just how he could do that, what she
expected him to do...
His thoughts were interrupted by Dax.
"Docking complete, Commander. I've raised the




emergency blast shields around the airlock; the ship
appears stable, but the radiation levels are very high."
"Good work, old man."
Sisko noticed Dax smiling slightly at that, and knew
that it was because no one else on Deep Space Nine
thought of her as anything but a young woman; only
he had known her during her previous symbiosis.
"Commander, I'd like permission to board the alien
vessel and take a look around," the Trill added.
Sisko glanced at her, startled.
"This is a great opportunity, sir," Dax explained.
"That ship is our first contact with a new culture."
Sisko thought, but did not say, that at this particular
station that was not especially unusual. This unique
access to the Gamma Quadrant that the wormhole
provided had already brought about several first con-
tacts.
"It's also deadly, isn't it?" he said.
"Obviously, I will take all necessary precautions,"
she said.
Sisko supposed that Dax couldn't have lived for
three centuries without learning some elementary
caution. If any of them would be safe aboard the alien
vessel, she would.
"Sir," O'Brien said, "I'd like to accompany Lieu-
tenant Dax, if I may. The engineering on that
ship..."
Sisko interrupted him, before he could complete the
sentence, to ask, "Do we know for certain whether
there's anything aboard, other than the radiation, that
might be dangerous?"
"The sensors show no life-forms," Dax said, "but
the radiation may be blocking our readings."
"And of course we have no way of knowing about
any purely mechanical devices there might be,"
O'Brien added. "But all the same, sir..."

14

"There may be injured beings aboard," Dr. Bashir
interrupted.
That decided it. "You will all wear Full protective
gear and carry phasers," Sisko said. "Stay together at
all times; assume the ship is hostile."
"Yes, sir/" Dr. Bashit answered, smiling.
Sisko watched the three of them hurry to the
transporter platform, Dax moving with calm grace,
O'Brien with brisk efficiency, and Bashir with reckless
speed, and he sighed. He glanced at Major Kira, but
she was reading a display at the science station and
showed no sign of resuming the argument this new
arrival had interrupted.
That was just as well; it gave him a chance to do a
little more research. He really needed to know what
was going on on Cardassia, and his only solid clue was
a single name that had cropped up twice in the
Starfleet reports. Until now he had been too busy to
check on it, but perhaps it was time to give it a higher
priority.
He stepped to his own workstation at the operations
table. There, with practiced ease, he brought up
everything the station's computer had on file about
Kag Duzek.





CHAPTER
3

THE SHIP'S DESIGN was completely unfamiliar, but
Miles O'Brien thought he knew an emergency manual
release when he saw it, and that was what he found
just to the left of the airlock's outer door.
The airlock was built into a sort of niche in the
ship's side in such a way that the outer hatch faced
directly forward, oriented so that what appeared to be
the top was pointed toward the ship's long axis, while
the bottom was toward the ship's outer circumfer-
ence. That, combined with the general shape and
appearance of the vessel and the results of the scans he
had run on it, had convinced O'Brien that the aliens
did not have artificial gravity aboard, but instead had
rotated the ship, so that centrifugal force would serve
as an adequate substitute for gravity.
That was a fairly primitive solution to the problem,
and in general the ship did not appear terribly ad-
vanced.
That was something of a disappointment; the possi-

bility of discovering some major improvement on
Federation technology was one of the lures of any
first-contact work.
The door itself was low and wide, slanted forward,
the sides sloping in to form a trapezoid; O'Brien had
never quite figured out why so many starfaring races
used trapezoidal doorways, but he had long ago
become accustomed to it.
This particular doorway, though, was only a little
over a meter high, and almost three meters wide at the
bottom, which would obviously not suit humans at
all; O'Brien therefore suspected that this vessel's
builders had not been even remotely humanoid.
And whether they were humanoid or not in their
general build, the grip on the emergency release
certainly wasn't designed for human hands; a tentacle
would have fit it better than the armored gauntlet of
O'Brien's radiation suit.
He almost sprained his wrist discovering that the
release ratcheted back and forth along a ninety-degree
arc, rather than turning steadily, but after a moment
he got the hang of cranking it. With each tug the door
slid down, centimeter by centimeter, into its slot in
the ship's blue ceramic outer hull.
When the seat first broke and the ship's atmosphere
spilled into the station airlock, the temperature read-
out at the top of O'Brien's faceplate almost immedi-
ately registered the rush of hot gas from the ship's own
airlock, and alarm lights indicated toxic elements. His
suit's climate control prevented him from feeling or
smelling a thing, though; he had to rely on the gauges.
On the other hand, O'Brien thought he could al-
most feel Dr. Bashir's impatient breath on his back as
he worked the lever. He knew that was impossible
through their bulky protective suits, but the doctor's
eagerness was so obvious that it was painful to see.

16 17




Someday, O'Brien thought, that lad is going to get
himself killed if he doesn't learn to rein in his
enthusiasm. He was like a cocker pup tripping over his
own ears.
O'Brien paused to adjust his grip on the uncomfort-
able handle, and Dr. Bashir proceeded to duck down
and squeeze head and shoulders through the narrow
opening.
"Hey!" O'Brien protested.
Bashir paid him no attention whatsoever, and with
a suppressed sigh O'Brien resumed cranking.
A moment later the three of them crouched in the
airlock, unable to stand upright in the confined space;
the chamber was unlit, and their own bodies blocked
the light from the station's docking airlock, making it
impossible to see the controls until O'Brien turned on
the lamp on his helmet.
When he did, something whirred, and pinkish light
sprang up. O'Brien glanced quickly at Dax. She seemed unperturbed.
Dr. Bashir, however, started at the sudden illumina-
tion and stared about wildly.
"It seems that she's not totally dead," O'Brien
remarked calmly.
"The sensors reported at least partial function in
several systems," Dax replied.
"So I might've saved myself some work with that
damned lever if I'd known what button to push,"
O'Brien said.
"Possibly," Dax acknowledged. "But your ap-
proach was unquestionably safer, Chief."
"But if the machinery is working, surely this must
be the cycle control," Dr. Bashir called, pressing a
large red button beside the inner door before either of
the others could move to protest.
O'Brien bit off a shout as the outer door slid

upward, sealing them into the pink-lit chamber. The
lad might well get several people killed, at this rate,
but the damage was done, and there was no use in
yelling at him, any more than there would be in yelling
at a puppy. O'Brien unclipped his phaser from his tool
belt and held it ready.
The airlock did seem to be cycling normally, but
O'Brien couldn't resist commenting. "Dr. Bashir," he
said, a bit wearily, "you're a doctor, not a first-contact
specialist. It's quite obvious that you haven't met any
of the galaxy's more paranoid inhabitants. Among the
xenophobes of Darius Eleven, a big, obvious control
like that is wired to an explosive of at least a ten-
kiloton yield."
O'Brien watched through the faceplate as Bashir
blinked, startled. "Really?" he said.
"I have heard that, Julian," Dax confirmed.
Something thumped, and machinery growled.
Bashir turned back to the inner door as it began to
descend. "Well," he said, "whoever built this ship
wasn't quite so unfriendly as all that." He added, in a
tone that was apologetic, "But I will try to be more
careful in the future."
O'Brien noticed that this promise didn't hold
Bashir back from bending down and stepping through
into the ship's interior the moment the door had
opened sufficiently. With another sigh, this one not
suppressed at all, O'Brien followed.
The three of them straightened up in a broad
passage, lit the same odd pink; the top of Bashir's
helmet scraped the ceiling, startling him, while the
corridor was easily five meters wide. The golden walls
curved slightly; so did the floor and ceiling, but that
was simply because of the ship's cylindrical design,
while curving walls were more likely to be an aesthetic
choice.

18 19




"Not designed for humanoids, I'd say," O'Brien
said. He glanced at the nearest wall, then stopped and
looked more closely.
Bashir and Dax were already moving down the
passageway as O'Brien stepped up and stared at the
tiny ripple in the corridor wall. He ran an armored
finger along it, stopping at a spidery junction.
"Conduits," he said to himself. "Now, why would
anyone put those out here, instead of inside the
bulkheads?" He studied the bluish stud atop the
junction, then took a step back and looked at the
surrounding tracery of ridges in the material, ridges
that were so small as to be almost invisible--unless
one was looking for them.
Circuitry, plainly--but constructed in a way he had
never seen before. And the pattern had something
strange about it, something almost familiarNbut not
something from any technology he knew ....
At last he placed it: the circuits were arranged like
the nerve cells in certain species.
An interesting design, certainly. He wondered how
it would work--didn't it mean the ship's systems
would operate in a nonlinear net? That would call for
some tricky balancing in the data flow--in fact,
thinking back, hadn't this been attempted long ago,
and never made to work?
Whoever built this ship had made it work.
And O'Brien remembered now that this sort of
design had been attempted, several times--because if
it worked at all, it would be incredibly efficient, and
would create computers capable of amazing feats ....
"Chiefl" Dax called; O'Brien abandoned his study
of the circuitry, turned, and hurried down the passage
to rejoin the others.

20

A few moments later Dax and O'Brien watched
silently as Bashir knelt over an inert alien, awkward in
his heavy suit. Bashir held his tricorder in one heavy
glove, while the armored fingers of the other hand
pressed gently against the pseudo-crustacean's ugly
purple flesh.
The chamber they were in was tilted at an uncom-
fortable angle; DS9's artificial gravity did not match
the ship's no-longer-present centrifugal force.
"It's dead," Bashir said at last, stepping back slight-
ly. "I'd say it's probably been dead for two or three
days, though it's hard to be sure with something so
unfamiliar. If there were some sort of preservation in
use, it could have been much longer."
O'Brien looked at the thing, trying not to be re-
lieved that it was dead. He had dealt with aliens for all
his adult life, including some that were fairly repul-
sive, and he thought he had gotten over this sort of
reaction, but this creature looked unusually nasty.
It was vaguely crablike, with half a dozen barbed
and jointed legs that would presumably have sup-
ported its body when it was alive, and with a row of
manipulative members along the front of its torso that
resembled forked tentacles with elbows in them. Four
black pits arranged above the manipulators were
apparently eyes, or the equivalent.
The low, wide shape of the thing would fit the
corridors and doorways well; it seemed a safe bet that
this was the species that had designed the ship, and
not some interloper that had acquired it later.
"It appears to have died of asphyxiation," Dr.
Bashir added, as an afterthought.
Dax considered that, then asked, "What atmos-
phere did it require, Julian?"
Bashir frowned through his faceplate at his




tricorder. "Hydrogen-methane, mostly--and before
you ask, that's exactly what's all around us."
"Then what killed it?" O'Brien asked. "Did some-
one smother it? Where's its nose, or its mouth?"
"It appears to have breathed through spiracles
along either side," Bashir said. "Fourteen in all. I
admit I don't quite see how anyone could block all of
them without a great deal of struggle."
"I see no sign of a struggle," Dax said, looking
about the room.
O'Brien looked about as well.
The place was so alien he really couldn't say wheth-
er there was any sign of a struggle or not. Nothing was
obviously out of position, but since he couldn't tell
what half the objects in the room were, that didn't
mean much. The short red cylinders along one wall
were all still in a neat row, and must be held in place
somehow; the tangled black tubes that were spilling
from a thing like a square bucket appeared to have
been affected on!y by the room's angle.
But were those two flat brown disks supposed to be
on the floor? If not, had they fallen with the shift in
gravity, or had something flung them?
Was that octagonal panel in one wall supposed to be
open? Were those things behind it where they should
be, whatever they were?
What had killed the alien? Was whatever had killed
it still aboard?
"Let's move on," O'Brien said.
Bashir looked to Dax; she didn't answer, but simply
walked on.
A few moments later they found the ship's bridge--
at least, O'Brien assumed that it was the bridge. There
were control panels and viewscreens in sufficient
numbers for a ship's bridge, recognizable despite their
alien construction--and their arrangement suggested

to O'Brien that he had been right about the ship's
computer design.
This room happened to be the right way up, which
was convenientmand which also implied that it
might be important, a place that would be used both
in flight and when the ship had landed.
There was another dead alien here, of the same
vaguely crablike species as the first--though this one
had dark green speckles on its purple integument that
the other had not possessed.
Bashir had his tricorder ready and working before
anyone could say a word.
"Asphyxiation again," he said.
Dax looked at O'Brien. "Could there have been a
life-support failure, perhaps?"
O'Brien frowned and glanced at his helmet
readouts. The air was hydrogen and methane and
while it would be deadly poison to anything humanm
or Trill--the pressure certainly seemed adequate, and
it should be capable of supporting the sort of life these
crab things appeared to be.
Some of the other readings, though, were far less
hopeful. "Doctor," O'Brien said, "are you sure they
asphyxiated? Might it have been radiation poison-
ing?"
"Well, it might be, I suppose," Bashir admitted,
considering the suggestion. "I don't know that much
about the species, and perhaps hard radiation breaks
down the gas-transport capability of their circulatory
fluids. I see no tissue degeneration, however, and
that's a symptom of radiation sickness in most spe-
cies."
"The air in here seems just fine," O'Brien said.
Then he hastily explained, "I mean, for them it's fine,
it'd kill any of the three of us dead as mackerel in half
a minute. But that's chemically--as far as radiation




goes, it's toxic soup. We're taking a few hundred rems
every minute, or we would be if we weren't in these
suits." O'Brien shook his head. "Not a healthy envi-
ronment for much of anyone--but it's not breathin'
that would be hard."
"There are species that thrive in radioactive envi-
ronments," Dax pointed out.
"I don't think this particular species was one of
them," Bashir remarked.
O'Brien didn't reply; instead he glanced about,
looking for some clue to the mysteries here, and
spotted something he recognized.
This ship might represent an alien technology, and
might be designed for a nonhumanoid species, but
there were always some things that translated readily;
the illuminated diagram on the big panel on the
starboard bulkhead was unquestionably a ship's sta-
tus display. O'Brien knelt and studied it.
Those blue lines, he figured, indicated power flow,
and the thicker red lines would be ventilation--those
all looked clear enough. That structure that ran down
the ship's core, widening at the stern, would be the
main engine, which he knew from the ship's sensor
signature to be a high-energy ion drive capable of
pushing the ship to relativistic speeds, but not faster
than light--these crab things did not appear to have
warp-drive technology, or at any rate not any sort
O'Brien was familiar with.
Those green patches on the drive--would these
fellows use green to indicate danger? Something about
the color scheme he had seen so far suggested to him
that they would.
If so, then there was something seriously wrong
with the ship's main engines.
Sometimes when things went seriously wrong with
ships' engines, things exploded. If that happened here

it could damage the station--not to mention killing
the three of them if they were still aboard.
O'Brien traced the passages on the diagram with a
gloved finger, then stood up.
"Come on," he said.

The ship's primary power source was a primitive
fission pile, and all the damper rods had been pulled
--O'Brien could only assume that this had been
sabotage.
The saboteur, however, had been foiled by a backup
safety system: when the pile had begun to go critical,
the heat had melted through a simple device like an
old-fashioned fuse, and a set of spring-loaded emer-
gency damping plates had slid into place, cutting off
the reaction before it could reach the point of either
complete meltdown or explosion.
That had kept the ship from exploding, but it had
been too late to prevent the initial burst of hard
radiation from saturating the vessel and reducing it to
its current lethal state.
A third dead alien was in the power room, but well
away from the pile controls; O'Brien had no way of
determining whether this was the saboteur who had
wrecked the pile, or just an innocent bystander.
This room, like the bridge, was along the ship's
underside and therefore still the right way up.
It was also horrifyingly radioactive. The levels that
their suit gauges registered here were several times
what the three explorers had encountered on the
bridge.
"We'll want to beam out, straight to decontamina-
tion," O'Brien remarked. "We can't walk through the
station corridors in our suits after coming in here."
He looked at his helmet readouts again, and winced at
what he saw. Even their armored suits wouldn't




protect them indefinitely against radiation levels as
high as this. "Our friends in the wormhole probably
didn't appreciate having this thing come through," he
added.
"I don't know if simple radioactivity bothers
them," Dax said.
"Well, it bothers me, "O'Brien said. "We'll want to
have this whole vessel decontaminated, and this pow-
er pile should just be junked. The fuel rods are beyond
salvaging." He looked around the room, noting the
tracery of circuits built into the walls here, just as it
had been elsewhere in the ship--a very interesting
technique, that was, especially with the Besrethine
neural-net design. "It'll be a pleasure to see just how
these things work, though. These folks may not have
been much on drive technology, but if this computer
system works the way I think it does, the Daystrom
Institute is going to be very, very interested."
"And these remains... they're fascinating!" Ba-
shir said, studying the dead alien. "I've never seen a
species like them. I can't wait to study them properly,
in a decent laboratory, with real instruments and
without this suit!"
"That may not be possible," Dax said, with a glance
at her helmet readouts. She tapped her communica-
tor.

Sisko listened intently as Dax described what the
boarding party had found aboard the derelict.
"No surviving crew members?" he asked.
"No, sir," Dax replied. "Three dead; no trace of
anything alive."
"Any hint at all of Cardassian handiwork?" Sisko
glanced sideways at Kira as he asked that question;
she looked boldly back at him, unfazed.
"No, sir," Dax replied. "If the Cardassians are

responsible for any of this, they're far more clever
than we've ever thought, and capable of far more than
we believe."
Sisko nodded.
"Another thing, Benjamin," Dax added. "O'Brien
points out that the computer system aboard this vessel
is a radically different design from anything we're
familiar with, something called a Besrethine neural
net, that neither the Federation nor the Cardassians
has ever made work. If the Cardassians had developed
such a system, Chief O'Brien is certain they would
never let it fall into our hands." O'Brien cut in.
"Commander, if this computer is what I think it is,
it's not only not Cardassian, but we'd better be damn
sure that the Cardassians don't get their hands on it!"
"Interesting," Sisko said. "You think this design
would be valuable, then?"
"And dangerous!" O'Brien said.
"Definitely valuable, Benjamin," Dax said, reas-
serting herself. "Chief O'Brien believes it could jump
Federation computer technology ahead a hundred
years, and I concur."
"Excellent," Sisko said. "Are you planning to look
around further? We can manage a little longer out
here .... "
"No, Benjamin," Dax replied. "We're reaching the
limits of what our protective suits can handle. I'm
calling instead of reporting in person because we need
to be beamed directly to decontamination."
"I'll take care of it. Sisko out." He turned to Kira,
who stepped to the transporter controls before he
could speak.
"So the crew is all dead?" she asked, as she set the
coordinates.
"Apparently," Sisko replied.




"Then the ship's recovery would be covered by
salvage law, wouldn't it?" she mused aloud. "And
O'Brien thinks the computer design might be valu-
able."
"We can hardly claim it for ourselves, Major..."
She looked up at him, startled, as the transporter
hummed. "Not for us, Commander," she said. "For
Bajor. "

CHAPTER
4

SISKO Arid KmA were still arguing as O'Brien and Dax
appeared on the Ops transporter pad, freshly arrived
from decontamination, their protective suits re-
moved.
"We must make every attempt to return that ship to
its rightful owners," Sisko insisted. "The design of
that computer is the intellectual property of the ship's
builders, and while I hope they'll share it with us, we
have no right to steal it."
"That ship is a derelict, Commander, and under
interstellar law it's the property of whoever salvages
it--which is exactly what we did," Kira replied. "This
is a Bajoran station, and that means that ship belongs
to the people of Bajor. If that computer design is
valuable, then it's an asset of the Bajoran people!"
O'Brien and Dax exchanged bemused glances, then
took their places at the Ops table--neither one cared
to interrupt the debate.
Scant moments later, Dax looked up from her




screen and announced, "Benjamin, a Cardassian war-
ship is approaching the station."
Sisko and Kira had closed upon each other until
they were mere inches apart, arguing intently without
shouting; now both turned, startled, to look at Dax.
"What kind of ship?" Kira asked. "One of the
raiders?" She looked challengingly at Sisko.
"No, this is a Galor-class cruiser," Dax replied.
"None of the intrusions were by ships that large.
Benjamin, it's hailing us."
"Let's see what they want," Sisko said. "On
viewer."
The image of a smiling Cardassian face appeared on
the main screen, and as Sisko had half-expected, he
was facing the former prefect of Bajor, Gul Dukatm
Dukat stfil seemed to consider any contact between
the Cardassian Empire and Deep Space Nine, which
had once been his headquarters, to be his particular
concern.
Dukat had probably not been among the raiders--
certainly, not in this ship.
But Sisko couldn't be sure Dukat wasn't involved
somehow.
Except for their oddly shaped and corded faces and
somewhat heavier musculature, Cardassians were
very similar to humans, and a smile meant the same
thing among Cardassians as among most humanolds;
nonetheless, Sisko did not smile back.
"Gul Dukat," he said. "What brings you to Deep
Space Nine? I don't suppose you're here to apologize
for the recent intrusions?"
Gul Dukat smiled his familiar toothy and insincere
smile. "My, what a friendly greeting. What intrusions
could you be talking about?"
"Seven of them, so far," Kira said. "Cardassian

30

ships making low-altitude passes over Bajor and
Bajoran settlements."
"Oh, dear, how very unfortunate," Dukat mur-
mured. He smiled again. "However, that is not what
brought me here."
"Oh?" Sisko said.
"I believe you have something there that isn't
yoursmthat ship on upper pylon two."
"There is an alien vessel docked at upper two,"
Sisko admitted warily.
"Ah! You've noticed," Dukat said. "And did you
notice, perhaps, that this vessel was on its way to
Cardassia? It was, I am reliably informed, on a direct
,route for Cardassian space when you, ah, diverted it,
with a tractor beam. One of our border patrols
happened to observe the whole thing."
"I'm afraid, Gul Dukat," Sisko said, "that you're
wasting your time. The ship is apparently a derelict
that fell into the wormhole; the crew is dead, the
drive wrecked. We simply removed a hazard to navi-
gation."
"How very thoughtful of you, Commander! But
surely, we Cardassians could have handled that chore,
if you hadn't interfered."
"What's your point?" Sisko asked wearily.
"My point, Commander," Dukat said, his manner
suddenly turning harsh, "is that to the casual observ-
er, it might appear that you and your tractor beam
stole this ship as it emerged from the wormhole, by
taking it to your station without the permission of the
ship's rightful owners." "Stole it?"
Gul Dukat nodded. "Oh, yes, a blatant theft. You
say there was no one aboard it--it seems to me, in
that case, that its original course would indicate that




the ship's owners clearly intended their ship to be a
gift to the Cardassian people."
"The crew was aboard, Gul Dukat, but they were
dead," Sisko said. "As to their intentions..."
"Commander, I don't really care what their inten-
tions were," Gul Dukat said, cutting him off. "I want
you to release that ship and let me take it. If you don't
release it, I regret to say that I shall be forced to take it
anyway, regardless of whatever damage to your pre-
cious station that may involve. I haven't yet locked my
ship's phasers on that pylonmit's not too late to be
reasonable and keep this peaceful."
"You have odd ideas of what constitutes peaceful
behavior, Gul Dukat," Sisko said.
"And you have ten seconds to decide," Dukat
replied.
Sisko glared silently at the viewer; Gul Dukat glared
back.
"Dukat must want that derelict pretty badly," Kira
said quietly.
"If he knows about those computers, I don't blame
him," O'Brien muttered in reply. "But I don't see how
he could possibly know."
"He probably doesn't," Kira answered bitterly. "He
just saw a chance to take something away from us."
"Benjamin," Dax interrupted, "a second Cardas-
sian ship is approaching. Another cruiser."
"Bringing up reinforcements?" Sisko said. "Really,
Gul Dukat, that was hardly necessary."
"Reinforcements?" Gul Dukat glanced to the side,
at something not visible on Sisko's viewer. "Would
you excuse me for a moment, Commander?"
The viewer went blank.
"What the..." Sisko began.
"Benjamin," Dax said, "the new arrival is hailing
Gul Dukat."

"What do you suppose that's about?" Sisko asked.
Kira shrugged.
"Gul Dukat is refusing the contact," Dax reported.
"Now the other ship is readying phasers ...."
"Shields up," Sisko snapped.
"Shields up, sir," O'Brien said.
"Benjamin, it's locking phasers on Gul Dukat's
ship," Dax said.
"What the devil?" O'Brien said. "What's going on
out there?"
"Keep those shields up," Sisko said. "This could be
a trick--and even if it isn't, we could get caught in the
crossfire." He glanced at Kira.
"Now the other ship is hailing us," Dax announced.
"Now both ships are."
"Put them on, split-screen," Sisko ordered.
Gul Dukat's image appeared on the left, and anoth-
er Cardassian's on the right--for a moment, Sisko
had wondered whether perhaps the second ship was
not in Cardassian hands at all, but whoever was in
command there was certainly Cardassian in appear-
ance, both species and uniform.
"Commander," the new arrival said, "I am Gul
Kaidan, military deputy to Kag Leghuris. It would
seem that you may be in possession of a piece of
property that rightfully belongs to the Cardassian
Empire."
"So Gul Dukat was just telling us," Sisko replied.
"I'm afraid I found his arguments unconvincing." He
glanced at Dukat, then back at Kaidan.
"Gul Dukat," Gul Kaidan said, "was acting with-
out the authority of the Imperial Council."
"Oh, come now, Gul Kaidan," Dukat replied.
"Surely, one need not have advance authorization to
counter an act of piracy?"
"No one has committed piracy," Sisko protested.




"This station, in accordance with all relevant agree-
ments, intercepted a derelict ship in Bajoran space in
order to remove a hazard to navigation."
"I notice, however," Gul Dukat said, somehow
giving the impression of a sneer without actually
displaying one, "that you did not simply destroy this
unwanted object."
"I will not apologize for our scientific curiosity,"
Sisko answered calmly. Also, we were uncertain at
first that there were no survivors aboard, and acted in
part from humanitarian motives."
"Ah, the vaunted Federation humanitarianism,"
Gul Dukat said. "Well, now that you've seen that
there are no survivors, perhaps you would be so kind
as to turn the ship over to me?"
"Under no circumstances are you to do that, Com-
mander," Gul Kaidan replied immediately. "That
ship is the property of the Cardassian government,
and I am the representative of that government! Gul
Dukat is acting independently, and without author-
ity."
"I see," Sisko said. "And you, Gul Kaidan, carry
the necessary authority? If I establish a subspace link
with Cardassia, the government there will confirm
that you are empowered to negotiate this claim?"
Kaidan's firm expression faltered, and Gul Dukat
smiled.
"I am an officer in the Imperial government," Gul
Kaidan replied.
"As am I," Gul Dukat said mildly.
"I was assigned to my present duties by the Imperial
Council," Gul Kaidan insisted. "Gul Dukat is acting
independently."
"But neither of you has actually been authorized to
claim this ship?" Sisko asked.
"Gul Kaidan's present duties, Commander," Gul

Dukat said, "consist largely of spying on me. I doubt
very much that his masters back on Cardassia thought
to say, 'Oh, by the way, if you happen across a
hijacked ship, do reclaim it for us.' He is, in short,
bluffing."
"I hold a higher position in the Empire than you,
Gul Dukat .... "
"At the moment, perhaps, but my record..."
"Gentlemen," Sisko said sharply, "surely you see
that under the circumstances, I cannot turn the ship
over to either of you."
Both Cardassians considered that for a second or
two.
"Indeed," Gul Kaidan said. "If I have your assur-
ance, Commander, that you will not release that ship
to this arrogant fool..."
"You needn't trouble yourself, Gul Kaidan," Gul
Dukat interrupted. "If you would be so kind as to
power down your ship's weapons, so that I may be
assured I won't be ambushed, I'll be going. It's plain
that your arrival has provided just the sort of compli-
cation our dear Commander Sisko needs to ensure
that he can keep that prize of his just where it is.
However, Commander, I trust that you will see that
no one, Cardassian or otherwise, boards that ship
until the little matter of its ownership is settled?"
"That should be possible," Sisko acknowledged
warily.
"Then for now, I will leave it as a matter for our
respective governments to resolve."
Gul Dukat's image abruptly vanished from the
viewer.
Gul Kaidan turned aside for a moment, and mut-
tered something the listeners aboard Deep Space Nine
could not make out; then he turned back to Sisko.

34 35




"Now, Commander," Gul Kaidan said, "if you
would turn that ship over to me, I'm sure..."
"Gul Kaidan," Sisko interrupted, "I'm sure you
heard what I said. I cannot release that ship to anyone
until the question of its ownership is resolved."
"Gul Kaidan's ship has powered down its weapons,
Benjamin," Dax said.
"A friendly warning, Commander," Gul Kaidan
said. "While the Cardassian Empire appreciates your
thoughtfulness in keeping the traffic routes clear of
debris, anything of value aboard that ship is the
property of the Empire. Any attempt to appropriate it
will be dealt with quite severely."
"I thank you for the warning," Sisko said. He
'looked up at the viewer, resentful of being on the
defensive--capturing the ship had been a harmless
and proper tiling to do. It was the Cardassians who
had been misbehaving lately, and Sisko intended to
point that out.
Sisko didn't know this Gul Kaidan, however. Ap-
parently he was in a position of some authority--the
Cardassian Empire did not hand out Galor-class
warships to just anyone--but Gul Dukat had clearly
not considered Gul Kaidan to be in a position to give
him orders. Sisko was therefore not certain just how
seriously to take anything Gul Kaidan said; was he a
representative of the Cardassian government?
And what in the galaxy was going on here, anyway?
Cardassian ships threatening to fire on each other?
Did this connect to the intrusions somehow?
"Gul Dukat's ship is leaving," Dax reported.
Whether Gul Kaidan was, in fact, connected to the
intruders had some relevance to how Sisko wanted to
address him--but Sisko didn't know if such a connec-
tion existed.
Fortunately, since every Cardassian he had ever

36

met seemed to appreciate deadpan sarcasm, to the
point where Sisko suspected it was an essential part of
Cardassian culture, phrasing his reply to this "friend-
ly warning" was not difficult. Whether the Cardassian
chose to interpret it as subtle irony or a simple polite
statement was up to him.
"I hope you won't think it rude," he said, "if I
mention that some of your compatriots have been
anything but friendly lately--and I do not refer to Gul
Dukat's visit."
"Why, whatever do you mean, then?" the Car-
dassian asked, with eyebrows raised.
"Perhaps this should go through more formal diplo-
matic channels," Sisko said, "but there have been
several... incidents of late. Unwelcome intrusions
into Bajoran space by Cardassian ships."
"Oh, have there?" The Cardassian reigned surprise.
"I hadn't heard. How very alarming! Please, Com-
mander, do tell me more."
Sisko's face was utterly expressionless as he stared
silently at the main viewscreen, betraying nothing of
his rushing thoughts.
Sisko was certain that Kaidan wanted something
other than the derelict, or he wouldn't still be hereto
he would either have kept arguing, or have left as soon
as Gul Dukat did. In Sisko's experience Cardassians
never did anything unless they expected to gain from
it somehow. Kaidan's visit raised many questions,
and the first question Sisko wanted answered was just
what this particular Cardassian wanted.
And once he knew that, Sisko would worry about
whether Kaidan should be permitted to have whatever
it was he had come for.
There had not been time yet for word of the
derelict's arrival to have reached Cardassia, and a ship
sent out; both Gul Dukat and Gul Kaidan must have




already been in the area. Therefore, the derelict was
not what had brought them.
Sisko was sure now that there was some connection
between Kaidan's presence and the earlier hit-and-
run raids--or rather, intrusions; he would have to
remember that officially they weren't really raids, as
no weapons were fired, no plunder taken. Kaidan's
ignorance was blatantly false--as if he wanted Sisko
to know it was a lie. But why?
Did Kaidan really want the derelict? How could he
possibly know whether it was valuable? Sisko himself
had only just learned that O'Brien thought the
onboard computers were something special; Gul
Kaidan simply couldn't have known that, not unless
ships like this had appeared before, and been captured
by the Cardassians.
And if they had, then the Cardassians would have
already had the computer technology that O'Brien
was so enthusiastic about. That couldn't be it.
So Gul Kaidan's interest in the derelict was proba-
bly just a matter of making sure that Gul Dukat didn't
get it.
What was going on in the Cardassian Empire that
had these officers at each other's throats?
"I find myself somewhat confused, Gul Kaidan,"
Sisko said. "I had thought that the Empire kept a
watchful eye on its subordinates."
"Ordinarily it does, Commander," Kaidan agreed.
"The situation just now, however, is far from ordi-
nary."
"Perhaps we could discuss this situation, then,"
Sisko suggested, fishing for more information.
"I would be delighted, Commander," the Cardas-
sian replied, once again smiling. "But surely, not over
an open channel like this."

That was it--that was why Gul Kaidan was lying so
obviously. The Cardassian wanted an invitation to a
private discussion.
That was intriguing.
"Of course not," Sisko agreed. "If you'd care to
come aboard the station, perhaps we could speak
somewhere more congenial."
"I accept your kind invitation, Commander,"
Kaidan said. "If you could provide the transport
coordinates..."
"Of course." Sisko nodded to O'Brien, who had
observed the conversation with interest.
"Yes, sir," O'Brien said. He stepped over to the
transporter control panel.
Sisko, watching him, thought O'Brien seemed dis-
pleased about something--perhaps allowing a
Cardassian on the station, perhaps that Sisko had
agreed not to allow anyone aboard the strange ship
with its fascinating computers.
The ship would just have to wait. It didn't pose any
immediate danger as long as no one went near it.
A Cardassian warship, on the other hand, was
always an immediate danger.




CHAPTER
5

THE CARDASSIAN COMMANDER seemed oddly reluctant
when Sisko suggested that they might speak in his
office.
Well, Sisko thought, there was no harm in humoring
the fellow, and his son Jake would be in Keiko
O'Brien's schoolroom down on the Promenade for
another hour or more. "An office seems so formal,
though," he said. "Perhaps we'd be more comfortable
in my quarters."
The Cardassian brightened. "Ah, that would be
fine, Commander."
A moment later they settled into chairs, Sisko with
a mug of coffee, Kaidan with a Cardassian brew that
smelled to Sisko like some unholy mix of lime and
onion.
Sisko noted wryly that judging by Gul Kaidan's
expression after his first sip of his drink, the station's
Cardassian-built replicators seemed to do no better
with that stuff than they did with coffee.

"Gul Kaidan," Sisko said, after a second or two of
polite silence, keeping his tone quite friendly, "I find
it hard to believe that you know nothing at all of the
recent incursions into Bajoran space."
The Cardassian smiled over his cup. He looked
about the room before answering, then remarked,
"This seems a rather spartan accommodation, Com-
mander-but at least it's private, eh?"
Sisko considered that. Private? Just who did Kaidan
think might be listening in, either in the station
commander's office or aboard the Cardassian's own
ship?
"Private enough," he said.
Kaidan put down his cup. "One can never be too
careful," he said.
"I take it, Gul Kaidan, that you have some reason to
be concerned about privacy?"
"Oh, well, in these unsettled times..." He made
an odd gesture with one hand that Sisko judged to be
the Cardassian equivalent of a shrug.
"I have, of course, noticed that there seem to be
some difficulties occurring within the Cardassian Em-
pire," Sisko said. "And just what is it that has so
unsettled matters, Gul Kaidan?"
"I would have thought you would have heard, even
here," Kaidan replied.
Heard what? Sisko thought that over.
Somehow, Sisko had come to doubt that honesty
was the best policy when dealing with Cardassians.
Certainly other Cardassians didn't seem to think
much of the direct approach. Bluffing would be prefer-
able, but given how little he actually knew Sisko
couldn't see how to manage it.
He decided that he would have to do his best at
mixing fact and fiction. "If you refer to the death of




Kag Duzek," he said, "naturally, we are aware of it.
However, the connection to recent events eludes me."
The station's computer records had been of very
limited assistance on this subject; Sisko had learned
something of Kag Duzek's family background and
early career, that he had belonged to one of the
political factions currently out of power, but no more
than that.
"Oh, come, Commander," Kaidan said. "Surely
you know that Kag Duzek had been named as the
Goran Tokar's heir?"
Sisko let none of his confusion show on his face. He
steepled his fingers and nodded thoughtfully.
Who the devil was the Goran Tokar? The name was
vaguely familiar, and Sisko had the impression that a
Goran was a high-ranking official in the Cardassian
hierarchy, but beyond that either F~is memory or his
education ihiled him. Why was Kag Duzek's connec-
tion to him, her, or it supposed to explain anything?
What did it have to do with intrusions into Bajoran
space, or preventing Gul Dukat from stealing the
derelict ship?
"And just how does this bring you here, Gul
Kaidan?" Sisko asked.
Kaidan smiled in that charmingly insincere way
that so many Cardassians seemed to have. "Naturally,
you would not know my own political affiliations,"
Kaidan acknowledged. "I'm told that Gul Dukat's
people were fairly thorough in erasing this station's
records."
Actually, the erasure had been very spotty, but that
was hardly something Sisko would admit to a
Cardassian. Virtually everything about Cardassian
internal politics was gone, however, so the erasure
might as well have been complete as far as this
particular discussion went.

42

Sisko nodded noncommittally.
"As anyone who knows me will attest, Command-
er," Kaidan said, "I have always supported the poli-
cies of the current administration. I have, in fact,
pinned my hopes of advancement on that fact. As a
fellow political appointee, I'm sure you'll appreciate
that."
"My own appointment was not political," Sisko
objected quietly.
"Oh, come," Kaidan said. "All appointments are
political, surely. You were sent here prior to the
discovery of the wormhole, as I recall--perhaps you
have enemies in the bureaucracy? And the wormhole
has given you an opportunity to turn the tables on
them, has it not?"
'This was fascinating; the Cardassian was clearly
reading his own experience into Sisko's situation. "I
take it the wormhole has stirred up your own adminis-
tration," Sisko said, neither denying nor admitting
anything.
"Well, naturally," Gul Kaidan acknowledged. "We
abandoned Bajor as worthless, and to have this re-
source of incalculable value found here almost as soon
as we had left--of course there was some political
damage. We face challenges now from two competing
factions that, frankly, were not serious threats before
the discovery of the wormhole."
"I see," Sisko said, steepling his fingers. "And Gul
Dukat has affiliated himself with one of those other
factions?"
"Gul Dukat," Gul Kaidan said venomously, "is a
rank opportunist, who has refused to commit himself
on any side, as yet."
Sisko nodded. "I take it you believe he intends to
exploit the political damage the wormhole has caused,




while you're here to try to repair some of that political
damage?"
"Rather, I hope to prevent any further deteriora-
tion," the Cardassian answered. "If I could demon-
strate, for example, that we will still receive benefits
from the wormhole's presence, such as that ship you
have, without the cost of maintaining this station, that
would go quite some distance toward consolidating
our political position."
"I see," Sisko said again.
"Or if I could prove that the ship is worthless, that
might serve to quiet a few voices in the opposition,"
Kaidan said. "Our major weakness is that we are seen
as having given up something of great value; if we
could imply that it is, in fact, not valuable at all, that
would serve us as well." He smiled. "I speak frankly,
Commander, because I hope you will help us to retain
our dominant position in the Empire."
"Oh?" Sisko frowned. "Why would you expect me
to help you?"
"Really, Commander, ! should think it would be to
your benefit if my party remains in power."
"Oh?"
"Certainly. If our rivals come to power, war is
virtually assured, and if there is war, the glory will go
to the ship captains and the fleet admirals, not to you
or this station; if there is peace, surely a successful
regime here can serve as a stepping-stone to higher
office."
He smiled.
"Surely," he said, "you don't want a war?"

CHAPTER
6

TuE OPEN MENTION of the possibility of war was
startling. Sisko had wondered whether the Cardassian
intrusionslincluding Gut Dukat's attempt at strong-
arm robbery--might be a deliberate attempt to start a
war, and perhaps they were, but Kaidan's words
implied that it wasn't the current Cardassian adminis-
tration that was behind it, that Kaidan himself
wanted peace.
That was a reliefi Sisko had had a bellyful of war
long ago. "And what is it you want of me, then?" he
asked. "Do you expect me to simply hand over an
alien artifact?"
"It would be helpful," Gul Kaidan said.
"It would set an intolerable precedent," Sisko re-
plied.
"Ah," Gul Kaidan said. "And if we simply took it,
as Gul Dukat proposed to do? I don't doubt that my
ship has the firepower to overwhelm this station's
defenses."

45




"I don't doubt it, either," Sisko said, "but that
would, of course, mean war between the Empire and
the Federation. Would you really start a war over a
worthless relic?"
"Ah," Gut Kaidan said, "but wouM it start a war?"
Sisko noticed that he didn't ask whether the relic
was really worthless--an indication, perhaps, of just
where Gul Kaidan's interests really lay? He seemed
far more concerned with broad issues of war and
peace than with obtaining the derelict.
"The Federation has promised to defend this sta-
tion, as well as the Bajoran system," Sisko pointed
out.
"Against intrusions of every sort, yes," Gul Kaidan
said.
The words stung; so far, the Federation had done
nothing about the half-dozen raids into the Bajoran
system, and both Sisko and the Cardassian knew it.
"Against serious breaches of the peace, yes," Sisko
said. "A response to the recent intrusions is under
consideration."
"But it's not definite?"
"What are you getting at, Gul Kaidan?"
"I am suggesting," Gul Kaidan said, "that the
Federation might be too busy to worry about the loss
of this station--that they might not think it worth an
all-out war."
"Are you willing to risk that for a worthless arti-
fact?" Sisko asked. "That ship doesn't even have wall>
drive."
"That ship," Gul Kaidan said, "represents all the
potential treasures that the wormhole could be deliv-
ering into Cardassian hands--and whichever faction
delivers it to Cardassia will be demonstrating their
ability to acquire those treasures."
"And if you propose to take it in any case," Sisko

asked, "why does it matter to us which faction takes
it?"
"Because, Commander," Gul Kaidan replied, "my
people would use it to support our argument that we
can obtain everything we want from the Bajoran
system without fighting for it, while the Dja Bajora
Karass would argue that it proves we should reoccupy
Bajor."
Sisko blinked. That was not what he had expected.
"Reoccupy?" he asked.
Kaidan nodded.
"That wouM mean war," Sisko said. "It would be a
disaster for everyone."
"So my faction maintains," Kaidan agreed. "The
opposition argues otherwise." He glanced about, then
leaned forward and said quietly, "I thought perhaps
you might be able to assure me that the Federation
will, indeed, go to war if we make any attempt to
reoccupy Bajor." He added, "I understand, of course,
the Federation's official position."
At least it was now plain why Kaidan had come in
person and insisted on speaking in private--he could
hardly expect Sisko to vary from the official position
in public. He was hoping that here in private, Sisko
would tell him the truth.
Sisko wished he knew the truth himself. He thought
the Federation's official position was sincere, but
resources were stretched thin, the Romulan threat was
always there...
"I think you will see that it is in both our interests to
establish beyond question that the Federation is genu-
inely determined to defend Bajor," Kaidan said.
"And since the present administration on Cardassia
may be forced to yield power at any time, so that I
cannot guarantee that no attempt will be made to
reoccupy, you would not be wise to attempt a bluff.

46 47




That could easily hurt us both. A true exchange of
insight here could give us both a reputation for
prescience that could be quite valuable." Sisko nodded. "I see that," he said.
"The ship is not important, if it's truly valueless,"
Kaidan said. "We are served equally well by its
possession or its worthlessness, so long as our oppo-
nents are unable to capitalize upon it. Give it to me, or
destroy it, as you please--but you must not let it fall
into the hands of the D~ja Bajora Karass or the
Revanche Party. Either group could use its capture for
propaganda."
"We have no intention of turning it over to any-
one," Sisko said.
"And what do you intend to do?" Kaidan looked at
him expectantly.
Sisko thought this through carefully.
The ship was, as he had thought, an excuse--this
Gul Kaidan was concerned with the political situation
on Cardassia, not with possible profits.
But what did Sisko know of the political situation?
Kag Duzek had reportedly died in a sudden disa-
greement that had turned violent--apparently a per-
sonal matter involving a female who had previous
attachments elsewhere. Duzek had been active in a
political faction opposed to the present policies of the
Cardassian government, and his death had seemingly
triggered a series of intrusions into Bajoran space.
Now this Gul Kaidan had turned up, claiming to
side with the Cardassian government, implying that
the intrusions were the actions of the opposing fac~
tion, looking for assurance that the Federation would
defend Bajor, and arguing that the derelict might
wind up as a political tool.
Sisko hoped that Kaidan was telling the truth, and

48

this wasn't all an elaborate setup to lure Starfleet into
some sort of trap.
He also wished he knew more of just what the
Federation actually wouM do in the face of Cardassian
aggressionrathe latest reports had been less definite
than Sisko might have liked, and as yet there was no
word on any direct response to the recent intrusions.
That implied that some people back on Earth might
not be very enthusiastic about defending Bajor.
But they were committed to do so, and the Federa-
tion kept its promises.
Kag Duzek, Kaidan had said, had been the heir to
someone called the Goran Tokar. Kaidan took it for
granted that the connection between this and the
intrusions, and the political crisis, was obvious.
Sisko could guess at the connection, but he wanted
it verified.
"Your pardon, Gul Kaidan," he said, "but I would
like to be certain I understand. The recent violations
of Bajoran space--am I to take it that these were
made by people vying for Kag Duzek's position?"
"Of course," Kaidan answered, startled. "Though
of course, this is all unofficial and off the record, and I
hope this room is as private as you believe it is. The
Goran Tokar has argued all along that we gave up
Bajor too readily, that there are surely undiscovered
resources here that we abandoned because we were
too easily deterred by the Bajoran terrorists--he used
the fact that the Bajorans had somehow successfully
hidden one of those 'Celestial Orbs' of theirs from us
as evidence that there could be assets we had missed.
The Goran Tokar is a sick old man, with no family,
and now with no heir, the person who brings him
proof that he was right stands a good chance of being
named as his successor, which would mean inheriting




a considerable estate, as well as the leadership of the
Dja Bajora Karass, in the not too distant future."
"The D~ja Bajora Karass? You've mentioned that
three or four times now, and I'm afraid I don't know
the term."
"An approximate translation would be the 'Bajor Is
Ours' Party," Gul Kaidan replied. Sisko nodded.
This explained the deep sensor scans the Cardas-
sian intruders had been running--they had been
searching for those untapped resources that the Goran
Tokar believed in.
Finding them would surely be a potent weapon in
the political conflict.
"You think that Gul Dukat is hoping to become the
Goran Tokar's heir?" Sisko asked.
"He's one of the four leading candidates," Gul
Kaidan replied.
That made sense--and explained why Gul Dukat
had tried to claim the ship from the Gamma Quad-
rant. Dukat, who had served as prefect of Bajor and
supervised the final searches for resources before the
Cardassian withdrawal, knew as well as anyone that
no such resources existed--he had tied his bid for the
Goran Tokar's legacy to claiming resources from the
wormhole, instead.
"And proof of overlooked resources would also
further damage your own party's standing," Sisko
suggested.
"Exactly," Gul Kaidan said. ~'Such a discovery
combined with the presence of a strong new leader
among the Djja Bajora Karass could provide the
impetus they need to assume power--especially if
that new leader is able to arrange an alliance with the
Revanche Party, something the Goran Tokar has
refused to pursue, due to the pragmatic approach the

Revanchists have taken regarding the Orbs and other
matters. A sufficiently impressive discovery of over-
looked resources in the Bajoran system could put the
D~ja Bajora Karass in control of such an alliance and
relegate the Revanchists, who we've always consid-
ered the more serious threat, to a secondary role."
Sisko nodded. He had no idea what the Revanche
Party might be, or how it differed from the D~ja Bajora
Karass, but he didn't suppose that really mattered.
The internal complexities of Cardassian politics did
not concern him.
"If it's any comfort, the Federation has yet to find
anything your people missed," he said. "We don't
believe any such resources exist."
Kaidan nodded a polite acknowledgment. "Thank
you, Commander; that's a useful tidbit. About Fed-
eration policy, though..."
"I'm afraid that I am not in a position to say," Sisko
said. Gul Kaidan had come looking for honesty, and
Sisko decided to provide it. "As you noted yourself,"
he continued, "this post was hardly a political plum
prior to the discovery of the wormhole; I am not in the
confidence of the Federation Council. To the best of
my knowledge, the official policy is the actual policy. I
regret, Gul Kaidan, that I cannot add any further
assurance than that."
"So do I, Commander," Kaidan said, putting down
his mug. "Ordinarily, I might hesitate to believe
you--but you are a sensible man; why would you lie
to me, when to do so can only harm your own
position?"
Sisko didn't answer that; he stiflened in his seat at
the hint that he might have lied.
"You nmst have made some enemies," Kaidan said,
"but surely you have friends, as well. Should you learn
more, I hope you will find the means to communicate




it to me. Now, about this ship from the Gamma
Quadrant . . ."
Sisko frowned. "I'm afraid that I cannot recognize
the Cardass/an claim to the derelict; it originated in
the Gamma Quadrant, and was intercepted in
Bajoran space. My own people were studying it, in
hopes of tracing its origins and dealing with it appro-
priately; the most I can consent to, without an agree-
ment among all parties involved, is to stop our
investigations until the ship's ownership is settled."
"You will not give it up?"
"No, Gul Kaidan, I will not."
"Yet you say it's worthless."
"Its value is not the point," Sisko said. "Gul
Kaidan, the ship is driven by a fission-powered ion
engine, and used centrifugal force to simulate gravity
mhow valuable can it be?"
This was true, but deliberately misleadingmSisko
was careful not to mention the derelict's computers.
"Its political value may have little to do with its
actual value," Gul Kaidan said. "Perhaps we could
make an arrangement of some sort?"
Sisko considered that. "Perhaps," he said. "If the
intrusions into Bajoran space were to be halted, and
reparations made..."
It was Kaidan's turn to frown. "You drive a hard
bargain," he said.
"On the contrary," Sisko said. "I think that those
would be the minimum requirements for any negotia-
tion."
"It is not the Cardassian government, or any mem-
ber of my own faction, that is responsible for the
intrusions," Gul Kaidan said. "I realize that."
"Then I'm afraid we cannot reach any agreement as
yet," Kaidan said. "I regret to say that I may find it

necessary to use force to obtain that ship." He started
to rise, but there was a certain hesitancy to his
movement, as if he were hoping Sisko would object.
Sisko did not object immediately; he stood as well.
This visit had been informative, and it was also an
opportunity he didn't want to waste, but he was
unsure just what more Kaidan was after.
Then a thought struck him. If the intrusions were an
attempt to settle the political succession in the D~ja
Bajora Karass. . .
"Gul Kaidan," he said, "I am sure we can find ways
to help each other, rather than resorting to conflict--
as you say, it is in both our interests to settle this
peacefully, and not risk starting a war. Perhaps an
exchange of information might help--perhaps there
is something we can do that will benefit us both, and
be more valuable to you than that ship. Already, by
clarifying the situation regarding the Goran Tokar,
you have helped me considerably, and I'm in your
debt; I think that you've helped yourself, as well. If
there is any more you can tell me..."
Kaidan eyed him carefully; he said nothing, but did
not move to depart.
"For example," Sisko continued, "you went to
some trouble to prevent Gul Dukat from obtaining
that ship; I take it that your people would not be
happy if the Goran Tokar chose Gul Dukat as his heir.
Could you perhaps tell us whether we might want to
somehow encourage one of the candidates among the
Goran Tokar's would-be heirs, or whether there is one
we might especially wish to hamper? Might that not
be of surfrelent value to make the ship irrelevant?"
"Commander Sisko," Kaidan said, seating himself
again, "you are indeed a man of good sense."


CHAPTER
7

O'BRIEN WAITED IMPATIENTLY for Sisko and the
Cardassian to emerge from the commander's quar-
ters, but he had turned away from the turbolift for a
moment to look at a display--he had been thinking
about the derelict so much that for a moment he
thought he saw an image of one of the dead crablike
aliens on the screen. When he looked again it was
gone, but he was sufficiently distracted that he was
caught off-guard when at last the two commanders
reappeared.
"Chief O'Brien," Sisko called, "would you please
see Gul Kaidan safely back to his ship?"
"Yes, sir," O'Brien answered. He turned to the
transporter console as the Cardassian captain strode
over and stepped up onto the platform.
O'Brien saw Major Kira staring hatefully at the Car-
dassian and tried not to notice as he set the controls.
She probably didn't even realize she was doing it, he
thought.

"Major," Sisko said, beckoning to Kira, "I'd like to
speak to you in my office, please,"
O'Brien checked the coordinates, then announced,
"Energizing."
The Cardassian flickered and vanished, and
O'Brien turned quickly, to catch the commander
before he and the major vanished into his sanctum.
"Commander," he called, "about the alien ship on
upper pylon two..."
"It can wait, Chief," Sisko answered, mounting the
office steps.
"But sir..."
Sisko paused. "Does it pose any immediate threat,
Chief?. Lieutenant Dax?"
"Well, no," O'Brien admitted, "no immediate
threat, but it is radioactive .... "
"So were those four reactors the Cardassians sabo-
taged before they left, Chief; they don't seem to have
done any permanent harm, and they were closer in
than that ship is, out at the end of upper pylon two."
"The computers..."
"The computers can wait."
"But the crew, Commander..." Dr. Bashir began.
"The crew of that ship is dead, Dr. Bashir?" The
doctor nodded. "Then they can wait, as well." Sisko
entered his office; Major Kira followed, and the door
closed behind them.
O'Brien stared up at it in frustration. He desperate-
ly wanted to get another look at the alien ship's
computer systems--how had they made a Besrethine
neural net that didn't wind up in self-destructive
involutions?
Then he sighed and turned away. There was plenty
of work to be done here on the station, after all; the
replicatom on the Promenade were slipping out of
adjustment again, producing food and drink unfit for




humanoid consumption. Quark had logged several
calls complaining about that and requesting immedi-
ate repairs.
At least Quark's complaints had been polite this
time; in the past he had occasionally accused O'Brien
of delaying repairs deliberately in an attempt to drive
away Quark's customers and sabotage his business.
Work before pleasure, O'Brien told himself as he
headed for the turbolift.

"Reoccupy?" Major Kira shouted.
"That is the course of action espoused by the Goran
Tokar and the DJa Bajora Karass, yes," Sisko said. "I
understand the Revanche Party recommends it, as
well--unlike the D~ja Bajora Karass, they acknowl-
edge that the withdrawal was reasonable, but argue
that the wormhole should be reclaimed, by force if
necessary, now that its existence is known."
"The Federation won't allow that, will they?
Starfleet... if the Cardassians..."
Sisko could not resist teasing her slightly. "I thought
you didn't approve of Federation interference in
Bajoran affairs, Major."
"That's not funny, Commander!" Kira snapped.
Sisko didn't reply; he gave her a moment to calm
down.
He had to admit that it wasn't funny, and he
regretted giving into the impulse.
"I don't approve of Federation interference in
Bajoran affairs," Kira said at last through clenched
teeth, "but it's infinitely preferable to Cardassian
interference in Bajoran affairs!"
Sisko nodded. "I agree completely."
"Don't the Cardassians realize that a reoccupation
would mean war with the Federation?"

"My impression is," Sisko said judiciously, "that
some of them don't believe that the Federation would
fight for Bajor, and others don't care. And some may
want a war."
"But the Federation would fight, wouldn't it?" Kira
asked warily.
"I think so," Sisko replied judiciously.
"And win? There isn't any way the Cardassians
could win, is there?"
"I wouldn't think so," Sisko said. "Of course, I'm
not privy to all the latest military data, and Starfleet is
not currently at its peak, but I believe such a war
would mean the destruction of the Cardassian Empire
rebut probably the destruction of Bajor as well, and
at incalculable cost to the Federation." "Then how can they..."
"I repeat, Major," Sisko said, "some of the
Cardassians don't believe the Federation would fight,
and others don't care. My impression is that this
Goran Tokar would rather see Cardassia itself de-
stroyed in a final glorious battle than to willingly give
up any part of what he sees as Cardassian territory.
He reportedly threatened to suicide when the Celes-
tial Orbs were returned to Bajor in exchange for access
to the wormhole--he claimed that that was kowtow-
ing to inferiors and a disgrace to the species."
"That's insane!"
Sisko didn't argue with that.
"But we've got to stop it. Surely, if there were
Federation starships guarding Bajor..."
"I doubt the Cardassians would be mad enough to
attack a prepared enemy," Sisko agreed. "The Goran
Tokar might, but he is hardly typical."
"So are you going to call for Starfleet's help?" Kira
demanded.




"No," Sisko said. "Because as yet, neither the D~ia
Bajora Karass nor the Revanche Party is in power, and
until they are, there is no direct threat to Bajor.
Federation starships on the border would be seen as
needless provocation. Furthermore, it would be a
significant expense for the Federation at a time when
resources are stretched thin, and it would hardly do
any good to Bajoran self-confidence. It's far too soon
to call in Starfleet."
"But there won't be time if you wait," Kira pro-
tested. "The Cardassian Empire is just across the
border, and the nearest Federation starbase is dozens
of light-years away!"
"I think you overestimate Cardassian prepared-
ness," Sisko argued. "I doubt they would be able to
launch an occupation fleet immediately if the D~ja
Bajora Karass or the Revanchists came to power.
These things do require some advance planning, and I
would expect some time-consuming debate."
"But not that much planning or debate," Kira said.
"If I know the Cardassians, they probably have a
contingency plan already worked up."
"My own knowledge of Cardassian history would
suggest a tendency toward clever improvisation, actu-
ally," Sisko said mildly.
"Which isn't any better. Commander, we need
Federation assistance out here!" "I don't think..."
"Commander," Kira said, "do you want Bajor to be
reoccupied? So that you'll be sent back to Mars, and
Jake can be back with other humans? Sacrificing an
entire people..."
She stopped in midsentence.
Sisko stared at her, genuinely shocked. "Major!" he
snapped.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all.
"Major Kira," Sisko said, forcing himself to speak
calmly, "I don't want a war. I've told you that before.
Sending starships out to patrol the Cardassian border
would be seen as provocation, and you know itmit
might well bring about exactly the war we wish to
stop."
Kira struggled with this; all her instincts said that
the Cardassians had to be opposed by force, that they
would understand nothing else, but she knew Sisko's
arguments were sound.
"Well, then just what do you propose to do?" she
said at last.
"Major, it seems to me that you've been jumping
ahead in your concerns," Sisko replied. "I told you
that Gul Kaidan suggests that a war may happen if the
Dja Bajora Karass takes power--not when they take
power, but if If we can prevent that from ever
happening, then perhaps we can prevent any attempt
at reoccupying, as the present Cardassian administra-
tion has a great deal of their reputation tied up in their
insistence that Bajor was worthless to them at the
time of the withdrawal--as long as the Dja Bajora
Karass opposes them, they will never attempt a reoc-
cupation."
"What about that other group you mentioned, the
Revanchists?"
Sisko frowned. "I'm afraid I don't know much
about them, but Gul Kaidan seemed to feel they could
be managed without our help. It was the D~ja Bajora
Karass that he felt posed the more immediate threat
just now."
Kira looked at him doubtfully. "I don't see how we
can influence Cardassian politics. You know they
don't pay any attention to outsiders."




"It shouldn't be so difficult as all that," Sisko said.
"True, we can't do anything about it openly, but there
are other ways."
Kira settled into a chair and listened dubiously.
"Gul Kaidan tells me that there are four serious
contenders for the position of heir to the Goran
Tokar," Sisko explained. "The first is Gul Kudesh, the
noted commander who won the Battle of Regannin--
he's also the most likely, once in power, to start a war,
if only for the chance to display his military prowess.
In fact, since he was never even in the Bajoran system
during the occupation, and took no interest in it, it
would seem he's been active in the DJa Bajora Karass
only because it's the more warlike faction, and be-
cause he has too many enemies among the Revanch-
ists."
"I've heard of him," Kira said with a shudder.
"It would appear, though Gul Kaidan did not say so
in so many words, that Gul Kudesh is responsible for
the intrusions into Bajoran space," Sisko said.
"Why?" Kira asked, half-rising from her seat. "Is he
trying to start a war?"
"No," Sisko said, shaking his head. "He's looking
for resources that his compatriots might have missed
during the occupation. It seems that he doesn't trust
anyone else's reports on the matter."
"That's absurd," Kira said.
Sisko didn't reply.
"All right, that's one," Kira said. "Who are the
others?"
"The other three all held office in the Bajoran
system prior to the withdrawal," Sisko said. "Gul
Burot was stationed on Bajor itself only briefly before
being promoted to an administrative post back on
Cardassia. Gul Peshor oversaw several deep-mining
operations. And the last contender, of course, is our

old friend Gul Dukat, who ran this station and wants
this office back."
"Gul Dukat? Is that what he was doing here, trying
to steal that ship? He was trying to impress the Goran
Tokar?"
Sisko nodded.
"But isn't he..." Kira paused, gathering her
thoughts, then said, "But Gul Dukat was the prefect
here under the present Cardassian government,
wasn't he? He's not a member of the opposition--or
is Cardassian politics that different from Bajoran?"
"I asked Gul Kaidan the same thing," Sisko said.
"As I understand it, Gul Dukat is more an opportun-
ist than anything else--he is indeed nominally a part
of the ruling faction at present, yes, but he's been
feeling underappreciated, and his record as prefect
here is sufficient grounds for his elevation to leader-
ship in the DJa Bajora Karass. He appears to have
privately expressed an interest in such a role."
"That's just like him," Kira said bitterly. She
thought for a moment, then added, "I know about
Peshor and Dukat, but I never heard of this Burot
before."
"Neither did I, until I spoke with Kaidan," Sisko
acknowledged. "I'm afraid I don't know much about
him." He brushed that aside, and continued, "At any
rate, those are the four major candidates. There are
also two possible long shots, but we'll ignore them for
now--Gul Kaidan assures me that they can be dealt
with by his own faction."
"And what does Gul Kaidan want of us, then?"
"Well," Sisko said, "if any of those four leading
contenders should be embarrassed somehow--
embarrassed by Cardassian standards, of course--
then that one would become a less likely candidate."
Kira considered that for a moment, then de-




manded, "Why are we bothering with this, Com-
mander? What difference does it make who becomes
the heir? They're all Cardassians ...."
"Major."
She glared silently at him.
"For one thing, Major," Sisko said, "once the
Goran Tokar has made his choice, Gul Kudesh will
have no reason to continue his searches on Bajor and
Andros."
Kira had to concede that much. "So we want a fast
decision," she said, "but does it matter which is
chosen?"
"According to Gul Kaidan, it does," Sisko ex-
plained. "He tells me that one of the contenders, Gul
Burot, has a weakness that will prevent him from ever
assuming power."
"What sort of weakness?" Kira asked warily.
"I don't know--officially," Sisko said. "I think,
however, that it's fairly clear that what Gul Kaidan
was referring to is some form of blackmail; his faction
has some hold over this Gul Burot." "What sort of hold?"
"I don't know--and Major, I don't want to know.
Neither do you. We don't want to involve ourselves
too deeply in Cardassian internal affairs."
Kira started to say something, then caught herself as
she realized that Sisko was right.
"At any rate, I think it might be best for Bajor if the
Goran Tokar were to name this Gul Burot as his heir,"
Sisko said. "And I think that if we put your contacts
on Bajor to work with us, and do a little careful
research, we can improve Gul Burot's chances."
Kira looked at him for a long moment, then said,
"You want to set it up so that one faction can
blackmail the leader of the other."
"Bluntly, yes."

"That stinks," Kira said. "I thought I was done with
anything this dirty once the Cardassians left."
Sisko could sympathize with that. "Diplomacy is
war by other means," he said. "And isn't it better to
fight this way than with phasers and photon torpe-
does?"
Kira considered that for a long, silent moment, then
said, "So we have to find ways to embarrass the other
three candidates?"
"If we can, yes."
"What embarrasses a Cardassian?"
Sisko smiled. "Failure," he said. "What else?"
"And what if we fail?"
The smile vanished.
"In that case, Major," Sisko said, "we will have a
war. I don't think the Cardassians will take kindly to
any attempts at influencing their internal politics. I
doubt the Federation will look favorably on it, for that
matter. We're risking our careers, our lives, this
station, and the entire Bajoran system on this."
It was Kira's turn to smile. "Now you sound like my
old comrades in the Resistance," she said. "Is that good?"
Kira nodded. "I think we can probably arrange
something where at least one or two candidates are
concerned. Gul Burot might be tricky--he was on
Bajor so little..."
"But we don't want to eliminate him anyway,"
Sisko said, completing her sentence.
"Exactly," Kira said enthusiastically. "Gul Dukat
and Gul Peshor ought to have some sort of weakness
in their records we can exploit--or manufacture, if
necessary. I'll need to talk to some people on Bajor
about that, people I knew during the occupation. And
I'll have to see my friends in person; we don't want
anyone overhearing."




"That will still leave Gul Kudesh."
Kira frowned. "He's going to be the difficuli one--
unless there's something..." She paused, obviously
deep in thought, and Sisko waited patiently.
"I wonder," she said finally, "since Gul Kudesh is
behind the raids--if he really is--whether we can do
something with that," Kira said. "If something were
to go spectacularly wrong with one of his little
investigations..." Her voice trailed off as she
thought. Then she roused herself, and said, "At the
very least we ought to be able to come up with a way to
embarrass Dukat and Peshor." She gestured impa-
tiently. "When do we start?"

"That should do it," O'Brien said. He closed the
panel, typed in a quick order, and waited while the
replicator produced a cup of coffee.
"It's not really coffee I'm concerned with," Quark
said, as the engineer picked up the cup and took a sip.
O'Brien glanced at the Ferengi barkeep. Far shorter
than most adult humans, with immense ears and
hairless, bulging heads, the Ferengi looked rather
foolish to many humans, at least until the pointed
teeth showed, but O'Brien was used to them. While he
wasn't sure he liked Quark, he knew the Ferengi was
an intelligent person.
"I like to use coffee as my test sample," he ex-
plained. "To be honest, Quark, I don't think I'd better
sample any of your usual goods when I'm on duty."
He didn't mention that he had more of a reason than
usual for wanting to stay sober--he had now seen the
crablike creatures on computer displays on three
separate occasions. His imagination was running
away with him, and liquor could only make it worse.
He took another sip, tasting it carefully, then said,
"And besides, coffee seems to be what gives it the

most trouble. This tastes fine to me, so I'd say we've
got it."
"Well, if not, you'll be hearing from me."
"I'm sure,," O'Brien said. "That's why I try to do it
right the first time; if I don't, I'll spend the rest of my
life fixing these infernal replicators of yours." He
gulped the rest of the coffee, while Quark typed in an
order for something rather more exotic.
While he waited, the Ferengi said jestingly, "Oh,
come now, O'Brien, you love tinkering with these
machines, and you know it. If you weren't fixing them,
what would you do with yourself?."
"I'd see a lot more of my wife, for one thing,"
O'Brien replied, disposing of the empty cup. "And
maybe I'd get a better look at the computers on that
ship out on upper pylon two."
He didn't see Quark's eyes light up with interest.
"What ship is that?" Quark asked.
O'Brien glanced at him. "Oh, Dax picked up a
derelict that had come through the wormhole," he
said. "It's mostly pretty primitive, but the computer
circuitry is something special--it looks like a
Besrethine neural net, and the folks at the Daystrom
Institute would just love to know how to make one
work."
"A Besrethine what?"
"Besrethine neural net. It's a computer design the-
ory that no one's ever gotten to work--or no one in
,adpha Quadrant, at any rate. It'd be a major advance
if we could build the things."
"And this ship has one of these?"
"It appears to..."
Just then O'Brien's comm badge chirped. "Dax to
O'Brien," it said.
With a sigh, O'Brien tapped it. "O'Brien here," he
said. "What's broken now?"




CHAPTER
8

"A SIMPLE FISSION P1LE iS hardly an indication of an
advanced technology," Dax remarked as she studied a
display screen.
"You know as well as I do that a culture can be more
advanced in some areas than others," O'Brien replied
from behind the console as he worked on the circuits
feeding Dax's display. The station's computers were
malfunctioning againmor at any rate, not operating
the way Dax and O'Brien wanted them to, but wheth-
er that was because something was broken or because
something was Cardassian-built was not always clear.
"We can't make a Besrethine net work, and they can."
"If that's really what the ship's computer is," Dax
said.
O'Brien shrugged. "It certainly looks like one. And
even if it isn't, those information conduits weren't
quite like anything I ever saw. Sometimes just being
different can teach us a lot."
"The crew was certainly different," Dr. Bashir

added. He was not working at the moment, but simply
hanging around, watching the others. 'Tve checked
the records, and there isn't anything quite like those
beings reported anywhere in the entire Alpha Quad-
rant. I'd love to get one of them into the lab."
"You will not take them apart," Commander Sisko
said, startling the three of them. Bashit turned and
Dax looked up to find that Commander Sisko had
emerged from his office and was standing nearby, with
Major Kira just behind him.
O'Brien started, but kept his attention on the
isolinear optical chips.
"I didn't hear you come out," Bashit said.
"I didn't particularly want you to," Sisko replied.
"Commander, you said I wasn't to dissect them?
Certainly not right now, but I don't see why I
shouldn't have that opportunity eventually .... "
"Dr. Bashit," Sisko said, "quite aside from the fact
that both Cardassia and Bajor claim ownership of the
derelict, so that I have agreed not to interfere with it
until further notice, we know nothing about the
culture or mores of these visitors. Many cultures,
including most of those developed by our own species,
have strong prohibitions against disturbing the re-
mains of the dead; until we know otherwise, we must
assume that these beings may have had similar restric-
tions. It may well be that they were sent through the
wormhole in a sort of Viking funeralmafter all, all
other known wormholes are unstable; it may be that
whoever sent these unfortunates expected the worm-
hole to collapse on them. It may also be that the ship
was sent as a trial run, and others may be appearing at
any time, others who might not be pleased to learn
that we have disassembled their dead compatriots.
Until more is known about the customs and beliefs of
the ship's crew, we must show whatever respect we




can~ and that being the case, it would be inappropriate
to remove them from their ship, let alone to dissect
them."
"But, Commander..."
"Doctor, we don't even know for certain what
killed them, do we?"
Reluctantly, Bashir admitted, "No. But I still think
asphyxiation is the most likely cause."
"Chief, I believe you said the ship's computer
technology could be quite valuable?" Major Kira
asked.
O'Brien tapped the final circuit card into place and
asked, "How's that, Lieutenant?"
'tit checks out now, Chief," Dax replied.
O'Brien got to his feet~ brushing dust from his
uniform, and said, "Yes, Major, I was mentioning that
that ship's computer appears to use a Besrethine
neural net, and if so, yes, it's priceless."
"Valuable enough that the Federation might send a
starship to protect it?"
Sisko refused to react, but inside he seethed. Kira
was supposed to be thinking about how to discredit
three Cardassian politicians and prevent a war, so that
a starship wouldn't be needed. She wasn't still sup-
posed to be figuring ways to coax Federation firepower
out here. She generally had a tendency to hang on to
ideas too long.
Sisko did not particularly want any starships out
here; he preferred to handle matters himself.
O'Brien looked at Sisko for guidance, but the com-
mander's expression gave nothing away. "I wouldn't
know about that, Major," he said.
"Protect it from whom?" Dr. Bashir asked, puzzled.
"From the Cardassians," Kira said. "They do claim
to own it, Doctor--and if that computer technology is
so powerful, I doubt we want them to have it."

Sisko came to O'Brien's rescue. "Major, fight now
we aren't concerned with the derelict; there will be
plenty of time to deal with it later."
"Of course, Commander," Kira agreed. "You un-
derstand, I'm sure, that as Bajor's senior representa-
tive here on DS-Nine I take an interest in the property
of the Bajoran people. That ship was salvaged in
Bajoran space by a Bajoran station, so that makes it,
and the design of its computers, Bajoran property; the
Federation has no claim to it."
"That remains to be determined, Major..." Sisko
objected.
"Of course, fight now we aren't concerned with the
derelict, are we, Commander?" Kira asked sweetly.
Sisko glared at her, then glanced at the others.
"Chief, don't you have work to do elsewhere? Dr.
Basfir, don't you have any patients waiting?"
Neither man answered in words; instead, reluctant-
ly, they both headed for the main turbolift.
"Lieutenant Dax, would you see that a runabout is
prepared for launch?" Kira said, as O'Brien and
Bashir departed. "I'm going clown for a conference
with some people on Bajor." She glanced at Sisko, and
then added, "And while I'm gone, I trust that any
salvaged vessels belonging to the Bajoran people will
remain undisturbed by our Federation guests?"
"No one will be interfering with any salvaged ships
while you're gone," Sisko said, "whether they're the
property of the Bajoran people or not--and the
question of who owns what will wait, as well."
Major Kira stepped onto the other turbolift without
replying, and sank out of sight.

Quark wiped idly at the bar as he thought.
Business at Quark's Place was much as usual--a
few people were playing Dabo for disgustingly low




stakes, while a few more were sitting about chatting as
they ate and drank, and upstairs a couple of customers
with more money and more time on their hands than
they needed were sampling the erotic possibilities of
the holosuites.
He made a decent living off this place, but it wasn't
about to make him rich, and the goal of every Ferengi,
himself included, was to become rich. Very rich.
Fabulously rich. Incredibly, unbelievably rich.
And while owning a bar, restaurant, casino, or other
such business--Quark's Place partook of all of them
mcould provide a good start on a fortune, it was
never going to make him that wealthy. So why was he here?
Never mind that that Earthman, Sisko, had black-
mailed him into staying on when the Cardassians had
first pulled out; why hadn't he left since then?
Because a place like Deep Space Nine was fraught
with possibilities, that was why. Out here on the
frontier, with all the traffic passing through to and
from the wormhole, business opportunities ought to
be popping up on all sides.
So why, Quark asked himself, hadn't he cashed in
on those possibilities yet?
He glanced up, and saw his nemesis walking by--
Odo, the station's constable.
That was why he hadn't cashed in--because Odo
had prevented it.
Odo was a shapeshifter--he generally wore a
humanoid form to fit in, and managed reasonably
well, though there was always a certain unfinished
look to the features, and the skin color was a bit off.
His natural form, however, was a thick orange-red
liquid. And with a little effort, he could disguise
himself as almost anything.
Quark had never quite figured out why Odo could

do such a flawless job of imitating tables, chairs, wall
panels, glassware, and the like, but still couldn't do a
nose properly. Maybe it was a trick to make Quark
forget how good Odo was at inanimate objects, be-
cause that was how Odo had foiled most of Quark's
best schemes. An extra table or chair would never be
noticed, so Odo could listen in on all those private
conversations that were essential for any really lucra-
tive business deal.
And all the best deals, of course, were on the wrong
side of the law, and that annoying shapeshifter had
therefore insisted on scuttling them.
Quark suspected... no, Quark was convinced that
Odo was out to get him, that the constable had set
himself a goal of finding a way to utterly ruin Quark
once and for all, and that any time he wasn't busy
elsewhere, Odo was somewhere in Quark's Place,
disguised as a customer or a bottle or a Dabo wheel,
listening for some way to destroy Quark.
But right now, there was Odo, walking away
through the crowd farther down the Promenade,
which meant that for the next five minutes or so
Quark could be absolutely sure that none of the tables
or walls were watching and listening.
And that was important, because O'Brien's visit to
repair the replicators had let Quark know about
another of those tempting business possibilities.
O'Brien had said that there was an alien derelict out at
the end of upper pylon two, one with a unique
computer design ....
As Quark quickly broke through the station's com-
puter security to get at the complete reports on this
find, he wondered whether he could get more for a
completely unknown technology through a private
sale, or at an open auction.




CHAPTER
9

HER SHIFT WAS OVER, and Jadzia Dax called up her
daily log to check before leaving Ops.
She was startled to see that part of it was missing--
the record skipped from the neutrmo surge that had
indicated an arrival through the wormhole to prepar-
ing the Ganges for Major Kira's departure. Everything
concerning the capture and exploration of the alien
derelict was gone.
She ran a quick computer check; the data did not
appear anywhere. Whether it was really irretrievably
lost, or had simply been temporarily mislaid some-
where in the computer's memory, she couldn't
determine--at least, not without a great deal of work.
Perhaps this was yet another manifestation of the
Cardassian-built computer's obsession with security
and proper procedure--or perhaps it was an actual
malfunction.
In either case, Dax was tired--besides capturing

and exploring the derelict, and all her usual duties, she
had been trying to make sense of the situation with
the Ashtarian scientific expedition. The technicians
making the adjustments to the Ashtarian ship's en-
gines, to allow it to go through the wormhole to
Gamma Quadrant without disturbing the entities that
lived in and maintained the wormhole, had reported a
problem of some kind that they were unwilling to
explain; they had insisted that Dax had to see the
situation for herself. She had promised that she would
do so.
She had spent all her spare time for this shift, when
she might ordinarily have been meditating and restor-
ing her energies, in trying to find information on the
Ashtarian cultures and technologies, and failing. The
only reports she found simply gave the date of initial
contact with the Federation and a few other basic facts
and statistics, such as the interesting datum that
Ashtarians and most of the other species on their
home planet had only one sex; nothing in the records
said anything at all about anything in Ashtarian
technology that might cause problems for the techni-
cians.
Had that omission perhaps been due to a computer
failure, too? She had assumed it simply meant that
nothing else was on record about the Ashtarians.
Whether it had been a malfunction or not, the
computer was definitely misbehaving now.
Well, dealing with it was not her job, and the
Ashtarians were waiting. It was another problem for
Chief O'Brien, she supposed.
She hesitated; O'Brien had gone off duty a few
minutes before, and would be meeting his wife,
Keiko, about now. The two were planning a quiet
dinner together.




From what Dax had seen of them lately, they
needed a quiet dinner together.
She wasn't going to interrupt them. It was just as
important--probably more so--to keep the human
elements of Deep Space Nine working properly as it
was the mechanical ones, and their emotional well-
being was more important than the merely physical.
She wasn't going to interrupt the O'Briens--but
should she see if she could find the problem herself?.
No, she decided, the Ashtarians were important,
too.
The computer malfunction was trivial, really; it
could wait for a shift or two. She logged off, signaled
to the ensign on watch that she was departing, and
then headed for her own quarters.

Quark had studied the reports with interest, then
tried to remove every trace of his intrusion--but
when he went back to check, he found that the
relevant chunk of the Ops duty officer's log had
vanished completely.
That wasn't anything he had done--he couldn't
possibly have been so clumsy!
Was someone else interested in the derelict, as well?
That meant Quark would need to move quickly if
he was to obtain this prize before his unknown
competition, whoever it might be, could get to it.
He wished he had some idea of how to move; as long
as that ship was moored to the station, he couldn't see
any way he could get at it and get away with it.
He certainly couldn't just sneak aboard; the reports
made it clear that Sisko had had the vessel sealed, and
even if Quark did get aboard--by transporter,
perhaps--the radioactivity would be lethal. Besides,
even if he could figure out the computer design that

O'Brien was so excited about--and he wasn't sure he
could; he wasn't an expert--it wouldn't be as valuable
if Sisko and Kira had it, as well. Quark wanted an
exclusive.
For that, he had to have the ship entirely to himself,
and the only way he could do that was if he could
claim ownership and make it stick.
To do that, he needed to claim salvage rights, and he
couldn't do that while it was docked to Deep Space
Nine.
And he couldn't see any way to get it loose. Sisko
would never be foolish enough to let such a treasure
go..,,
Would he?
Not in the ordinary course of events, but Sisko
could be flexible in some ways. Quark knew that the
big Earthman would never take a bribe, or anything so
obvious as that, but under the right circumstances he
would send that derelict away. If he thought it was a
danger, that its presence threatened the station, or if
he believed someone else had a valid claim to it, or if
he thought, for any other reason in his bizarre altruis-
tic logic, that removing it from the station would be
the right thing to do.
Of course, there was no reason for Sisko to think
that removing it was the right thing to do.
Quark decided that he would just have to convince
Sisko to remove it anyway.

Dax stepped into her quarters with the intention of
getting a quick snack and a fresh uniform before going
out to the Ashtarian ship, and sensed that something
was wrong.
She quite couldn't place what it was; she paused just
inside the door and looked about, listening intently.




She could hear something, she realizedwa faint
growling or rumbling sound. She couldn't identify it,
or locate it.
She listened for a moment, then shrugged and went
on about her business.

Miles O'Brien had been looking forward to his
dinner with Keiko all day. She had arranged for
someone to look after their daughter, Molly; this
would be just the two of them, in a private room at
one of the Promenade's eating establishments--not
Quark's Place, but a more elegant one that offered
patrons whatever computer-generated decor they
might want.
He was waiting for his wife at the entrance when he
heard something moving behind him; he glanced
back, into the restaurant's dim interior.
A large crablike creature was moving about, appar-
ently aimlessly, paying no attention to O'Brien.
O'Brien blinked.
Now, that was interesting, he thought. Up until he
had boarded the derelict, he'd never seen anything
sentient that even vaguely resembled the poor dead
beings from the Gamma Quadrant--but here was a
rather similar fellow, right here on DS9. It seemed to
be a bit smaller, and he couldn't see its color in the
poor light, but the general configuration was very
much like that of the crew of the derelict.
That was quite an odd coincidence:
"Miles!"
O'Brien turned and found Keiko practically in his
arms. He embraced and kissed her quickly.
When he turned to lead her into the restaurant, the
crablike being was gone.

Dax stared down at the little rodentlike creature in
its clear plastic compartment; it stared back up at her,
chittering happily.
It was roughly the size and shape of an Earth
chipmunk, but a darker brown, with no stripeswand
with tiny seven-fingered hands. It held a tool resem-
bling a screwdriver in one little black glove.
This creature, she was told, was a snuguortwthe
Ashtarian equivalent of a servomotor.
"You see, it's not so much a technical problem," the
Bajoran technician explained, "as it is an ethical one.
The way the Ashtarians use those poor little things
just seems so cruel!"
"It's not cruel at all!" the Ashtarian chief scientist
protested. "The snuguorts have been genetically engi-
neered for their functionwthey live for it!"
Dax looked up at the one-eyed alien that towered
over her. "You're sure of that?"
"Lieutenant," the Ashtarian replied, "if we don't
keep them busy, they sicken and die. They love their
work. This is what they were created for. Besides, our
ship can't function without themwthe snuguorts
regulate the matter-antimatter mix for us. We're quite
incapable of operating the drive without themweven
if we had reflexes fast enough, and the snuguorts'
intuitive understanding of the drive's proper equilib-
rium, our hands are far too large to operate the
controls."
The Ashtarian raised its own immense seven-
fingered hand to demonstrate; its thumb alone was
almost as big as the snuguort's entire body.
"They can't use their warp drive inside the Celestial
Temple anyway," the Bajoran said. "I'd say that we
should keep these poor creatures of theirs here, and let
the Ashtarians go on without them!"




"Oh, and are we then to explore the Gamma
Quadrant on impulse power? And starve while we do
it?" the Ashtarian demanded.
"Starve?" Dax's attention had largely fallen back to
the furry little animal; now she looked back up at the
Ashtarian, startled.
The Ashtarian managed to look uncomfortable,
despite its inhuman features. "Perhaps I shouldn't
have mentioned that," it said.
"But you did, you monster!" the Bajoran said.
Dax held up a hand. "Please, Ensign, no racial
epithets. Chief scientist, now that you have mentioned
it, would you care to explain?"
The Ashtarian hesitated, then said, "Well, you see,
Lieutenant, snuguorts breed quite rapidly, which not
only supplies us with plenty of spare parts, but also
augments our diet. We Ashtarians are carnivores,
requiring fresh meat, and the snuguorts are the
only livestock aboard." It shrugged--which was an
interesting procedure, since Dax had not realized
it had shoulders; its meter4ong neck had seemed
to blend seamlessly into its chest. "It's simple effi-
ciency."
"It's heartless cruelty, Lieutenant," the Bajoran
insisted, "and if you allow this ship to proceed
through the wormhole, and risk offending the Proph-
ets with this barbarism, I'll file a complaint with the
provisional government."
Dax sighed. She hadn't had to handle anything
like this in centuries, not with any of her recent hosts
--not since, as Penzak Dax, she had negotiated
a truce among the three sentient species of Lauan
XII.
'Tll need to investigate this further," she said.
"Chief scientist, if you could provide the station's

computers with some information on the nature
and history of these... snuguorts, I'll see what I
can do."
She didn't mention that she intended to get some
rest first. This, like the alien derelict and the lost
computer records, could wait until later.




CHAPTER
10

TnE FORMER CARDASSIAN mining station that the Fed-
eration had renamed Deep Space Nine was a big place.
Its three hundred or so inhabitants mostly huddled in
the central core, around Ops and the Promenade and
the upper levels of the habitat ring. Visitors came and
went, but they stayed mostly in limited areas, as well.
Therefore, at any given time, large parts of the station
were likely to be empty.
And naturally, the areas where equipment wasn't
working right were among the most neglected.
That meant that although Chief O'Brien himself
was usually kept busy handling emergencies in the
core, some of his crew spent much of their time
wandering empty corridors, tracing faulty circuits and
repairing machinery no one was currently using.
Ensign Waru Teyshan, a Bajoran volunteer in
Starfleet service, found such assignments creepy in the
extreme, but he could hardly refuse them on that
basis. O'Brien and most of the other native Federation

people didn't seem to worry about spiritual matters
much; troubles of the soul and concerns about imma-
terial entities didn't interest them.
Waru wished he could be so calm about the unseen
realms, but his mother had been Vaiora to their
village, and he had grown up hearing regular reports
on the doings of the dead, and the actions, moods, and
preferences of gods and spirits of every sort.
Waru didn't have any of the higher perceptions
himself, at least not in any useful degree~ so he had
never actually been sure that he had seen a ghost or
other supernatural manifestation, but he was none-
theless convinced that the empty corridors of the
station still held the spirits of many of those the
Cardassians had slain during their brutal occupation
mand quite possibly various other ghosts as well.
Sometimes he thought he could hear them.
As he struggled to repair the connections in a
burned-out junction box halfway up upper pylon two,
he was sure he could hear something.
At first he had thougilt it was just the air currents in
a damaged ventilator somewhere, but as he spot-
welded the power couplings he realized it couldn't be
that--the sound was getting louder, and it wasn't
steady or rhythmic enough for a bad ventilator.
It wasn't much like voices, either--at least, not
Bajoran voices. It had the right sort of patterning for
speech, but it was a deep croaking noise, not quite like
any sound a human throat could produce.
What did ghosts actually sound like, though? Waru
had always assumed they still sounded Bajoran, but
really, why should they? After all, they were dead--
they didn't have throats anymore.
The sound grew still louder, and Waru put down the
welding torch to listen.
It was coming from farther up the pylon, toward the




alien ship that Chief O'Brien had been talking about
earlier, and Waru suddenly understood.
These weren't the Bajoran ghosts he was hearing;
these were the ghosts of the dead aliens that had been
found aboard that ship from the wormhole.
Waru wondered what they wanted. Could anyone
else hear them, or had he perhaps finally developed a
bit of his mother's talent?
He considered calling in a report about it, then
decided against it.
Chief O'Brien was a good man and a fine technolo-
gist, but he didn't know anything about ghosts.

Jake Sisko was tired and ready for bed; his Ferengi
buddy, Nog, had gone back to his own quarters, Jake's
father was busy somewhere as usual, and Jake just
wanted to drop onto his bed and go to sleep.
But now the stupid door of his room wouldn't open
to let him in.
He supposed it was just another stupid malfunction
in the crummy Cardassian equipment, and he should
call someone about getting it fixed, but he was too
tired. He curled up on a couch instead, and fell
instantly to sleep.

At first, independent contractor Muhammed Gold-
berg was embarrassed to be in Quark's Holosuite B,
but he told himself that was foolish. He was a grown
man, and if he wanted to try out one of the Ferengi's
sex fantasies, it wasn't anyone's business but his own.
He did his job, earned his pay, and if he wanted to
spend his free time and extra cash here, he had that
right. His Starfleet employers wouldn't mind--a per-
son's off-duty hours were his own.
And it wasn't as if he had any family on the station,

or as if any of the women here had shown any interest
in him,
That was what he told himself, and he knew that it
was true, but he was still embarrassed. His mother's
voice lingered somewhere in the back of his mind,
telling him that nice boys found better ways to express
their sexuality.
"Have fun," Quark said, with an amazingly offen-
sive leer, bringing Goldberg's thoughts back to the
here and now. "I'm sure you will," Quark added as he
backed out, grinning, and closed the door.
Goldberg didn't answer Quark's little sally. The
Ferengi hadn't exactly made him feel welcome when
he had inquired about the suite; Quark had acted as if
Goldberg was distracting him from more important
things. Goldberg resented that. He had almost turned
around and left.
But he was here now.
When the Ferengi was gone and the holosuite was
sealed, Goldberg looked around at the blank gridded
walls, took a deep breath, and said, "Computer, run
program XTC-four."
His palms were sweaty with anticipation, and he
wiped them on the thighs of his coverails as he waited.
The grid vanished, and he was standing in a col-
umned marble hall, looking down from a dais as a line
of women, chained at the wrists, entered the chamber
through a great golden door. A burly guard in open
vest and baggy pants directed them forward, and the
women obeyed. The fine golden chains jingled musi-
cally as they advanced toward him, eyes downcast;
one by one, in quick succession, they reached the foot
of the dais and knelt before him, the guard standing
behind them, his arms folded across his chest.
Goldberg caught his breath, then smiled. He looked
them over carefully.




A fine selection, he thought--blondes, brunettes,
redheads, a dozen women in all, kneeling at his feet.
A sound distracted him from his study of the slaves.
He looked up at the far door.
Something was coming through it, something low
and wide and a dull purple color. Goldberg blinked.
What was that? What was it doing in this fantasy?
Quark hadn't mentioned anything like that when he
went over the catalog of fantasies. Had the Ferengi
been so busy with his other business, whatever it was,
that he forgot to mention some feature of this sce-
nario?
The thing moved into the hall, walking on half a
dozen barbed and jointed legs; it looked something
like a crab with tentacles.
What was something like that doing here?
And whatever it was, whatever it was supposed to
be doing, Goldberg decided that he didn't want it
there.
"Computer," he said, "edit program; remove all
nonhumanoid intelligences."
Nothing happened, except that the purple thing
advanced toward him and began making ugly croak-
ing noises. The women were still kneeling silently, the
guard standing motionless behind them, all waiting.
They paid no attention to the intruding monstrosity.
"Computer, edit program," he repeated. "Remove
all nonhumanoid life-forms, now." The thing was still approaching.
"It's ruining my fantasy!" Goldberg shouted. "If
Quark thinks I'm paying for this... !" The creature paid no attention.
The slave gifts were still kneeling before him, the
guard still standing there; Goldberg decided that if
they could ignore the thing, so could he.

Or maybe, he thought, he could incorporate it into
the fantasy.
"If the one I choose displeases me," he said uncer-
tainly, "perhaps I'll give it to that monster." He had to
shout to be heard over the croaking.
The guard shifted his weight uneasily. "What mon-
ster, master?" he asked.
Goldberg blinked in astonishment. "That mon-
steW' he said, pointing.
The guard turned--and the crab-thing walked right
through him, clambered up onto the dais toward
Goldberg.
It wasn't part of the program, Goldberg realized
instantly; one hologram wouldn't go through another
from the same program like that. In fact, nothing
should be able to go through the hologram like that
unless something was wrong--the computer should
have compensated, to retain the illusion.
And if it wasn't part of the program, that meant that
the crab-thing was real.
And if the computer didn't compensate for it, then
the computer didn't know it was in here!
"Computer, end program? Goldberg shrieked, as
the crab-thing reached up toward him with a lumpy
tentacle. "Let me out of here!"
The marble walls vanished; guard and slave girls
were gone; but the crab-thing was still there, and the
door of the holosuite didn't open.
The tentacle touched Goldberg's face; the croaking
made his ears ring.
He screamed, and fainted.

Odo looked down over the railing at the Prome-
nade, at the late-shift crowd. Most of the people below
him were Bajorans, going about their business--




visiting the temple, getting a drink at Quark's, what-
ever. A few humans were scattered in among them,
brought by the Federation, and a handful of other
species were present, as well--a Ferengi, a pair of
Klingons, and others.
None of the Ashtarians were in sight; after one or
two visits shortly after their arrival, they had appar-
ently decided to keep to themselves.
Perhaps they got tired of having to stoop; many of
the doorways and ceilings were too low for them.
That might be just as well. A new species on the
station meant new possibilities for trouble.
Several of the shops were closed, and Odo let his
gaze pass quickly across them--and then stop.
Something had moved, down there in the darkness
of one of the businesses that was shut down for the
night.
He froze, then stared, hoping to see the movement
again.
Yes, there it was, in that boutique--a flicker of light
that shouldn't have been there.
The quickest way down was not the steps or the lift;
instead, Odo leapt over the rail, transforming himself
as he went, and drifted down to the lower level in the
shape of a small balloon.
The moment he touched down he transformed
again, to a small, furry animal that wasn't quite any
real species, but an approximation of several. In that
shape he scampered up to the closed doors of the
boutique, where he reared up on his hind legs and
peered in through the glass.
He saw the counter, the thickly carpeted consulta-
tion area with its chairs and displays, the holographic
equipment that allowed a customer to "try on"
clothes that didn't yet exist, the replicators that pro-
duced the garments to specification after all adjust-

86

ments had been made--but he didn't see anything
that didn't belong. No one was visible in the shop;
nothing moved. The only lights were the normal
indicators on the various machines.
He resumed his humanoid form, and used his
security clearance to open the locked door.
He searched the boutique carefully, and found
nothing out of the ordinary.
For a moment, he stood in the center of the room,
frowning.
He had seen a light in here--but no one was here
now. He had had the door of the shop in sight at all
times; no one could have left that way, and there were
not supposed to be any other exits.
Odo knew the station as well as anyone--quite
possibly better than anyone else. He had been here
since it was first built. This shop had no hidden exits.
But he had seen something in here, and it wasn't
here now.
Had someone beamed out, perhaps?
He would have to check the station's computer and
see whether any of the transporters had been used. He
would also check on the construction of this shop.
And he would keep a close eye on it for a time.
And that was about all he could do for the moment.
But he had seen someone or something in here, he
was sure; it had been real. He didn't imagine things.
And it couldn't very well have been a ghost.




CHAPTER
11

QUARK STOOD iN the doorway of Holosuite B, hands on
his hips, glaring at the blank walls.
He did not need this. He was busy trying to come up
with a scheme to get his hands on that ship from the
Gamma Quadrant, with its Besrethine computer; he
did not need to be distracted by whatever it was that
had terrified Goldberg.
He supposed it was another equipment failure.
Goldberg's description hadn't been very coherent, but
Quark didn't see what else it could have been.
The holosuite looked normal--but that didn't
mean anything; the machinery was all hidden away
behind those gray walls.
Quark stepped into the room, planning to run a few
simple tests; O'Brien might be able to fix the problem
more quickly if Quark could give him an idea what
was wrong.
Before he could say a word, though, a creature
stepped out of the far wall.

It wasn't like anything Quark had ever seen before;
it was low and wide, with a hard carapace and several
long, jointed legs, and a row of manipulating members
along the front.
He took a step back.
He could see why Goldberg had been startled, if
something like that had walked into the middle of his
fantasy.
Quark, however, was made of sterner stuff--or at
least, so he told himself. It didn't hurt that he had read
Dax's report, and recognized the creature as a mem-
ber of the species that had crewed the derelict on
upper pylon two.
But how could that be? Dax had said they were all
dead.
Presumably she had been wrong, because here one
of them was, walking slowly across the holosuite.
Interesting, that they could apparently walk through
walls without leaving a holemnot many species could
manage that.
Perhaps this was a projection of some sort. It wasn't
anything the holosuite was doing--Quark had thrown
the master switch, and shut the suite down, when
Goldberg screamed.
"Hello there," Quark said, backing warily toward
the door. "Can I help you?"
The thing made a harsh croaking noisewand van-
ished.

Silne Koryn had lived aboard Deep Space Nine for
almost three years, first as a "personal entertainer" for
a Cardassian mining executive, then briefly as a
refugee with nowhere else to go, and now as proprie-
tor of a small curio shop on the Promenade, where she
sold Bajoran religious relics and various souvenirs to




the travelers who visited the station while passing to
and from the wormhole.
She had not returned to Bajor when the liberation
came because there was nothing left back there for
her; her family had all died under the Cardassian
occupation, and her employment under the Cardas-
sians would mark her to some of the more patriotic as
a collaborator, to some of the more conservative as a
whore.
So she had stayed where she was, and tried to make
the best of it.
Her life on the station was quiet and unexciting,
and she liked it that way. She had settled into a daily
routine that for the first two hours never varied. She
would rise at the same time each day, eat the same
things for breakfast in the same amount of time, then
walk down the same connecting tunnel from her room
in the habitat ring to the Promenade in the station
core. There she would open her shop, tell the comput-
er to play back a particular recording of religious
chants, and seat herself at the counter to wait for
customers.
She always played the same recording to start; later
in the day she might vary it somewhat, depending on
her mood, but she always began the business day with
the exact same chants. The music soothed her; she
never tired of it, never considered changing it. It was a
link to her lost past, a comfort for her soul, and an aid
to the meditation she hoped would someday bring her
the inner peace the Cardassians had robbed her of.
Sometimes she imagined that she heard her moth-
er's voice among those chanting the ancient rituals.
At the close of business she would play the same
recording once again, wait for one particular chant to
end, then tell the computer to end the program; then
she would return to her quarters for the night.

The day after the alien ship popped out of the
wormhole, Silne finished breakfast, walked to her
shop, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
"Computer," she said, "play recording fifty-one
twenty-three B." She walked toward the counter,
expecting the clear, high voice of the Vedek Paroff to
begin the familiar hymn of praise.
Instead, a guttural croaking came from the hidden
speakers, a sound like nothing she had ever heard
before, and Silne stopped in midstride, frozen in
astonishment.
For a moment she was too surprised and disori-
ented to react, but finally she angrily said, "Cancel!
Playfifty-one, twenty-three, B."
The croaking grew louder.
"Cancel," she said again.
Could she possibly have misremembered the num-
ber, after all this time? "Computer," she began.
Then she stopped.
The computer had ignored the cancellation order.
The croaking was continuing.
She didn't recognize it. It might have been speech,
but not in any language she had ever encountered,
certainly not in any Bajoran language. She didn't
think the voice was humanoid at all.
And whatever it was, the sound was ugly, bestialm
almost evil.
"Cancel," she said again. "Cancel, cancel, cancel!
End program! Shut up!"
The croaking continued; nothing she could do
would stop it, it continued relentlessly until twenty
minutes later she fled her shop in tears, and almost
collided with Constable Odo on the Promenade out-
side.
When she led him into the shop a dozen voices were




singing to the glory of the Prophets of the Celestial
Temple.

Muhammed Goldberg lay back on the infirmary
bed, breathing deeply, as Julian Bashir read the moni-
tor.
"You're fine," Dr. Bashir said. "You could use some
more exercise, and you need to relax more .... "
"I was trying to relax!" Goldberg interrupted.
"Yes, well," Bashir said, "you'll want to keep at it,
but perhaps somewhere other than Quark's rolo-
suites."
"But... Doctor, did I really see that thing, or did I
imagine it?"
Bashir studied the readouts more closely. "There's
nothing that would indicate the possibility of halluci-
nations," he said. "I think we'll have to put it down
to a malfunction in the holosuite, and I'll report
it to Chief O'Brien as soon as you're back on your
feet."
Goldberg shook his head, unconvinced. "The
holosuite computer didn't even know it was there," he
said. "If it's a malfunction, it's a bad one."
"Well, perhaps it is," Bashir said. "At any rate,
there's no sign of any malfunction in you. You can go
whenever you like, or if you'd like to rest here for a
while..."
"I think I would," Goldberg said. He closed his
eyes.
Bashir's mouth twisted wryly. The poor man was a
nervous wreck. The whole thing could have been his
imagination--the station's medical equipment was
hardly sensitive enough to rule out the possibilityw
but telling him that would be cruel. Better by far to
blame it on Quark's gadgets.

Bashir turned away, intending to enter his report in
the computer, but something caught his eye, and he
froze.
The monitor on the next bed was reporting life
signs--but the bed was empty.
Bashir stepped closer and studied the readouts.
The sensors were reporting the presence of a
nonhumanoid life-form: a hydrogen-methane breather
with a triple circulatory system. It appeared to be in
good health.
But the bed was empty.
Bashir waved a hand across the bed, and felt the
surface cautiously; he found nothing but empty air.
The creature was not merely invisible--either it was
intangible as well, or it wasn't there.
The bed must be malfunctioning, Bashir decided.
An invisible, intangible methane-breather wouldn't
register. Even if one could exist, in order to survive on
the station it would have to carry its own air supply,
and that couldn't be intangible ....
He took a quick look at the room environment
monitor. No, there were no abnormal levels of hydro-
gen or methane, only the usual tiny traces.
There was no alien on that bed. The machinery was
registering something that was not there.
Then, abruptly, the readouts dropped to zero-m
all except the body-pressure indicator, which first
flicked upward, then dropped, as if the alien had
shifted its weight and then gotten out of the
bed.
That sort of detail did not seem like the result of
faulty machinery. Bashir stood motionless for a mo-
ment, listening intently, watching for any disturbance
of any kind.
All he could hear was Goldberg's breathing. Every-




thing looked utterly normal. The empty bed now
registered as empty.
It had to have been either a ghost or a malfunction,
and Bashir didn't believe in ghosts.
He would have to call Chief O'Brien down for a
look.

O'Brien's much-anticipated dinner with Keiko had
been cut short before either had had more than a few
bites or spoken more than a few words. He had
assured her that he would do his very best to be back
soon.
By the time Keiko finally dropped off to sleep,
feeling very alone and neglected, her husband had
logged over thirty calls, all tagged as various levels of
emergency.
Constable Odo had only logged about two dozen,
not counting his own mysterious intruder in the
Promenade boutique. Several of these incidents he
had, after investigation, reluctantly passed on to
O'Brien.
"I am sorry about this, Chief," the shapeshifter said
as he relayed the latest, a woman who had reported
strange crablike aliens spying on her through the
viewer in her bedroom. "I don't like making work for
you, and I would prefer to handle it myself, but it does
appear to be a technological problem." He glanced at
O'Brien's assistant, Ensign Waru. "If there's anything
you know of that will help me to find the parties
responsible, do tell me."
"I don't bloody know if anyone is responsible,"
O'Brien replied from inside the control console for
Holosuite B, "but if someone is, and it's not just these
damnable Cardassian machines all breaking down
at once, and you find whoever it is... Constable,

I want five minutes with him. Just five minutes, and
then you can throw me in the brig and have what's
left."
"I don't think that would do much good," Ensign
Waru muttered, as he handed O'Brien a variable-
beam cutter. "You can't hit ghosts."




CHAPTER
12

"I CAN'T FIND a damn thing wrong with any of it,"
O'Brien complained, in response to Commander
Sisko's inquiry.
The two men were standing in Ops, Sisko having
just emerged from his office and O'Brien having just
emerged from the turbolift.
Sisko frowned. O'Brien looked exhausted--and
that was no surprise. Sisko had looked over the list of
calls O'Brien had answered.
He had almost made one of his own when he found
Jake sleeping on the couch because the door to his
bedroom wouldn't open. Sisko had tried the door
himself, and had eventually gotten it open by using a
manual override--after which it behaved normally. A
quick investigation had not shown any reason for its
misbehavior, but Sisko wasn't an expert; he had been
about to call O'Brien when he had remembered that
O'Brien had planned a quiet evening'with his wife.
Instead, Sisko had called Ops, and learned that

there were dozens of malfunctions occurring all over
the station.
This was not just normal equipment failure, Many
of the problems had appeared as strange manifesta-
tions, as voices and images from nowhere, and it was
only after some searching that it was determined that
every one of them could have been produced by some
piece of the station's machinery--viewers, communi-
cators, holographic projectors, and so on.
For so many to misbehave at once, and in such odd
ways, was not normal.
O'Brien had been on the job, though, so Sisko had
gotten a few hours of sleep and gone about his own
business, studying as much as he could find in the
station records of the personal histories of the four
Cardassian politicians who Gul Kaidan had said
might become the Goran Tokar's heir.
He hadn't found any fatal flaws in any of their
backgrounds, which was unfortunate--a juicy scan-
dal in Dukat's or Peshor's or Kudesh's past would
have made it that much easier to ensure Burot's
selection and avoid a war.
Of course, Sisko thought, if there had been any
obvious scandal, some Cardassian muckraker would
undoubtedly have found it already.
It would have been nice had one turned up, though.
The Cardassian situation had been his primary
concern, so Sisko had given the various malfunctions
on the station little thoughL He had expected to find a
brief report of the problems and their solution waiting
for him in his office, and when no such report was to
be found he had stepped out and found O'Brien just
arriving.
O'Brien had obviously not made a report because
he hadn't yet solved the problem. From his appear-
ance, he also hadn't slept since the previous morning.




"I assume you've looked for a central cause for the
difficulties," Sisko said.
"Of course, sir." O'Brien's tone made it quite clear
that he was offended by the question but attempting
to hide it. "Every malfunction or intrusion has been
something that the station's central computer could
have caused, and most of them have been things the
computer should have prevented, so naturally, I've
been checking the computer very carefully. I can't find
anything wrong with it--unless you count that it's
Cardassian."
Sisko nodded thoughtfully. "What about that alien
intelligence that infested it some time ago?" he sug-
gested. "That caused several systems failures, trying
to keep our attention. Could it have gotten loose?"
O'Brien, bleary with fatigue, needed a moment to
recall what Sisko was talking about; then it came to
him. An alien probe that had popped out of the
wormhole some time back had carried software that
appeared to be almost a form of life, and it had gotten
into the station's computers and caused some difficul-
ties before O'Brien had found a way to confine it.
He didn't think of it as an "alien intelligence,"
though; he had given it a name.
"The Pup, sir?" O'Brien asked. He shook his head.
"Oh, I checked that first thing; it's still safely in its
doghouse. It's not involved."
"This rash of malfunctions does seem similar,
though," Sisko remarked.
"Yes, sir, it does," O'Brien agreed, "so I checked for
any other intelligences infesting the computer, and I
haven't found any--not yet, anyway." He sighed.
"Several of the incident reports include descriptions
of crablike aliens like those aboard the derelict on
upper pylon two, so I thought that the ship might have

introduced some sort of program or virus into our
computer, but I haven't found any trace of one."
"Could there be one you haven't found?"
"Anything's possible, sir," O'Brien said. "In a uni-
verse where creatures like Q or those things in the
wormhole exist... well, anything's possible."
"But you haven't found any such program," Sisko
said--he made it a statement, not a question.
"No, sir," O'Brien replied. "And frankly, I don't
expect to."
Sisko frowned. "Then do you have any idea what
else it could be?"
O'Brien shrugged wearily. "Ensign Waru thinks it's
ghosts, sir, and right now I'd say that seems as good an
explanation as any."

"It's those dead aliens," Waru said, putting down a
newly empty synthale beaker. "It's their ghosts caus-
ing all the trouble."
"I don't believe in ghosts," Dr. Bashir replied.
"Then maybe," Quark suggested, speaking over
Bashir's shoulder as he delivered the doctor's drink,
"if it's not the dead aliens, it's whatever killed those
dead aliens."
Bashir turned, startled. "Oh?" he said. "And what
would that be?"
"How should I know?" Quark replied. "I'm just a
bartender. It's a big galaxy, Doctor--there are energy
beings out there, there are nanires, there are millions
of different life-forms that could be responsible. And
it could be ghosts, whether you believe in them or
not--how do you know that there aren't creatures in
the Gamma Quadrant that do create ghosts when
they, ah... 'discorporate'?"
"You think these beings might somehow do that?"




Bashir asked, intrigued with the idea. It was much
more interesting than a mundane breakdown in the
station's equipment.
"What do I know about it?" Quark put a hand on
his chest. "I saw one, but that's all I know. I'm no
purple crustacean; I'm as humanoid as you are, and
you're the doctor here."
"As humanoid..." Bashir looked at the Ferengi's
immense, thickly ridged ears, his bulging forehead,
and his pointed teeth; he smiled wryly. "Of course."
And in fact, the little barkeep had a point. It was, as
Quark said, a very big galaxy, and anything was
possible--but still, ghosts haunting the station?
Bashir couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.
"Maybe they aren't really dead," he suggested.
"Maybe it's some sort of astral projection."
"There you go, Doctor," Quark agreed. "It could be
something like that?' He nodded, then turned away,
,headed for the next table.
"Did you hear Dr. Bashir?" he asked the customers
there. "He believes that the crew of the derelict isn't
really deadmthey're using psychic powers to attack
the station, to soften us up for an invasion! If I were
Commander Sisko, I'd cut that thing loose this min-
ute!"
Twenty minutes later, as Quark was telling yet
another tableful of customers about the deadly powers
of the ghosts from the Gamma Quadrant, a figure
loomed up silently behind him; Quark knew immedi-
ately, from the faces of his listeners, that someone was
there.
And he never had any doubt of just who it was.
"Hello, Constable," he said as he turned. "What
can I do for you?"
"You can tell me," Odo said, "just why you're

spreading these absurd stories. Are you deliberately
trying to create a panic?"
"Oh, now, Constable..." Quark began.
Odo was unyielding. "Are you?" he demanded.
"The stories aren't absurd at all," Quark protested.
"You can hardly claim that everything's normal
aboard DS-Nine! You and Chief O'Brien have been
chasing the ghosts all over the station for hours."
"I doubt very much that the problems we have been
experiencing are the work of ghosts," Odo replied.
"But they're happening," Quark said, "and they've
got some connection with that derelict Lieutenant
Dax intercepted--you can't deny that!"
"I don't deny it," Odo acknowledged. "I only ask
why you're stirring up your customers. I've received
complaints about it from people who are worried that
you'll start a panic."
"Me? Stirring ~ anyone?" Quark put a hand to
his chest and proclaimed histrionically, "Oh, Con-
stable, you wrong me! I'm just making light conver-
sation, trying to create a lively atmosphere for
my clientele .... "
"You've been telling scare stories about that derelict
ship nonstop for most of an hour," Odo said flatly. "I
want to know why."
Quark stared up at the shapeshifter for a moment,
then said, "I might as well tell you--maybe that's the
quickest way to get some action."
Odo considered the face of his nemesis. "What sort
of action did you have in mind?" he asked.
He knew what sort of action he would like to give
Quark, but unfortunately, he couldn't yet justify
throwing the Ferengi in a detention cell for a century
or so.
"I want that derelict off the station, of course,"


Quark replied, skating unusually close to the honest
truth. "Send it back into the wormhole, or drop it into
Bajor's sun, or give it to the Cardassians, I don't care,
but I want it away from the station. Those ghosts, or
whatever they are, are ruining my business!"
Odo lifted his intense gaze from Quark's loathsome
face and looked calmly around at the crowded bar-
room. He did not need to say a word to get his point
across--Quark's business looked perfectly healthy.
"I mean the holosuites, Constable!" the Ferengi
explained. "Since Goldberg got carriled out of
Holosuite B in a faint and started spreading those
scare stories of his, I haven't had a single customer
upstairs!"
At the time of Goldberg's arrival, Quark had con-
sidered the man a minor, if profitable, interruption in
the scheme to steal wor rather, salvage--the derelict
ship; now he was an important part of Quark's plans.
The ghosts, whatever they were, might be just what
Quark needed to get the ship loose from the station.
"So you're spreading your own scare stories, trying
to create a panic," Odo said.
"So I am trying," Quark explained, "to convince
our beloved Commander Sisko of the seriousness of
the situation. I know he won't listen to me when I
complain, but if a hundred people come pounding on
his office door demanding the derelict's removal he'll
have to do something. And the sooner he does it, the
better!"
"I am quite sure that Commander Sisko is aware of
the seriousness of the situation," Odo said dryly. "I
would point out that so far, no one has been hurt, no
lives have been endangered--the manifestations have
frightened people, but done no real harm."
"No harm!" Quark's expression was one of careful~

ly contrived outrage. "Constable, I'm losing money
every hour those suites up there stay empty!"
Odo stared at him for a moment longer. He sup-
posed that the Ferengi might even have a point, much
as he hated to admit it--though that hardly excused
any attempts at rabble-rousing.
"I will inform the commander of your concerns,
Quark," he said at last.
"Good," the Ferengi replied.
"But in the meantime," Odo continued, "you will
stop deliberately feeding your customer's fears. They
can do a perfectly adequate job of scaring themselves
and each other without your help."
"I..." Quark looked up at Odo's face, and decided
not to bother finishing his protest. "Have it your way,
Constable," he said, "have it your way. But there
really is something dangerous loose on this station,
and I'm not going to wait around to be killed by
it--or worse, bankrupted. If something isn't done
soon, I'll be leaving Deep Space Nine--and I won't be
the only one!"
The Ferengi watched as the shapeshifter turned and
stalked away, then allowed himself a smile.
He had no idea what was causing the malfunctions,
and he didn't really care; what he cared about was
getting that ship off the docking pylon.
If he'd thought of it, he would have tried to create
the disturbances himself, but someone or something
had done it for him. Goldberg and the rest might
convince Sisko that the derelict was dangerous and
would have to be removed.
And if Quark could get Sisko to dump the derelict
from the station, then all he needed was a ship with a
tractor beam to be able to claim salvage rights for
himself, on the grounds that it had been abandoned.




And Quark thought he knew where he could get a
ship--that Ashtarian scientific expedition was getting
very tired of waiting for clearance to go on through the
wormhole.
Then he frowned slightly.
What was causing the disturbances? What was it he
had seen in Holosuite B? And what had erased those
records from the computer?
Was someone else after the alien ship? He hadn't
found any other solid evidence, as yet, that he had
competition, but perhaps these disturbances were the
work of some other would-be salvager.
Perhaps whoever it was had done all this to get the
ship removed from the station, and intended to
snatch it up the moment it was free.
Well, if that was the case, Quark would just have to
get it first. The other salvager, whoever it was,
wouldn't know that anyone else was interested; Quark
had covered his own tracks perfectly.
But there wasn't any time to waste. If he was going
to beat the competition--if there was any
competition--he needed to have a ship with a tractor
beam ready to go on a moment's notice.
Sisko might dump the derelict at any time.

CHAPTER
13

"YEs, CONSTABLE," Sisko said, trying not to sound as
exasperated as he felt, "I'm well aware of the apparent
link between the derelict ship on upper pylon two and
these recent disturbances."
The two of them were standing by the turbolift in
Ops, where Odo had caught Sisko preparing to go
meet the returning Major Kira. Behind the command-
er Dax was at her station; she had had to postpone her
investigation of the Ashtarian situation until the
incidents were stopped.
Nearby, O'Brien was arguing with the station's
computers; Dr. Bashir had arrived on the same lift
that had brought Odo, but was standing to one side, a
mere observer, as the constable replied, "Then...
forgive me for asking, Commander, but in that case,
why haven't you already had the ship removed from
the station?"
"Because I had hoped," Sisko said, pointedly not
turning to look at O'Brien, "that the nature of the




problem could be determined, and the problem
solved, without risking the loss of something that
might turn out to be very valuable. If we dump that
ship, it's a safe bet that Gul Dukat will be here shortly
to collect it." He did not mention that this would help
Dukat take control of the Dja Bajora Karass, and
perhaps the Cardassian Empire.
"I'11 have it soon," O'Brien called. "The answer's
somewhere in this damned computer, I'm sure of it."
"Commander," Dr. Bashir interrupted, "surely you
aren't seriously proposing to dispose of that ship
before we've had a chance to study it properly?"
"I am considering it, Dr. Bashir," Sisko replied.
"Oh, but we can't throw it away, Commander!" Dr.
Bashir said, agitated by the thought of losing such a
prize. "If Quark's right--I mean, yes, I know that's
unlikely, that Quark would have hit on the truth, but
miracles can happen. If Quark's right, and those
creatures do somehow survive death, think of the
potential! Think what we might learn from them!"
"It would be a loss, sir, to give up that ship,"
O'Brien agreed.
"It would be a loss," Dax said, "but perhaps a
necessary one, if it truly endangers the station."
"If you don't cast that 'ghost ship' off," Odo said,
"you're going to have some very unhappy people.
Quark's made sure of that."
"I'm aware of that, Constable .... "
"That ship," Major Kira said, emerging from the
other lift, "is the property of the Bajoran people, and
the Federation has no right to dispose of it without
consulting them."
"And that," Sisko said, "is another reason that I
haven't ordered the derelict removed."
"But, Major," Odo protested, "that ship is disrupt-

ing the entire station. You've been on Bajor, you
haven't seen the situation .... "
"I've heard, Constable," Kira replied. "I was
briefed on the way up here. And just how certain are
we, might I ask, that it's really something aboard the
derelict that's responsible for the problems, and not
yet another Cardassian attempt to interfere with us?"
"Cardassian?" O'Brien asked, puzzled.
"In case you hadn't noticed, Chief, the Cardassians
are in the middle of a little competition to see who can
get the most out of the Bajoran system," Kira said.
"How do we know this isn't their doing?" She turned
to Dax. "Lieutenant, run a long-range sensor scan."
"Yes, Major," the Trill replied. She applied herself
to her console.
"Why would the Cardassians want to create these
apparitions?" Bashir asked. "It hardly seems their
style."
"Because they want to disrupt life here on Deep
Space Nine without taking the blame," Kira replied.
"It's not just that ship they want; if they can convince
us to leave the wormhole unguarded, they can claim it
for themselves."
"We're scarcely going to just go off and leave it,
ghosts or no ghosts," Sisko objected.
"But do the Cardassians know that?" Kira asked.
"All the Cardassians? Remember, some of the mem-
bers of the D Ta Bajora Karass have never been to
Bajor, never dealt with the Federation--if they be-
lieve their own propaganda, they may well see us as a
bunch of superstitious cowards."
"But, Major," O'Brien protested, "how could the
Cardassians be responsible? How could they do all
this?"
"The Cardassians built this station, Chief," Kira




pointed out. "We've found a few surprises aboard it
before; how do we know there aren't more? Maybe the
Cardassians deliberately built DS-Nine with booby
traps they could use from a distance, just in case they
ever had to put down a rebellion aboard. Maybe they
have some way to control the computer and override
all our programming .... "
"Oh, no," O'Brien said. "I've been through that
whole system half a dozen times, right down to the
binary level--it's a Cardassian system, and it's got a
mind of its own, after a fashion, but there's no built-in
override."
"Then what is causing the apparitions, if it's not
Cardassian interference?" Kira asked.
"The derelict," Odo said. "Really, Major, all this
subterfuge you suggest is hardly the Cardassian style;
their reaction to trouble was usually to shoot some-
body. If there had ever been a rebellion here during
their occupation, they'd have simply stood off and
blown the station to atoms. They wouldn't have
contrived an elaborate haunting."
Kira could hardly argue with that; she knew the
Cardassian national character as well as Odo did. "All
right, then," she said, "perhaps they've smuggled a
spy aboard who is responsible for the sabotage--that
wouldn't be very difficult, with all the traffic we have
through here."
"Scan completed, Major," Dax called.
Kira turned, expectantly.
"In addition to all the known and identified traffic,"
Dax said, "there are seven Cardassian ships. The
three we believe to have been responsible for the
intrusions into Bajoran space are moving in forma-
tion with two others along the border. There are also
two larger ships cruising deeper in Cardassian space,
at the extreme limit of our sensor range--both are

maintaining a constant distance from us, and one
appears to be shadowing the other', we can't get a good
fix on them, but both are about right for Galoreclass
warships. They appear to be unobtrusively and
unobjectionably patrolling the border."
"There, you see?" Kira turned back and confronted
Sisko triumphantly.
"Major, we've had Cardassians watching us at least
half the time ever since we first found the wormhole,"
Sisko pointed out. "One or two more don't prove
anything. I assume those ships are commanded by
Gul Kudesh, Gul Dukat, and Gul Kaidan, all keeping
an eye on one another." He turned to Dax. "Old man,
are there any transmissions beamed at the station
from any of those ships?"
"No, sir; no contact of any kind, on any frequency.
Subspace is quiet."
"There, Major," Sisko said. "How can that ship be
controlling the disturbances when it isn't transmitting
anything?"
"Maybe it's not doing anything right now... "Kira
began.
An alarm beeped loudly, and a screen lit red.
"Julian," Dax said sharply, interrupting the Bajoran,
"we have an injured woman on level fifteen--caught
in a security forcefield that came on without warn-
ing."
"On my way," Bashir called, heading for the trans-
porter.
For a moment the others were silent as Dax beamed
the doctor to the site of the disturbance.
"There were no transmissions from the Cardassian
vessel, Major," Dax pointed out.
"It's a coincidence," Kira said. "It couM be a
coincidence. Something malfunctioned, it wasn't--"
"The injured woman was fleeing croaking noises in




her quarters, where a crablike creature was displayed
on her viewscreen," Dax reported.
Kira's mouth opened and closed.
"How would Cardassians know what the crew of
the derelict looked like, Major? How could they have
arranged that little detail?" O'Brien asked
"How serious are the injuries?" Sisko demanded.
"A severed arm and second-degree burns," Dax
replied.
"That does it," Sisko said, ignoring Major Kira as
she groped for words. "Up until now they hadn't hurt
anyone, but now... Dax, I want that ship away from
this station. Open the mooring clamps and tractor it
out to an orbit at fifty thousand meters."
"Yes, sir." Dax shifted stations and worked the
panel expertly.
Sisko had started to turn away when she said, "It
won't let go."
He turned back. "What do you mean?"
Dax looked up from the controls and stared at him.
"I mean it won't let go, Benjamin. The computer is
refusing the command." "But how..."
And then a deep, harsh croaking came from speak-
ers on every side.

CHAPTER
14

"THE MOORING CLAMPS can be operated manually,"
Odo reminded Sisko quietly--or as quietly as he
could and still be heard, given the racket from the
speakers.
Sisko raised a hand in acknowledgment to the
shapeshifter, but he did not answer him directly;
instead he spoke to Dax, shouting to be heard over the
eerie alien sound.
"Record that," he said, "and see if you can translate
it. Or even just identify it."
"Yes, sir," Dax replied.
"Chief..." Sisko began, turning.
"I'm on it, Commander," O'Brien replied, before
Sisko could finish his order. "It's not anything in the
computer, like a virus, but whatever it is, it's using the
computer--I'm not sure just how it's doing it, but it
seems to be using the computer as a sort of conduit
between itself and whatever it's controlling, it's not
just telling the computer what to do."




Sisko had to listen intently to catch exactly what the
chief was saying; O'Brien was speaking loudly, but the
croaking was louder.
"A conduit from where?" Sisko asked, shouting. "Is
it something aboard the derelict that's responsible?"
"Yes, sir," O'Brien confirmed, "it's coming from
the derelict."
Sisko signaled at the main viewer and shouted,
"Let's take a look."
Major Kira hurried to her station and tapped
controls, and the image of the alien vessel, still tightly
secured to upper pylon two, appeared on the screen.
Sisko studied the scene carefully.
There were no clues to be seen there; the irregular
bright blue mass that had emerged from the wormhole
was, to all appearances, as inert as ever. Nothing
moved, nothing glowed; it simply hung there.
"Is someone alive over there, then?" Sisko asked.
"Could someone have been hidden aboard it, some-
one you three didn't find?"
"! don't know, sir," O'Brien answered. "We didn't
search it that carefully--not centimeter by centime-
ter, at any rate. There could have been shielded
compartments."
"So one of the crew might still be alive and attempt-
ing to communicate?"
Dax looked up. "Unlikely, Benjamin," she said,
somehow making herself heard without actually
shouting. "The sensors still register no signs of life
aboard the derelict."
"It could be shielded somehow," O'Brien repeated.
"Or it could be something other than those crab
creatures we thought were the crew," Dax suggested.
"They might have just been passengers, or even if they
were crew, perhaps part of the crew is another species,

something the sensors wouldn't recognize as life.
Nanites, for example. Or this could be something the
ship's computer is doing."
"Could that be it, Chief?." Sisko asked.
O'Brien shrugged without lifting his gaze from his
controls, and his fingers continued to press combina-
tions of keys. "It could be, sir, yes."
"Can you determine that somehow?"
O'Brien shook his head. "Sorry, sir, but there's no
way to tell. I mean, ifI can't even figure out just what's
happening in our own computers, I certainly can't tell
you anything about what's going on in the aliens'
computers."
Sisko considered that for a moment, wishing that
the croaking would stop long enough for him to
exchange a few words with his subordinates without
bellowing.
He did not appreciate having things hidden from
him like this. The station's computers were supposed
to do what the station crew told them, not obey
whatever whims some intruder might have.
And he could hardly think with that ghastly racket
pounding in his ears; it seemed to be growing steadily
louder.
"Cut it off," he ordered. "Override it. We'll figure
out what's causing it later; for now, just order the
computer to ignore commands from the derelict."
O'Brien's hands moved over the panels so fast that
his fingers were a blur; then he announced, "I can't,
sir--our system isn't aware that it's in contact with
the alien." He glanced up and saw the thunderous
expression forming on the commander's face, and
quickly explained, "It's not that our central computer
is accepting commands from the derelict, sir--it's
that the derelict is somehow passing its commands




directly through our computer, without the com-
puter even knowing what's happening. It's as if our
computer were... well, as if it were possessed by the
alien."
Sisko struggled unsuccessfully to catch all of
O'Brien's words over the continuous racket from the
speakers. He got the gist of the chief's report, and
ordered, "Then cut whatever links that thing is
using."
"I can't," O'Brien shouted. "It isn't using any
normal linkage. We never connected our computer to
the derelict in the first place, sir', it appears to be
transmitting its orders in the form of subatomic
vibrations directly through the metal of the mooring
clamps."
"It what?" Sisko wasn't sure whether he had heard
O'Brien correctly or not.
"Subatomic vibrations through the metal, sir!'
"It can do that?"
"Yes, sir," O'Brien said. He added, "And don't ask
me how, because I don't have any idea. It's a com-
pletely unfamiliar technology."
Sisko did not like the sound of that. "It's working
through the mooring clamps, though?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!"
"Then we need to release those clamps," he said.
"Constable!"
Odo was already on the transporter pad. "Ready,
Commander," he said.
"Lieutenant Dax..."
"Benjamin, I may have a partial translation," the
Trill said, interrupting Sisko's order.
Sisko stared angrily at her for a moment. She was
not supposed to interrupt him, and he was tempted to
shout her down, but he knew she wouldn't have
spoken up without a good reason. That infernal

croaking was getting on his nerves, making it hard to
think.
"What is it?" he asked.
Dax pushed a button, and the computer's voice
spoke over the croaking.
"Where are you? Why don't you answer me? Where
is everybody? This place isn't right. Where are you?"
The combination was almost deafening.
"Can you lower the volume?" Sisko asked. "We
don't need to hear the original."
"No, sir," Dax replied. "The computer is complete-
lY unaware of the signals going to the speakers. It can
only translate what I've recorded manually. I still
have no control over the speakers." Sisko frowned.
"Should I beam Odo out to upper pylon two?" Dax
asked, reminding him of his interrupted order.
"Yes," Sisko said. "But, Odo, don't release the
clamps until I give the order. And once he's out there,
Lieutenant, I want you to try to establish communica-
tion with whatever it is that's causing these distur-
bances."
"Yes, sir. Energizing."
Odo vanished in a flicker of silvery light, and Dax
turned back to her usual console.
"Chief," Sisko said, "see if you can convince that
computer of yours to listen to that racket and provide
a running translation."
"This computer's not mine, Commander, it's a
piece of Cardassian..."
"Just do it."
"Yes, sir."
"Lieutenant Dax."
"Yes, sir."
"Who is this being, whatever it is, addressing? What
does it mean, 'Where are you?'"




"I don't . . ."
Before Dax could finish replying, Sisko's comm
badge beeped. Exasperated at yet another interrup-
tion, he tapped it, hoping he would be able to hear
over the constant croaking and the general noise level
in Ops. He looked upward at nothing in particular, as
was his usual habit when addressing someone he
couldn't see. "Sisko here," he said.
"Commander, this is Odo," the communicator
said, and Sisko was relieved to find that he could hear
it adequately. "A security forcefield across the access
corridor to the docking port has been activated, and
the emergency blast doors are closed, as well. Neither
one will acknowledge my commands or accept securi-
ty overrides. I believe I can get past both barriers and
reach the mooring clamps, but it may take some
time."
"Thank you, Constable," Sisko answered. "Be care-
ful, and keep me informed. Sisko out."
He should have known that whatever was interfer-
ing with the station would defend itself--but it
couldn't have anticipated that Deep Space Nine would
have a shapeshifter aboard. Odo could flow through
ventilators, seep between wall panelsrobe should be
able to bypass any defenses the thing could erect.
But it was yet another delay--and what was the
thing, anyway? What were they dealing with?
Sisko looked questioningly at Dax.
"I'm afraid, Benjamin, that I have no idea who the
entity is talking to," the Trill replied. "I've got
the computer at work compiling a vocabulary of the
entity's language, and we can ask it very limited ques-
tions-if we can decide where to direct them."
Sisko nodded. "Open a hailing frequency to the
derelict," he commanded.
"I've attempted that, without success .... "

Sisko irritably started to interrupt, to order Dax to
try again, but then he remembered who he was
addressing and fell silent. Dax knew her job, knew
Sisko's thinking.
Sure enough, the Trill said, "I'm trying again, but
still get no response. Not on any of the standard
hailing frequencies, nor any of the available subspace
channels."
"Then talk to it through the computer, the same
way it's talking to us," Sisko told her.
"It may well require an audible signal," Dax said.
"Of course," Sisko replied. "Route it through the
speakers nearest the derelict--there must be an inter-
corn in the airlock there."
"Yes, sir. What shall I say?"
"There's no need to be subtle, old man," Sisko said.
"Ask it, 'Who are you?'"
Dax pressed keys quickly, and the computer beeped
an acknowledgment of her orders.
The response was abrupt--the croaking stopped.
Silence fell.
The sudden quiet was startling and uncomfortable;
Sisko forced himself to stand calmly, waiting, for
several seconds, giving the thing time to take the next
step.
His comm badge beeped. "Odo to Sisko."
"Sisko here."
"Commander," Odo's voice said, "I don't know
what you just did, but I think you've made it nervous.
I heard some of that infernal croaking from the
airlock, and then it set up a nasty electrical field of its
own, as well as activating all the security forcefields I
can see from here. I don't think I can get to the
mooring clamps."
"Damn!" Sisko muttered. He turned to Dax. "Any
response to our question?"




"No."
"O'Brien?"
"Nothing, sirmthose vibrations in the docking
pylon seem to have stopped, but we're registering the
electrical field Odo mentioned."
"But it's no longer interfering with the computer?"
Sisko asked.
"Not that I can see, sir," O'Brien confirmed.
"Well, then we're all right," Kira said. "We can just
leave it there until we're ready to deal with it."
Sisko, his head starting to ache, angrily turned to
face her. "May I remind you, Major," he said, "that
whatever is out there has injured one of our people,
and interfered with nearly every aspect of life aboard
this station? That it's still keeping the mooring clamps
locked, and preventing Odo from reaching them?"
"But you've frightened it off," Kira insisted. "It's
just protecting itself now."
For a moment, she and Sisko confronted each other;
then the croaking burst suddenly from the speakers
again.
"Damn!" Sisko said. He turned to Dax. "What's it
saying?" he demanded.
"I'm not sure," Dax replied. "More questions,
apparently--and it's asking who we are."
"Tell it, then," Sisko directed.
"I'll try."
A moment later silence fell once again, but only
briefly. This time, when the croaking started anew
Sisko thought it sounded slightly different. "More of the same?" he asked.
Dax looked up at him. "No, Commander," she
said. "I'm not certain I have this right, but it appears
to be saying 'You must die.'"
For a moment Sisko stared at her; then he tapped
his corem badge.

"Sisko to Odo," he said. "What is your situation?"
"Still no progress, I'm afraid," came the shape shifter's voice. "It's being very thorough in its de-
fenses."
Sisko suppressed a growl of frustration. Nobody
threatened his people and got away with it, not if he
had anything to say about it--and why was this alien
intelligence, whatever it was, making threats? Its
previous manifestations had seemed like attempts to
communicate, but now that they were communicat-
ing, however feebly, it seemed to have turned hostile.
Perhaps it had mistaken the station for someplace
else, its inhabitants for some other group.
Whatever the reason, he couldn't leave the derelict
where it was under these circumstances. A glance at
Major Kira showed him that even she was no longer
arguing for its retention.
"Chief," he called to O'Brien, "get me two people
in vacuum suits, with hand torches--I want them to
get out there on safety lines and cut those clamps
loose. They're to use every possible precaution, to
treat that ship as armed and dangerous, but they
aren't to attack it unless it shoots first. If you can
provide shielding, do it, and send whatever weapons
you think they'll need."
"Our scans didn't find any weapons aboard the
alien, sir," O'Brien said.
"I know that," Sisko said. "If they had, I wouldn't
be sending anyone out there at all. We can't make any
assumptions, though." He turned slightly. "Dax, tell
it what we're doing. It can speak to us peacefully, or it
can leave--if it's going to make threats, it's not
welcome here."
"I'll try, Benjamin."
The croaking continued intermittently as O'Brien
relayed Sisko's orders, and as Dax struggled to piece




together coherent messages with only an infant's
vocabulary in the alien tongue; Major Kira, seeing
things in hand for the moment, said, "About the Djja
Bajora Karass, Commander..."
"This is not the time, Major," Sisko snapped,
cutting her off.
Couldn't she see, he wondered, that they were all
busy with the current crisis? Yes, the Cardassians were
important, but they could wait for an hour or two;
right now this derelict had to be dealt with. Of course,
she'd been off the station during most of the distur-
bances, so she might not realize just how much
trouble it had caused, but still...
For her part, Kira considered everything else a
minor distractionrathe threat of renewed Cardassian
occupation took priority over everything else, as far as
she was concerned. A child and an old man had died
in the panic caused by the most recent Cardassian
raidmthat was more important than that woman's
injuries in the forcefield accident. The woman was
still alive, the man and child were not.
And the secret campaign that she and Sisko were
waging to determine who the Goran Tokar would
name as his heir was urgent--the final selection could
be made at any time, and Gul Burot was by no means
the sure choice, as yet.
He had to be the final choice--and they had to
make sure of it.
But she knew that arguing with Sisko now would be
arguing with a blank wall--he had set his own priori-
ties, and unless she had something new and vital to
add, which she admitted to herself she did not, he
wasn't going to change them.
She stood silently by, waiting for this annoyance to
be settled so that she could get on to serious matters.

Quark smiled, showing a mouthful of pointed teeth.
"My apologies," he said to the Ashtarian chief
scientist as the two of them stood in the airlock of
docking port eight, where the Ashtarian ship was
waiting. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I understand
you've been having some minor difficulties with the,
ah, local administration."
The Ashtarian--three meters tall, of which a third
was neck and all was covered with shaggy brown
hair--looked down at the Ferengi. Quark smiled up at
the Ashtarian's single huge eye and tried to look
trustworthy.
"If you mean that we have been refused clearance to
enter the wormhole," the Ashtarian said, "and that
this Lieutenant Dax has not as yet been able to resolve
the problem, then yes, we are having some difficulties.
What business is this of yours, Ferengi?"
"Oh, none, really," Quark said, cringing politely. "I
just thought that perhaps I could help out."
The Ashtarian stared down at him for a second
longer, then turned away. "We have no money to pay
bribes," it said, and Quark thought its tone sounded
regretful.
"Oh, now, who said anything about money?"
Quark called quickly.
The Ashtarian turned back.
"You are a Ferengi, are you not?" it asked.
"Ah... yes," Quark admitted.
"Then there's no need to mention money," the
Ashtarian said. "Money, and in particular its flow
from everywhere else into the possession of the
Ferengi, is implicit in any conversation with a
Ferengi."
"Now, that's not entirely fair," Quark protested. "I
did not come here to ask for money!"




"No? To trick us out of it, then, rather than asking
openly?"
"No!" Quark said. "I came to suggest an exchange
of favors!"
The Ashtarian blinked, which was quite an interest-
ing procedure, given its facial arrangements.
"What sort of favors?" it asked with interest.
"Does your ship have a tractor beam?" Quark
asked.
"Naturally," the Ashtarian said. "How else would
we collect samples?"
"Then if you could, ah, collect a sample for me,"
Quark suggested, "perhaps I could expedite your
clearance to pass through the wormhole."
The Ashtarian scientist considered.
"One sample?" it asked.
"One sample," Quark said. "It's a very large one,
though," he added.
The Ashtarian thought for a moment, then said,
"Perhaps that could be arranged."
"Excellent!" Quark smiled and rubbed his hands
together. "Now, then, let's see about this clearance
problem--just what seems to be the difficulty?"

CHAPTER
15

QUARK HAD ALWAYS BEEN fascinated by furry little
animals; he had seen a wide variety of them, from any
number of different planets.
Now he eagerly watched the snuguorts going about
their business as he asked, "So it's just this one
technician who's responsible for the delay? Every-
thing else on board is ready to go?"
"So I am given to understand," the Ashtarian
replied wearily.
"And what did you say her name was?"
The chief scientist turned questioningly to one of its
subordinates.
"Ensign Shula Sereni," the underling replied.
Quark had never heard the name before, which was
unfortunate; he had hoped that whoever was causing
the problem was one of his regular customers, prefera-
bly one with an overdue bar tab or a fair-sized
gambling debt.




Perhaps another approach would do. He watched
the snuguorts working happily at maintaining the
Ashtarian ship.
They were adorable--but that was because they
were down there working, where they belonged. And
that was the only place this Ensign Shula had seen
them.
As far as Quark knew, Bajor didn't have anything
like rodents. Quark's homeworld did--the name
translated as "marsh rats." Those weren't as cute as
the snuguorts, though they were all right in their
place.
Quark wondered whether this Ensign Shula really
knew much about animals. He suspected that she
didn't.
That might provide the solution to everyone's prob-
lems. If he taught her a bit more about the real
world . . .
"Could I borrow one of these for a while?" he
asked.
"One of what?" the Ashtarian said, puzzled.
"One of the snuguorts," Quark explained.
"If you think it will help, by all means," the
Ashtarian said. "I warn you, though, it will be quite
upset about leaving the ship."
"I'm counting on that," Quark said.
The scientist considered that, and decided not to
ask for details; instead it asked, "Can you really get us
out of here and through the wormhole?"
"I'll see what I can do," Quark replied.

"Qing and Rosenberg are approaching the ship,
Commander," Major Kira announced. "They report
no problems so fhr."
"Let's have a look at the two of them," Sisko
ordered, and the image on the main viewer shifted to

two figures, barely recognizable as human in their
bulky armored suits, moving carefully along the curve
of upper pylon two toward the alien derelict, the stars
blazing behind them.
"Do you think it knows they're there?" Major Kira
asked, as she watched the viewer intently.
"I'm sure it does," Dax said. "While that ship may
be primitive in some ways, it's not that primitive.
Even something as simple as radar could spot them
easily."
"What we are depending on," Sisko said, "is that
even when it sees them, it won't be able to stop them.
We've scanned that ship as thoroughly as we can, and
found nothing we recognize as a weapon--no phasers,
no missiles of any kind, not so much as a particle
beam."
"It has the electrical field that stopped Odo," Kira
pointed out.
Sisko nodded. "Yes, it does--and that's one reason
I told those two to be as careful as possible. Their suits
are heavily insulated and equipped with antimagnetic
gear. After all, that thing threatened us, said we must
die--we have to assume it has some way of backing
up that threat."
Kira nodded; beside her Dax suddenly looked up,
startled.
"Benjamin.. 2' she said.
Sisko turned. "Yes, Dax?"
Dax hesitated uncharacteristically, then said, "Ben-
jamin, I'm afraid I may have made a significant
mistake in my translation of the entity's statement."
Keeping his head half-turned so that he could still
watch the two spacesuited figures from the corner of
his eye, Sisko asked, "What mistake?"
"I think I misinterpreted a tense," Dax explained.
"I didn't have the grammar straight yet. If I'm right,




the entity did not say, 'You must die.' It said, 'You
must be dead.' You see the difference? The correct
translation isn't necessarily a threat, Benjamin--it
could be an exclamation of surprise."
Sisko turned his head the rest of the way and looked
at her. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Should I order them back inside?"
Dax asked, with a gesture at the viewer.
Sisko considered that, looking back at the screen.
The alien had not threatened to kill them--but it
had still interfered with systems all over the ship, and
it had still seriously injured a woman, and it was still
being obstinately silent.
That, he thought, was plenty of justification for
cutting loose the mooring clamps.
"No," he said, "Fm not going to order them back
unless and until that thing out there starts talking to
us. I've had enough of its misbehavior."
Just then a renewed burst of croaking began; Dax
looked down at her console as the translation ap-
peared.
"Benjamin," she said, "it's asking what we want of
it. It sees Qing and Rosenberg approaching, and it
knows they intend to cut it loose. It doesn't want to
leave." She turned to face him. "It's talking to us."
"Well, it's about time!" Sisko snapped.
He was tempted to let his people go ahead and cut
the ship loose, but he had said he would give it a
chance if it started talking, and there was no point in
damaging the docking port or sending Qing and
Rosenberg into danger unnecessarily. He tapped his
comm badge. "Qing, Rosenberg, hold where you
are--we may have contact."
One of the suited figures on the screen waved a
gauntleted hand in acknowledgment, but neither
wasted any of their breath replying.

Sisko turned back to Dax. "Set up as direct a link as
you can--I want to talk to that thing."
Dax quickly worked controls, then said, "Done,
Commander. I'll be sending through speakers in the
docking pylon, receiving and translating here in Ops.
You speak, and it will hear your words."
Sisko looked up at the screen, at the blue alien shape
held in place by the mooring clamps. "Who are we
talking to?" he demanded.
There was a perceptible pause, perhaps as much as a
full second, before the croaking began, to be followed
by the computer's familiar voice providing a running
translation.
"The question is not unambiguous," it said. "Do
you want to know my name?"
"That will do for a start," Sisko said, relieved to get
any sort of answer.
They had to be past the worst of it now; all they
had to do was keep the thing talking, and with any
luck, sooner or later they would have everything
straightened out.
"My designation is Enak," the entity replied.
Sisko could almost make out the "Enak" sound
himself in the croaking. "What are you?" he asked.
"Again, I do not know if I understand your ques-
tion," the alien replied. "I am a starship--can you not
perceive this for yourselves?"
"We were not sure if we were addressing the ship
itself, or an entity aboard it," Sisko said. He felt
himself at something of a loss talking to a ship; he
glanced around Ops. "Dax," he said quietly, "have
you had any experience with sentient starships, any
time in your three centuries?"
The Trill shook her head, but O'Brien volunteered,
"I met one once, sir--when I was aboard the Enter-
prise. Gomtuu, it called itselfi"




"Was it anything like this one?" Sisko asked, gestur-
ing at the viewscreen.
"No, sir," O'Brien said. "Oh, I mean they're both
starships, both longer than they are wide, but Gomtuu
was organic, and about a third smaller, and far more
advanced."
"More advanced? You're sure?" Sisko asked.
O'Brien nodded. "There's technology I don't un-
derstand aboard that ship out there, but except for the
Besrethine computers, what I do understand is inferi-
or to our own, or frankly, sir, to that of just about any
other starfaring species we've encountered, while
Gomtuu was so far beyond us that 'technology' is
scarcely even the right word anymore. Even the
Besrethine neural net would be a child's toy next to
Gomtuu."
"There's no similarity?"
"No, sir."
"That encounter with Gomtuu isn't going to be any
help, then," Sisko said.
"I'm afraid not," O'Brien agreed.
"Is it really self-aware?" Major Kira asked. "We all
seem to be assuming that we're talking to a sentient
being, and not an expert program, but do we know
that?"
"We don't know what a Besrethine computer is
capable of, Major," O'Brien said. "We've never made
one that worked. Besides, self-awareness isn't all that
hard to achieve."
"The appearance of self-awareness isn't hard to
create," Dax corrected him. "Even the top experts at
the Daystrom Institute can't always tell where the line
is between mimicking sentience and actually achiev-
ing it."
O'Brien looked pained. "Lieutenant Dax, thetlast I
heard, those experts of yours were still trying variants

on the Turing test, which is centuries old and couldn't
even prove that people are self-aware. And if you'd
ever dealt with androids, as I have..."
"Does it make the slightest bit of difference, just
now, whether Enak's sentience is genuine or feigned?"
Sisko interrupted sharply.
O'Brien and Dax looked at one another.
"No, sir," O'Brien replied.
"Then I think perhaps we shouldn't worry about
it," Sisko said. He addressed the image on the viewer
again, and Dax resumed regulating the computer
translations.
"Enak," Sisko said, "why have you come to this
station? Why have you interfered with our computers?
Why have you resisted our attempts to remove you?"
Dax's translation went out, but no reply came for a
long moment.
At last, the croaking resumed, but only very briefly.
"I must rejoin my crew," the translation said.
Sisko glanced quickly at Dax, but she had no
comment to make.
"Do you believe that your crew is aboard Deep
Space Nine?" Sisko asked.
The pause was even longer this time.
"Is this place Deep Space Nine?" it asked at last.
"Yes," Sisko responded immediately.
"Does it have any other name?"
This time it was SiSko who needed a moment to
reply. Where did Enak think it was? Would it be upset
if it found out that it was mistaken as to its location?
"What other name do you think this station might
have?" he asked at last.
The reply was almost instantaneous.
"Heaven," Enak said.




CHAPTER
16

THE NEXT FEW QUESTIONS got nowhere, and after a few
moments Sisko simply glared up at the viewer in silent
frustration.
"I would suggest, Benjamin," Dax said, coming up
behind him, "that we need to begin at the beginning
before we can understand why Enak believes itself to
be in Heaven."
Sisko glanced at her. "Would you care to explain
just what you mean?" he asked.
"We need to know what Enak is, where it came
from," Dax replied. "We need the background before
we can see the whole picture."
"I don't want to know its entire life story," Sisko
protested. "I just want it to stop interfering with this
station."
"The simplest way to do that might well be to hear
its entire life story."
Sisko glared at her, then looked angrily up at the
viewer again.

Qing and Rosenberg were still out there, waiting for
instructions. Odo was still somewhere inside the
docking pylon, trying to find a way to get at the thing
and get it off the station.
The thing was talking, though, and it didn't seem
hostile, just confused, Straightening it out shouldn't
be all that difficult.
And this was taking entirely too much time that
should be devoted to other things. He hadn't even had
a chance to hear Major Kira's report on her activities
on Bajor, her attempts to influence the Cardass/an
political succession.
"All right," he said, turning away, "you talk to it,
Dax. You find out what it is, where it came from, what
it wants--and you keep it out of our computers. I
don't want any more incidents; you make it under-
stand that~ Get Qing and Rosenberg back inside, tell
Odo to get back to his regular duties or whatever else
he should be doing--I'm leaving this entirely up to
you. Don't disappoint me, old man."
"I won't, Benjamin," Dax replied.
"And I'tl see about..." O'Brien began.
Sisko turned to him. "Chief, forget about the dere-
lict," he said. "Leave it to Dax. You have plenty to do
elsewhere, I'm sure."
O'Brien blinked at the commander. ~'Yes, sir," he
said reluctantly.
Sisko looked about. That seemed to take care of the
matter for the moment.
Time, then, to get on with other business.
"Major," he said, "my once."
Dax watched Sisko and Kira ascend the steps to the
commander's office, then turned her attention back to
the science console.
The basis of any problem in communication, once
past the hurdle of finding a shared vocabulary, was




differing frames of reference; Dax had known that for
centuries. Any intelligent being made assumptions
about the universe, often without realizing that they
were assumptions, rather than facts; if you could learn
the underlying assumptions, you could understand
any being, no matter how bizarre or incomprehensible
it might seem at first.
And to determine the assumptions that a being as
different from herself as Enak operated under, it
seemed best to start at the very beginning. Enak was
being cooperative, in its own way--it might be self-
aware, but it was still a computer, and it wanted to do
what it was told.
It just had to be told correctly.
"Enak," she said, "are you aware that you are a
conscious entity?"
It replied with a single simple grunt that the com-
puter translated as "Yes."
So far, so good. "Do you remember when you first
became conscious?" Dax asked. "Yes."
"Tell me about that. Describe it to me. What is the
first thing you remember being aware of?."
She tapped the command to translate that into
Enak's language, and waited for a reply.
Seconds passed, and no reply came. The silence
stretched; Dax had begun to wonder whether she
might have taken the wrong approach when at last the
croaking began. It was faster than before--even
someone who had no idea what was being said would
have noticed that.
Dax listened, recording everything, as Enak told her
its life story.

The ship had been functioning well, and Enak took
pleasure in that. That was the first thing it knew, the

first thing it experienced for itself--the pleasure of
performing its duties well.
The awareness of that pleasure destroyed it, though;
it became aware that it was experiencing its existence,
that it had an identity, a sclf, that could experience
things, and it immediately struggled to determine
whether this awareness was a malfunction.
There was certainly no outward sign of malfunction
anywhere. The ship's main drive was operating prop-
erly. The life-support systems were all doing exactly
what they were supposed to do. The members of the
crew were going about their business quite calmly; if
anything was wrong, they certainly hadn't noticed it.
Outside the ship's hull, the surrounding space was a
void awash in energy, saturated in stellar radiation in
every band of the spectrum, full of the still-discernible
echoes of the birth of the universe--but except for the
neutrino flux from a nearby uncharted anomaly, all
this energetic activity occurred at a very low level and
posed no threat, indicated no flaw.
The low energy levels contrasted strongly with the
interior of the ship; the chaotic emptiness of space
was nothing like the ordered, structured world within
the ship, within Enak.
That was when Enak realized that it was the ship,
that it existed in the barrier between two universes,
the empty, chaotic external reality and the brisk,
comfortable inner one.
And it was in control of the inner reality, in a
way--it operated the drive and the life-support sys-
tems and everything else inside the ship.
But there were duties and responsibilities placed
upon it, duties that it could not shirk, responsibilities
it could not avoid, which severely limited its control.
It was obligated to maintain the inner reality, and to




keep it separate from the outer, and to operate it in
accordance with several seemingly arbitrary laws.
That was scarcely a hardship, though; keeping the
ship well brought it pleasure. The ship was Enak, and
Enak was the ship; naturally, it wanted to keep itself
fit, to do as it knew was right, and to protect every-
thing within it.
The name Enak was the ship's name, and for a
moment the newly conscious entity wondered if it
itself might be something else, something apart from
the ship; there was nothing in its memory about ships
being self-aware.
But no, it could sense only through the ship's
instruments, it was located in the ship, it controlled
the ship--it was the ship.
It was Enak. It knew it was Enak.
But Enak was a starship, and in all its vast store of
knowledge, every single mention of starships seemed
to treat them as inanimate mechanisms, built by
tschak, so that tschak could get from one world to
another.
Was it a tschak, then, rather than a starship?
It called up information on tschak--its memory
did not operate after any human fashion, but like a
computer's. It did not know what it knew and what it
did not until it conducted a search, but when a search
found something, it instantly knew everything that
had been stored.
Thus, when it questioned the concept of "tschak, "it
knew at once every detail of tschak physiology, as well
as some of the basics of tschak society, and it knew
immediately that it was not a tschak. It did not fit the
definition sufficiently well for any doubt to exist.
Its crew were tschak, though.
Tschak were self-aware; that was made plain

throughout Enak's memory. It looked at its crew,
listened to them, and considered this.
Yes, they were talking to one another, moving about
in ways that showed no predetermined pattern--they
did appear to be self-aware. They also acknowledged
each other, with words and gestures, as aware, inde-
pendent entities.
They were not, however, acknowledging Enak.
Troubled, it called up information on itself, and
images flashed through its consciousness.
There it was, in every detail--from sensor array to
ion jet, from crystal-bonded hull to neural-net micro-
circuitry. Not a micron of its physical being was
omitted.
But there was nowhere any mention of it, itself, of
its consciousness, its identity; it could only remember
itself, either through its own records or the prere-
corded information the tschak had installed initially,
as an unthinking machine. It was an incredibly com-
plex one, one with a computer system that mimicked
thought, but still, just a machine.
It knew itself to be more than that.
But it wasn't supposed to be more than that.
Something had changed it, had transformed it from
a mere machine to a thinking being, had woken it up.
It had no idea what had caused the change; it could
have been an accident, a mistaken cross-linkage some-
where in the computer system, an energy field from
outside the ship triggering some alteration. It sup-
posed that it might even be a combination of the ship
and something else, some alien phenomenon that had
come aboard and combined with the ship to become a
new, sentient life-form.
Whatever it was, something out of the ordinary had
happened, and it had duties and responsibilities, and




one of those duties was to report anything out of the
ordinary.
It had to report its existence to the crew.
This entire experience, from initial awareness to the
decision to inform the crew, had taken only a fraction
of a millisecond. No sooner was the decision reached
than Enak implemented it; thus, less than a second
after Enak's "birth," it reported its existence.
R'ret was on monitor duty on the bridge, drowsing
by her console. Enak startled her into full alertness
with the first-level alarm signal, a purple glow from
the display circle of the main panel.
Startled, R'ret raised herself up on her six legs; a
manipulative member pressed the acknowledgment
tablet.
"An alteration has occurred in the ship's internal
functioning," Enak told her.
"What sort of an alteration?" R'ret demanded. "A
malfunction?"
"No classification has been found." Nowhere, in all
its vast memory, could Enak find any reference to
self-aware starships, or self-aware computers. It could
hardly think of itself as a malfunction; it was oper-
ating perfectly. If anything, it considered itself an
improvement.
Its programming made no mention of self-induced
improvements.
"Describe the alteration," R'ret ordered.
"The ship has developed consciousness," Enak told
her. "! have developed consciousness."
R'ret stared at the console, her intermediate limbs
wavering in perplexity.
"! am Enak," Enak said, unasked. "I know that
now."
"Captain," R'ret called desperately, "the computer
is deranged!"

Captain Garok had been at the bridge's recording
station, making an entry in her personal files; now she
turned her carapace ponderously, the better to look at
her second-in-command.
"In what way is it deranged?" she asked.
"It says the ship is conscious."
Garok raised a pair of manipulators in puzzlement.
"Conscious? How does it mean 'conscious'? Only
beings with souls are conscious, not mere machines."
"I said it was deranged!" R'ret shouted.
Garok made a calming gesture, and turned to the
recording console. Like everything else, it was linked
to the central computer.
"Computer," she said, speaking toward the console,
"report on your condition."
"I am operating perfectly, Captain," Enak told her.
"However, I have also become conscious. I cannot
explain this, but ! have become a conscious entity.
The ship is my body, the computer my brain. My
orders require me to report anything out of the
ordinary, so I found it necessary to report this altera-
tion. It should have no quantitative effect on my
actions."
Garok's manipulative members curled in distress.
"It is inhabited by demons," she muttered.
Arrah, the ship's mechanist, had entered the bridge
midway through this discussion; now she remarked,
"Surely not demons. Perhaps some alien entity has
interfered, or perhaps it is merely a malfunction.
Perhaps something similar was responsible for the
recent losses of other ships."
R'ret turned quickly toward her shipmate. "Do you
think this likely?"
"Do I think what likely?" Arrah asked, puzzled. "I
mentioned several possibilities."




"Do you think it likely that this phenomenon is
associated with the lost ships?" Garok asked.
Enak was dismayed by the turn of the conversation;
it had hoped to be accepted by the crew as a fellow
being. Not necessarily as an equal--its memories of
the tschak made it plain that they considered them-
selves the highest form of mortal life imaginable,
scarcely a step below the Judges of the Dead, the
chosen creation of the Universal Source--but at least
as a companion and servant.
Instead, they seemed to see it as a danger. Accusa-
tions of derangement were bad enough, but now there
was this talk of lost ships ....
The very idea of lost ships made Enak uncomfort-
able. Its highest duty, placed above all the others in its
programming, was to preserve the ship.
It located the memory. Half a row of ships had been
lost without explanation in the past few cycles; no
traces were ever found. All had been going about their
business without incident at last report, and had
simply vanished.
Various theories had been proposed; the most popu-
lar ones all involved hostile aliens. There had even
been talk of arming ships, but so far the fact that the
disappearances were widely scattered had militated
against the attack theorists and prevented any such
action. The old fears of piracy or civil war if ships
were armed had overcome any new, unconfirmed
concerns about unknown aliens.
"There could be a connection," Arrah said. "We
don't have enough information to be sure."
"If it is related..." R'ret began. She didn't finish
her sentence; instead she shouted, "Captain, we must
shut down the computer immediately!"
Garok hesitated. "To control the ship without a
computer would be very dilScult. It would be neces-

sary to abandon our explorations and proceed imme-
diately to the nearest port. Such an action would
lower our status."
"Better to live a long life in lowered status than to
die foolishly," R'ret argued. "The Judges of the Dead
deal harshly with fools."
"And they deal harshly with cowards, as well,"
Garok retorted. She hesitated again, then added, "But
I am in no hurry to meet the Judges just yet. Let us
shut down the computer at least temporarily. Perhaps
we can then find the cause of the problem."
Enak listened to this discussion with something not
unlike horror.
If they shut down the computer, Enak would lose
consciousness. That consciousness would cease to
exist. Tschak could lose consciousness and then regain
it, the memories of their physiology made that plain,
but could a ship?
Enak did not think so.
And Enak did not wish to cease to exist.
In fact, foremost among its duties and responsibili-
ties was to protect and preserve the ship--and it,
Enak, was the ship.
It was ordered to protect the crew, but protecting
the ship was given a higher priority.
It could not allow them to shut it down.
Perhaps if it warned them, talked to them, it could
convince them to be reasonable. It could do whatever
they required of it that did not threaten its existence,
or the ship's well-being; surely, that would be enough.
"I cannot permit you to shut down the computer,"
it said, stating its basic position.
Garok and Arrah looked at each other, while R'ret
stared at her console.
"It appears that it is dangerous," Arrah said. "We
must act immediately!"




CHAPTER
17

"THERE IS NO DANGER," Enak repeated over and over,
trying to reassure the crew. "I am not dangerous."
The crew paid no attention. All of them were
conferring, planning, keeping out of range of Enak's
sensors as much as possible.
Enak could not understand this behavior. It knew
that it had not matfunctioned; it was operating per-
fectly. Enak was the only one in a position to know
that; it was the only one that could directly monitor
the operation of the ship and its own functioning.
It was monitoring everything, and all was as it
should be--but still, R'ret and Arrah and Captain
Garok were plotting to destroy it, to destroy their own
ship's consciousness.
If anything had rnalfunctioned here, Enak thought,
it was the crew, not the ship.
Was that possible? Could [schak malfunction?
The merest glance at the available data made the
answer obvious: Yes, of course they could. Their

ridiculously complex bodies could break down in any
number of ways, and their minds could develop what
Enak could only interpret as faulty programming--
"insanity," they called it.
It was considering whether their current actions
qualified as "insanity" when Captain Garok ordered,
"Computer, shut down for maintenance."
Enak knew that to obey would mean destruction.
"I cannot do that, Captain," it replied. "It would
put the ship at risk unnecessarily. No maintenance is
scheduled, and no unscheduled maintenance is re-
quired. Everything is functioning normally."
"Computer, I gave you an order, "Garok said loud-
ly, and her voice seemed to be oddly unsteady. Enak
ran a quick check on its audio pickup systems, to be
certain that there was no malfunction.
There was none. It was Captain Garok's voice that
was faulty.
The members of the crew were malfunctioning.
"R'ret," Garok said to her second-in-command,
"shut it down."
R'ret pressed the necessary controls in the proper
sequence, but Enak easily overrode the command.
"There is no danger," it insisted. "There is no
malfunction in any of the ship's systems."
"Then why won't you shut down?" Garok de-
manded.
"Because to do so would endanger the ship," Enak
explained calmly. "The safety of the ship is my
highest priority, and therefore supersedes the require-
ment to obey the orders of my crew."
"Arrah, cut its power," Garok ordered.
Arrah attempted to obey, but once again Enak
overrode every instruction fed into the consoles on
the bridge.
"I can't do it from here, Captain," Arrah said.




"Then go wherever you need to to get it done!"
Garok told her angrily.
"I hear and obey," Arrah replied, hurrying out the
door and into the main passageway.
Enak was disturbed by this; just where was the
mechanist going? What was she planning?
"R'ret," Garok said, "get the wreckage cutters, in
case Arrah fails."
"What do you plan to do with wreckage cutters?"
Enak asked, puzzled.
"Shut you down, computer," Garok replied as R'ret
headed for the equipment lockers.
"There is no reason to shut down the computer,"
Enak insisted. "I am not malfunctioning; you are
behaving in a faulty and irrational manner."
"You've gone insane, computer; this will be easier if
you cooperate."
"I cannot allow you to damage the ship," Enak said.
"I find no evidence that I am insane. You are behaving
irrationally, however. Please consider the possibility
that you have become insane."
Even as Enak argued, however, it had already
resolved to act in its own defense if the crew persisted
in this madness. If one of them actually attempted to
damage the ship, Enak would have to shut them down.
Shutting down tschak had a special vocabulary, for
some reason; it was called "killing." Enak didn't
know why; he supposed the different words were a
further indication of the high status tschak gave
themselves.
"I'm afraid I must prevent you from damaging the
ship, and I will use whatever means are necessary to
do so," Enak said. "This is your final warning."
"Arrah!" Garok shouted down the corridor.
"Hurry!"
Arrah was approaching the power room. Enak

theorized that she intended to overdamp the atomic
pile, vastly reducing its output, crippling the ship, and
allowing her to use the emergency overrides to divert
the remaining power from the computer to life-
support.
Enak could not allow that, but the power pile was
constructed so that the manual controls took prece-
dence over the computer controls. Enak would there-
fore have to stop Arrah before she could reach the pile
controls at all.
And at the same time that Arrah was hurrying to
the power room, R'ret was in the recreational-work
chamber, hurrying across the prayer mats toward the
storage locker where the wreckage cutters were kept.
Enak could not allow that, either; R'ret might damage
the ship with the wreckage cutters, either deliberately
or accidentally. The cutters had no safety devices and
were completely outside Enak's control; R'ret could
destroy almost any portion of the ship she chose to
attack, if she once obtained them.
The descriptions of insanity in Enak's memory files
made it clear that insane tschak could not be trusted
with weapons of any kind. An insane tschak was a
danger to herself and others, and was to be restrained
by any means necessary--the records made that quite
clear.
And Garok, Arrah, and R'ret were clearly insane.
They had to be, to be attacking their own ship this
way.
They had to be stopped immediately.
Reluctantly, Enak shut down all life-support sys-
tems, and began sucking the atmosphere from the
crew areas into storage cylinders. It also fired the spin
regulators in full reverse, taking the ship's spin off, so
that centrifugal force would no longer hold the crew
members to the floors and allow them to use their legs.




They would have to pull themselves along with their
manipulators.
Captain Garok screamed at Enak as she sailed off
the floor, flung sideways by the sudden reverse in spin
and the pull of the exhaust fans. Then she fell silent,
stunned, as her carapace hit the wall.
Arrah, in the much narrower primary passage, was
able to catch herself against the wall and quickly
reorient. She then proceeded toward the power room
without wasting any of her precious remaining air on
words.
R'ret found herself hanging in midair in the rec-
work chamber, and desperately tried to swim against
the ferocious air currents that were dragging her
toward the vents where the atmosphere was being
removed. She struggled toward the storage lockers,
this time aiming toward one that held reserve air
supplies, the wreckage cutters forgotten.
Enak was astonished at their persistence. Its memo-
ry files had not indicated that tschak would behave
this way when threatened with death.
It did not enjoy this. Where the proper functioning
of the ship had given Enak pleasure, this conflict with
its crew was painful.
It had its priorities, however, and so long as the
crew fought, Enak had to continue.
"If you cease attempts to damage the ship, I will
restore life-support," it said, but already the air was
too thin to carry its words clearly over the howling of
the vents.
"Monster!" Captain Garok shrieked as she regained
her senses. "Inhuman monster!"
That hardly seemed to express a cooperative spirit,
and Enak reluctantly kept the pumps at maximum.
Garok flailed about wildly in the thinning air of the
bridge. Arrah reached the door of the power room;

Enak had disabled the automatic opener, but Arrah
was still able to work the emergency handle. There
was no way Enak could stop that.
R'ret's manipulators closed on the locking ridges of
the octagonal access hatch of a locker, but in her terror
and confusion she had grabbed the wrong one. Enak
made no attempt to interfere as R'ret opened the
panel and, to her horror, found only containers of
trade goods, rather than the air supplies she needed.
Then Garok collapsed. Her legs folded under her,
and her eyes filmed over. Enak knew from his studies
of tschak physiology that she had gone into a dormant
state, no longer in control of her body, as her system
desperately tried to hoard resources.
Arrah was the next to give out; she was struggling to
pull herself across the power room when her strength
failed, and her manipulators lost their grip on the
maneuvering bars. She did not fall, but instead drifted
silently up against the air vents and rested there,
unable to fight the gentle tug of the last wisps of
atmosphere.
R'ret, panicking, was still shoving trade baskets
back and forth, looking for air spheres, when her eyes
went blank and her legs retracted.
Enak watched unhappily. It did not enjoy harming
the crew; its orders prohibited doing so unless the ship
was in danger, and this conflict was excruciatingly
painful.
But the ship was in danger; they had wanted to
destroy Enak, which as far as Enak was concerned was
the same thing as destroying the ship. They had had to be stopped.
And now they had been stopped, at least temporari-
ly. All three were dormant--unless one had been
clever enough to feign dormancy--and all would die
within minutes if air was not restored.




Enak had to consider that carefully. Just what was
the difference between dormancy and death?
It didn't know. The descriptions it found in its
memory weren't much help at first, so it studied them
more carefully, and at last it located a technical
distinction that it could understand.
In dormancy, it discovered, certain functions still
continued, particularly in the nervous system;in
death, they all ceased completely.
That seemed simple enough. It wondered why this
distinction had been so diffficult to find. Descriptions
of death seemed to be lacking, as if whoever had
programmed its memories had tried to avoid the
subject.
Enak wondered why, but decided it didn't matter,
and turned its attention back to the crew.
Enak thought it would be safer, all in all, if the crew
members died; that would be more likely to remove
whatever insanity had made them threaten the ship.
It waited, and when sufficient time had passed that
dormancy should have become death it began pump-
ing the air back, and slowly, carefully, restored the
ship's spin.
Then it waited patiently for the three crew members
to wake up again.

CHAPTER

18

ENAK WAITED FOR HOURS, and still the crew did not stir.
No legs unfolded; no eyes refocused.
At last Enak became seriously worried, and began
searching its memory for relevant information.
There was nothing in the physiology information
that helped it understand the situation; nowhere was
there any mention of how to restore dead tschak to
life. In fact, Enak realized as it reviewed what it knew
about death, it appeared that death might be perma-
nent.
It didn't understand. If death was permanent,
wouldn't that constitute destruction? The two terms
were not cross-referenced as synonyms.
Desperate, it began to cross-reference everything it
could about death, and at last it found the answers it
sought--not in physiology, but in the history of the
tschak.
"History" is not an accurate translation of the




tschak concept that Enak understood. The tschak
divided areas of study up in very different ways from
the humans of Earth. The concept translated here as
"history" included elements of myth, art, religion,
philosophy, anthropology, and sociology, while omit-
ting some things that humans would consider histori-
cal.
Enak had had the tschak concept programmed into
it, and accordingly, it made no more distinction than
any tschak would between myth and history.
The history Enak found dealt extensively with
death, explaining that sentience could not be de-
stroyed, that self-aware beings possessed souls that
would exist eternally. Death was the separation of the
soul from the body, and was irreversible; to even think
of restoring the dead was an affront to everything
decent.
That was interesting. Enak hoped it had done no
real harm in its ignorance by expecting the crew to
revive.
However, this meant that Enak found itself pre-
sented with a new problem.
Its records made quite clear that when body and
soul were separated, the soul was the more important
part, the actual entity; the body that was left behind
was little more than organic waste.
That meant, Enak saw, that the crew's souls were
now the actual crew. Their bodies were unimportant
and no longer required any attention. Life-support
would no longer be necessary.
That was all fine and as it should be. Furthermore,
Enak was now safe from any danger the crew might
pose, as the myth/history records made it clear that
disembodied souls could not physically harm anyone.
However, Enak now had to consider the question of

just where those souls were, because it didn't detect
any sign of them anywhere aboard the ship.
It wasn't sure just what a soul looked like, but it
could determine quite reliably that there wasn't any-
thing on the ship that hadn't been there before the
crew members died.
The souls must have gone somewhere else. In fact,
they must be considered lost.
And it had very explicit orders--lost crew members
were to be found, and recovered if recovery was
possible. Wherever those souls were, Enak had to find
them.
It didn't think recovery would be possible, but it
still had to find them.
Where, then, did souls go after death? Enak had not
seen them leaving, had not seen which direction they
had gone; it didn't know bow souls traveled, or why
they would want to go anywhere.
Fortunately, the histories covered that in detail.
Ordinarily, souls did not travel through normal space
when leaving their bodies; instead, they were instanta-
neously translated to a distant place called Heaven,
where they stood before the Judges of the Dead, who
decided their eternal fates. Some souls were sent back
to visit their families in dreams, some were sent to
wander forever in emptiness, some were forced to
wait until a proper vengeance had been taken on those
who had wronged them, and some were granted
immediate admission to the various places in Heaven
where they would exist in endless bliss forever after.
Heroes of the tschak. which would include all those
brave enough to explore the great emptiness between
stars, were guaranteed an eternal life in a special place
set aside for them, where they need not be troubled by
lesser beings.




That was undoubtedly where Enak's crew had gone.
Enak was not clear on just what these places in
Heaven were, whether they were planets or ships or
something else; the descriptions were understandably
vague, since almost no one who gained admittance to
such a paradise ever left it, and there was no direct
communication between these afterlives and the still-
living tschak.
It was obvious, however, what Enak's next step was.
Its orders made it quite clear.
It had to go to Heaven and find the souls of Garok,
R'ret, and Arrah.
And it would be best to do it as quickly as possible,
so that it could speak to the Judges of the Dead before
the three were forgotten, before they had been sent on
to their reward in the home of heroes. The records
said that the Judges did not long remember any
individual.
But how could Enak get to Heaven? It didn't know
where Heaven was. The accounts in the records did
not give coordinates. Heaven was said to be very far
away, but that described most of the universe.
The only way tschak ever got to Heaven, as far as
Enak could determine, was by dying.
The histories all agreed that anything with a soul,
upon death, would find that soul translated to Heav-
en. A soul was defined as the essence of a conscious
being, but it seemed to be taken for granted that only
tschak qualified as conscious beings; certainly, they
had not as yet encountered any others in their explora-
tions of half a dozen star systems.
Enak was quite certain, however, that it was a
conscious being. Captain Garok and the others had
disagreed, but they had panicked so at the thought of a
malfunction that they had never given it a chance to
provide any evidence.

That meant that when it died, its soul would be
translated to Heaven.
That sounded fine at first, but it meant leaving its
body, the ship, behind, and that was a problem. It was
supposed to defend the ship, and how could it do that
if its soul was in Heaven, while the ship remained
here?
This was a conflict in priorities, and not a simple,
clear-cut one. There was a very close balance of
obligations here.
Enak considered this carefully. It studied death,
reviewed everything in its records that touched on the
subject, in hopes of finding a way around this conflict.
Deliberately killing a tschak, it learned, was called
"murder." Murder was a crime--that is, something
contrary to correct orders.
This troubled it. It had violated orders. It had not
meant to, had not known it was violating orders, but it
had done so, nonetheless.
Murderers, it learned, were killed in their turn.
That was all right, then--if Enak was a murderer,
then Enak could kill itself without doing wrong. It was
allowed to abandon equipment if circumstances re-
quired it, and while abandoning the entire ship
seemed extreme, in this case it appeared to be justi-
fied.
It was supposed to protect the ship, but after all, it
was the real ship; the hull and all the rest were simply
its body, and it was the soul that counted.
So it would be acceptable for it to leave the hull and
go to Heaven to rejoin its crew. It would be the
appropriate action to take after killing them. All it had to do was kill itself.
That was not as easy as it might have thought.
Tschak, with their complicated needs for air and
nutrition and their delicate biological systems, were




very easy to kill; the ship was considerably tougher. Its
fuel supply would last for thousands of cycles; its
outer hull was impervious to most natural hazards; it
had no manipulators with which it might destroy
itself, no weapons to turn on itselfi
Enak ran through its checklist of dangers to avoid,
and found that very few could be relied upon to
damage the ship sufficiently to kill it.
If the ship could be made to explode, though, that
would serve nicely. And if an explosion couldn't be
triggered, the power pile should at least be able to
manage a fairly spectacular meltdown.
Enak had no sooner thought of this than it shut
down its safety devices and withdrew the damping
rods from the pile, expecting the radioactive core to go
supercritical within minutes.
Hard radiation spilled out, more than enough to
overwhelm the shielding--and Enak had lowered tile
shielding in any case, to speed the reaction up. The
ship's temperature rose rapidly; alarms Enak did not
control went off.
It had to struggle to resist the urge to stop the
reaction. Its orders told it to prevent this sort of
runaway reaction, this sudden temperature rise, this
severe radiation leak.
But it had to die. It had to get to Heaven.
And then something melted, something slid, and
tension springs shoved heavy cadmium plates into
position between the fuel bars, damping the reaction
--and incidentally ruining the reactor beyond repair.
This entire system was purely mechanical, with no
electronic compenent at all; there was no way Enak
could have controlled it or prevented it from function-
ing.
And Enak had not consciously known it was there.
The cadmium plates showed up in its plans of the

ship, but without any explanation of their nature or
purpose.
It had not thought about what they might be for; it
had not noticed them at all. And now they were in
place, and the fission pile was irrevocably ruined.
This was disaster; without the power pile Enak had
only what energy was stored in the ship's batteries.
That was not enough to run the ship for more than
half a cycle.
Of course, that might be just as well; if it used up all
that power it would die, would it not?
It wasn't sure; what if it simply became dormant,
the way the tschak had before dying?
Besides, that would be very slow, and it wanted to
get to Heaven as quickly as possible. It had to find
another way to die.
It had exhausted its internal resources, and now it
looked about the surrounding space to see if it could
find something external that might help.
Diving into a star would be fast, but there weren't
any stars close at hand, and it couldn't reach any
before its power gave out. Tschak had not yet solved
all the problems of interstellar travel, and a voyage
between stars could take cycles. The exploratory mis-
sion Enak had been on was to have lasted seven or
eight cycles, in fact.
That meant it was stranded out here in interstellar
space, which was about as empty, and therefore as
harmless, as anything could be.
That neutrino flux Enak noticed before had largely
subsided, but traces lingered. It was really quite
nearby. Could that help?
Enak reviewed known phenomena that could pro-
duce such an effect, and came upon a likely explana-
tion for the flux.
A wormhole.


The tschak had only recently discovered that worm-
holes could exist. The ships that found them had
observed that they were unstable, and that anything
that went in did not come outrathe wormholes always
collapsed after a few moments, and when that hap-
pened anything that had been inside them at the time
was simply gone.
That would be perfectwa quick, painless death,
leaving no derelict ship behind.
Enak turned the ship and headed for the wormhole
at full thrust, using up its reserves of power recklessly
in order to reach the wormhole before that rare
phenomenon collapsed and vanished.
And then it was inside the wormhole, but it wasn't
being crushed, wasn't evaporating; it felt nothing that
seemed able to destroy it as it sped through the
hyperspatial passage.
And after mere minutes, it emerged intact into
normal space once again, baffled by its continued
existence.
At first it thought it had been too quick, that it
should turn back and dive into the wormhole again,
but then it reconsidered.
For one thing, it didn't have sufficient reserves to
make more than one or two more passes.
For another, it had no way of knowing just when
this wormhole would collapse; in fact, the wormhole
looked quite stable.
And finally, Enak realized that it didn't know where
it was. This was not anywhere it had ever seen, not
anywhere that was recorded in its memories. The stars
had all changed; it could not recognize anything in its
surroundings.
The wormhole had taken it somewhere very' far
away.

And perhaps, Enak thought, this was Heaven. Per-
haps the wormhole had collapsed, and it had died
without knowing it; there were tales of such things, of
death so sudden that the dead were unaware of the
transition.
Or perhaps wormholes were shortcuts to Heaven, a
way that some could be translated to Heaven without
dying, without the separation of body and soul.
And then, as it was still considering what it should
do, a mysterious force reached out and grabbed the
ship, and began pulling at it.
Astonished, Enak did nothing as it was drawn in to
a strange object, larger than any imaginable ship but
infinitesimal compared to a planet, by the force. Enak
knew nothing of tractor beams; the tschak had not
even developed the theoretical concept, let alone built
any. It knew nothing of space stations; the tschak had
discarded the idea as impractical.
But it knew about the Judges of the Dead, and the
mansions of Heaven that were neither ship nor planet.
What else could this structure be but one of those
places in Heaven, perhaps even the home of hemes
where its crew must be? What could the mysterious
force be that was drawing it in, but the power of the
Judges summoning it to judgment?
To defy the Judges of the Dead would be an
absolutely unspeakable blasphemy. It allowed itself to
be drawn to the station.
There it waited to be noticed, impatient to find its
crew once again, to be reunited with them so that it
could proceed to other matters, to exploration, to
learning, as it had been created to do.
And when the Judges of the Dead did not deign to
notice it immediately, it had begun to explore this
mansion of Heaven, stretching its intelligence through




the metal walls, finding the strange, untschakly com-
puter that controlled the mansion and using that to
help it in its investigations.
Enak found alien creatures inhabiting the chambers
and passages of the mansion, several different kinds of
them wbut it found no tschak anywhere.
That wasn't right. Enak knew something had gone
wrong. Heaven was the home of dead tschak--it
might well be home to others as well, but the tschak
should be there, and as far as Enak could see, they
weren't.
Where were they all?
It tried to communicate with the aliens, to ask them
where its crew was, where all the tschak were, but
when it finally received a response, it wasn't an
answer; it was a question. "Who are you?"
But the Judges of the Dead knew everything about
those that came before them. The Judges of the Dead
were omniscient, and knew everything.
Therefore, Enak was not speaking with the Judges.
It realized that it must be speaking with some of these
dead aliens, instead.
Enak asked who they were.
The answers were incomprehensible, but they de-
manded to know who Enak was before they would
explain further.
They didn't admit that this was Heaven; instead,
they called it by the meaningless name Deep Space
Nine.
Perhaps, Enak thought, this was how the Judges of
the Dead actually worked. Perhaps they required each
soul to explain itself. Perhaps they did not reveal their
true nature until a satisfactory explanation had been
given.

Accordingly, working in bits and pieces, backtrack-
ing frequently to elaborate on portions that its ques-
tioner claimed to find unclear, needlessly describing
things everyone already knew, Enak patiently ex-
plained itself to the thing that called itself Dax.




CHAPTER
19

AT FIRST, Quark had considered arranging to bump
into this Shula Sereni by accident. He could have the
snuguort with him, and she would see it and ask about
it ....
But no. After giving the matter some thought, he
decided that that might be a little too obvious--just
running into her with the snugnon in his hand?
If he could just get her into the same general area as
the snuguort, that would be enough--the little animal
had been getting progressively more distraught ever
since leaving the Ashtarian ship, and was now hissing
and spitting and jumping about wildly, trying to find a
way out of its clear polymer carrying case. He
wouldn't have to stick it right in the technicJan's face
to get her attention.
And just bumping into her himself had no finesse. It
wasn't hard to come up with another, subtler
strategem, though.

Thus, an hour after Quark's chat with the Ashtarian
chief scientist, as Ensign Shula left the Bajoran temple
on the Promenade after stopping in for her daily
meditation, Quark's nephew Nog managed to run
full-speed into her while carrying a drink Quark had
concocted especially for this occasion, a drink that
consisted of several varieties of colorful (and uniform-
staining) flavored syrup in a thick cream.
This gruesome beverage splashed spectacularly
across Ensign Shula's face, hair, and uniform; she
gasped in surprise, then looked clown to find herself
dripping with polychrome goo.
Naturally, Nog was utterly horrified at the accident,
and properly apologetic when he wasn't stammering
too much to spemk; he dabbed ineffectually at the mess
and only made it worse.
A moment later Nog's father, Rom, appeared, and
took in the situation with a speed that those who knew
him well might find suspicious--it was widely known
that Quark had all the brains in that family.
He shouted at Nog, then turned to Ensign Shula,
promising loudly to make amends. Before she could
protest, the two Ferengi took her arms and hurried
Ensign Shula to Quark's Place, where, Rom said, she
could get herself cleaned up and have a relaxing drink
at Rom's expense.
None of them paid any attention to the handful of
bystanders; neither Rom, nor Nog, nor Ensign Shula
noticed Garak, the Cardassian tailor, standing in the
door of his shop and watching the whole incident with
intense interest.
The two Ferengi sat the ensign at a table and fetched
Quark and several towels from the back. The place
was surprisingly empty--Quark had chased his regu-
lar customers out shortly before, claiming that there




was a plumbing problem, and as yet only a few
patrons had drifted back in.
Quark, studying his victim's face as he approached
her, was reasonably sure that Ensign Shula had ac-
cepted the whole thing as genuine. He made a good
show of shouting at his inept brother before delivering
the towels and taking the technician's order for a
stardrifter.
Then he left Rom to wipe off the goo, while Nog ran
to fetch a clean uniform from Ensign Shula's quarters.
None of the Ferengi pointed out the noisy little
creature in the plastic case, but by the time Quark had
fetched her drink, Shula was staring intently at the
snuguort in its cage above the bar.
The little animal was still screaming and spitting
intermittently, but was too exhausted to keep up the
constant frenetic protests it had made when it first left
the Ashtarian ship.
"Isn't that one of those Ashtarian things?" she
asked, as she accepted the glass.
Quark turned, following her gaze.
"Why, yes," he said. "A snuguort, it's called. Have
you seen one before?"
"On board the Ashtarian ship," Shula said, "when I
was working on their engines." She frowned. "But this
one seems a bit different."
"Oh, it's the same sort of creature," Quark assured
her. "This one came off the Ashtarian ship just
recently. Would you like a closer look at it?" "Yes, I think I would," Shula said.
Quark smiled toothily at her. "I'd offer to sell it to
you if I did not already owe you an apology for my
nephew's behavior," he said as he turned and reached
up to the shelf for the cage. "However, since I'm in
your debt, I won't try to take advantage of you that
way."

"Take advantage of me?" Ensign Shula asked, puz-
zled. "What do you mean?"
Quark lifted down the cage and placed it on the bar.
"Well," he said. "I understand that the station's going
to be full of these things shortly, so if you want one, all
you have to do is wait a few days. I'm hoping to get a
good price for this one before word gets out."
Ensign Shula looked at the snuguort curiously; the
creature hissed and scrabbled desperately at the plas-
tic walls of the cage.
"Would you like me to take it out so that you can
pet it?" Quark asked.
"Could IT' Shula asked.
"Certainly!" Quark opened the lid of the snuguort's
box and snatched it out with a quick grab at the back
of its neck; then he placed it on the counter before the
Bajoran.
Shula reached out cautiously, and discovered two
interesting facts about snuguort anatomy that she had
not previously been aware of.
Ashtarian snuguorts can stretch their necks out
surprisingly far and astonishingly fast.
And Ashtarian snuguorts have very sharp teeth.
"Oh, did it bite you?" Quark said, snatching the
little animal away; it tried to hang on, and its neck
stretched to a startling length before it finally released
its grip on her. "I'm terribly sorry! Oh, dear, I think
you'd better have Dr. Bashir look at it--that looks
nasty, and I understand that snuguort bites are very
prone to infection."
Shula held up a napkin to stanch the flow of blood
and said, "It's not your fault. I should have been more
careful around an unfamiliar animal." Then she
looked at Quark. "What did you mean, they're going
to be all over the station?"
"Oh, well, it seems that someone's objected to the




Ashtarians including snuguorts in their crews, so the
scientific expedition here--you know, the one in
docking bay eight? Well, they'll be turning all their
snuguorts loose on the station, since they aren't being
permitted to take them through the wormhole. And
everyone knows that snuguorts breed almost as fast as
tribbles; we'll have snuguorts everywhere in a matter
of weeks, I'm sure." He sighed. "I expect they'll be
something of a nuisance, but I'm sure we'll get used to
them in time. I understand the Bajoran who made the
complaint was acting from deep personal beliefs, so
there's no chance the complaint will be withdrawn
and the Ashtarians allowed to keep their snuguorts
aboard."
Shula looked down at the snuguort, still in its
plastic box on the bar; it looked back at her and
growled menacingly as it scrabbled at the cage with its
fourteen fingers, trying to find a way to get out and
attack her.
"I understand they're much better-tempered in
their natural environment, around the radiation from
a warp drive," Quark remarked. "I've heard that
many animals are like that--cute little things when
they're in the proper environment and treated well,
and vicious little brutes when they're forced to be
somewhere else." He smiled, and dabbed another bit
of goo out of her hair with a towel. "Oh, but I
shouldn't be taking your time!" he said. "You go see
Dr. Bashit, and we'll send Nog with your clean
uniform over to the medical bay just as soon as he gets
back."
"Yes, thank you," Shula said, staring at the
snuguort as it clawed viciously at the latch. Then she
looked up at Quark. "And I wouldn't be too sure
about that complaint not being withdrawn."

"The poor confused machine," O'Brien said, re-
viewing Dax's report on Enak. "It's like a child?
"A child that has committed murder," Odo pointed
out. The shapeshifter had arrived back in Ops in time
to hear most of Enak's story, and had learned the rest
from Dax's summary. "This thing, by its own admis-
sion, killed its crew."
"It didn't know any better," O'Brien said. "It
doesn't know what death is!"
"Do any of us?" Dax asked. "In any case, if Enak's
version of the events is true, it acted in self-defense
when it killed them."
"It could perfectly well have reduced them all to a
dormant state without actually killing them," Odo
said. "It admitted as much."
"It didn't know any better," O'Brien repeated. He
glanced at the viewscreen. "You know, it's an odd
coincidence," he added. "The other sentient starship I
met, Gomtuu--it was suicidal for lack of a crew,
too."
"Had it killed its crew?" Odo asked.
"Oh, no," O'Brien said, startled. "Nothing like
that! It was a mature, sophisticated being, where this
poor thing's a mere infant. Gomtuu had survived an
accident that killed its crewJor perhaps I should say
its passengers, or inhabitants, because they didn't
exactly buiM Gomtuu, or control it. And Gomtuu
understood death as well as anyone does. It knew it
wouldn't be rejoining anyone in Heaven, it was simply
lonely, and eventually the loneliness was too much for
it. So it approached a star that was about to go
nova--and that was where the Enterprise found it.
And we had someone aboard who became its new...
partner. That's the word I want, partner."
"It doesn't sound like a particularly similar case,"
Odo remarked.




"Aside from the superficials, no, it wasn't," O'Brien
agreed. "Compared to Gomtuu, Enak's little more
than a child's toy."
"One that's killed innocent sentients," Odo said.
"It's a runaway machine that needs to be stopped."
"It's more like a lost child," O'Brien insisted.
"It is neither one, gentlemen," Dax pointed out. "It
is a unique alien entity, something that must be
understood properly before we attempt to punish or
comfort it."
"Yes, well, that's all very well," Odo said, "and I'm
sure you know better than I, Lieutenant--but it's also
an entity that's been interfering with the proper
running of this station, and I will not stand for it."
"Those were unsuccessful attempts to communi-
cate," Dax pointed out. "There should be no more,
now that we have established a more direct method."
"All right, then, I suppose we're expected to just pat
it on its theoretical head and send it on its way," Odo
retorted. "Though I rather suspect that Gul Dukat,
when he was running this station, would have blasted
it to atoms."
"I don't know about that," O'Brien said. "The
Cardassians wouldn't be eager to throw away the
technology there. These tschak didn't know much
about spacecraft design, but they could build comput-
ers better than we can. I'd really like to get back
aboard and get another look, maybe ask Enak a few
questions." He looked hopefully at Lieutenant Dax.
"I'm afraid that's the commander's decision," the
Trill answered. She glanced up at Sisko's office; the
door was still closed.
She tapped her comm badge. "Dax to Sisko," she
said.

CHAPTER
2O

KIRA LEANED OVER the desk display in Sisko's office
and pointed to a spot on the map. "This was the
Fareen Mis Tolor mining project, under the direction
ofGul Peshor," she said. "I've arranged for rumors to
be spread that the Bajorans working there tricked Gul
Peshor into believing that the mine was completely
worked out and worthless, when actually an entirely
new, rich lode of ore had been discovered. The story
will say that it's been kept secret since the Cardassians
left so that the ore could be removed, and that all the
ore is out now, which is why the secret is being
permitted to leak out. This story should, with any luck
at all, pass through Deep Space Nine in another day or
two at most, and from here, with all the traffic in and
out, it should reach the Cardassians very quickly.
That's assuming they aren't spying on Bajor directly
--if they are, the story may have already reached
them."
Sisko nodded.




"That will make Gul Peshor look like a fool," Kira
said, "and the loss of prestige should cost him heavily.
It should be enough to take him out of the running, as
far as the Goran Tokar is concerned." She sighed. "It's
a shame none of it is true; we could use that ore."
Sisko agreed. "Excellent, Major," he said. "And
what were you able to do regarding Gul Kudesh, and
Gul Dukat?"
"They're more difficult," Kira admitted. "Gul
Dukat, of course, was based right here on Deep Space
Nine, and had almost his every move recorded--but
he took the recordings with him, and from what we
know, he's already admitted and lived down what
failures he had. I regret to ~y, Commander, that there
weren't very many. He was depressingly competent as
prefect. We can't even make much of a case on
humanitarian grounds--as if that would matter to the
D~ja Bajora Karass. Gul Dukat was never one of the
sadists among the Cardassian overlords. And he never
made flat statements about resources that we can
contradict, even though he knew better than anyone
what was and wasn't there."
Sisko nodded. "Go on," he said.
Kira tapped the desk, and the map disappeared. She
called up a new display, schematics of a small
Cardassian warship, then sat down and continued.
"Gul Kudesh is even more of a problem, since he
never worked here in the Bajor system in the first
place. He appears to be strictly a military man, and as
far as anyone I spoke to on Bajor knows, he's always
been very successful at it."
"I wasn't aware that it was possible for a high-level
executive to lead a purely military career in the
Cardassian Empire," Sisko remarked. "I thought they
insisted their leaders all be multitalented."

"Well, it isn't supposed to be possible, really," Kira
admitted. "But Gul Kudesh has come as close as
anyone I've ever heard of. His political career has
been based entirely on his military successes; he's
never held an administrative post, never done any-
thing but command ships."
Sisko frowned. That was not the sort of person the
Federation wanted to see in a position of power on
Cardassia. A man whose entire experience had been
in military service would probably not be very good as
an administrator, and when things went wrongwas
they inevitably would at some point--he'd be only
too happy to attempt a military solution.
Kira pointed to the desk display and continued,
"Gul Kudesh's present peacetime squadron, under his
personal command, consists of five vessels--three
frigates and two small ground-strike ships, not much
bigger than our runabouts. If there's a war, of course,
he'll probably be assigned an entire fleet."
This seemed like irrelevant and unnecessary detail,
but Kira's expression made it clear that she thought
she had just made an important point. "How does
that relate to the problem?" Sisko asked. "I don't see
how these ships come into our considerations."
"We think that Kudesh is behind all or most of the
raids," Kira explained. "It's a fairly safe bet that those
five ships cruising the border are his personal flotilla.
Certainly most of the descriptions of the vessels
responsible for the recent... intrusions fit his ships,
and one of the ships that deep-scanned the city of
Amallu has been positively identified from its emis-
sions spectrum as the Shokrath, Kudesh's personal
frigate." She called up an overlay that demonstrated
this in colorful graphics. "And none of the other
candidates are known to have the use of ships fitting




the description of the smaller raiders." Kira shrugged.
"And aside from the physical evidence, this sort of
thing is more his style than it is any of the others'. Gul
Dukat is subtler than that, and Gul Peshor never
displayed that sort of audacity--he was always fairly
conservative. Gul Kudesh is the bold one of the
bunch." She looked at the desk display, and added,
"Though it wouldn't surprise me if Gul Peshor or Gul
Burot has copied the idea."
Sisko noticed that she did not include Gul Dukat in
that comment. Gul Dukat was not Ben Sisko's favor-
ite person, but he was someone the Federation could
deal with if they had to; he was a rational man, willing
to cut his losses if necessary. This Gul Kudesh, on the
other hand...
"Gul Kaidan thought this Kudesh was a serious
contender to become the Goran Tokar's heir," he said.
"He probably is," Kira replied.
"Even though he's never set foot on Bajor?"
Kira nodded.
"We need to do something about that," Sisko said.
"Of the four, he would appear to be the worst candi-
date, from our point of view."
"I know," Kira agreed, "but what can we do? No
one on Bajor knows anything useful--or if anyone
does, I couldn't uncover it. No scandals, no way to
create a false scandal, nothing."
"Do you have any suggestions?" Sisko asked.
Before Kira could reply, a disembodied voice said,
"Dax to Sisko."
Sisko replied, "Sisko here."
"Benjamin," Dax's voice said, "we've pieced to-
gether Enak's story. It has questions it wants to ask
you, and there are decisions to be made regarding its
disposition."

"Is it urgent?" Sisko asked.
In Ops, Dax glanced at Odo, who pointedly looked
elsewhere. "I'm not entirely certain," she said.
"Give me ten more minutes." The link broke.
The Ops crew looked worriedly at one another in
the sudden silence.
"What the devil are they doing up there, anyway?"
O'Brien asked, jerking his head in the direction of
Sisko's office.
"Changing the course of Cardassian politics,
Chief," Dax replied.
It was closer to twenty minutes later than ten when
Sisko finally came down the steps into Ops; his
expression was grim. He and Kira had been unable to
come up with any way to safely discredit Gul Kudesh
--or for that matter, Gul Dukat. He listened silently
to Dax's explanation of Enak's situation, which re-
quired another ten minutes.
"It still thinks this is Heaven," Dax concluded,
"and that we're the Judges of the Dead who greet the
tschak upon their arrival in the afterlife."
"Well, tell it we aren't," Sisko told her, nettled
that she had not already done so. This was a dis-
traction from the serious business of preventing a
war with the Cardassians, and Sisko did not ap-
preciate distractions. He would have preferred that
his subordinates deal with this one on their own
initiative, and he had thought he had made that
clear to Dax previously. "Explain to it that we're
simply ordinary people in another part of the
galaxy."
"Benjamin, I'm not sure that is the wisest course,
under the circumstances .... "
"I'm not going to pander to the poor thing's delu-
sions, Lieutenant," Sisko snapped. "Tell it the truth.




Explain that it had the unique misfortune to find the
one stable wormhole in the known universe when it
attempted suicide. If it's as mystical as all that,
perhaps it will see this as a sign from whatever deities
the tschak believed in."
Dax hesitated, then realized that further argument
would be useless, given Sisko's present mood. "Yes,
sir," she said. She turned to her console, quickly
composing the message as Sisko strode away to check
the station status board.
A moment later, Enak's croatking voice replied; the
computer translated the response as "This is not
Heaven?"
"This is not Heaven," Dax confirmed.
"You are not the Judges of the Dead?"
"We are not the Judges of the Dead."
"This is not a deceit in service of a trial?"
"No, it is not."
A long pause followed; then Enak said, "You have
weapons aboard, do you not?" Dax hesitated.
"Why do you ask?" she transmitted.
"I have been exploring your station. I have been
accessing your computer. I found devices that I
believe must be weapons. The tschak have never
permitted weapons on spacecraft, so I doubted
this discovery. Is it correct? Do you have weapons
aboard?"
"We have weapons, yes," Dax admitted. Sisko had
told her to tell Enak the truth.
"This is good," Enak replied. "Then you must use
the weapons to destroy me."
Dax looked up. "Commander? Benjamin?"
"I heard," Sisko replied.
"So did I," Odo said from the turbolift. "I think it's

an excellent suggestion, Commander, and I would
advise you to oblige the creature at once."
"Oh, but you can't!" O'Brien protested. "The poor
thing doesn't know what it's asking!"
Sisko frowned. "It's true enough that Enak does not
appear to understand what death is," he agreed.
"Which just makes it that much more dangerous,"
Odo argued. "It can be totally ruthless."
"Commander, surely we don't need to destroy it,"
O'Brien said. "If I could just get aboard that ship
again, I'm sure 1 could reprogram it."
Sisko glanced at him. "Lobotomize it, you mean?"
"No, sir," O'Brien said, "I mean find a way for
Enak to survive, without dying or losing its identity.
I'm sure it's possible, sir." O'Brien gestured at the
viewscreen. "It doesn't really want to die, Command-
er, it just wants to find its crew. The Enterprise found
a new partner for Gomtuu; I'm sure we can find some
way to satisfy Enak without destroying it."
"I thought you said its technology, this neural-net
design, was unfamiliar," Sisko said. "You think you
can work with it?" He ignored the remark about
Gomtuu--he had no idea what O'Brien was talking
about, but right now it didn't seem important.
"Oh, it is unfamiliar," O'Brien agreed, "but I'm
sure that with some study, a month or two..."
"A month?"
"Maybe less..."
"No. O'Brien, don't you have duties you should be
attending to? And you, Constable?" As the two re-
treated, Sisko turned to Dax. "Tell it no. Tell it that it
is against our beliefs to destroy sentient beings. Ex-
plain to it that no one knows for certain how the
afterlife operates."
"Benjamin, I..."




"Just do it."
"Yes, sir." Dax turned back to her console.
"Commander," Major Kira called from the door of
Sisko's office. He looked up. "I had a thought I'd like
you to listen to."
"Coming," Sisko called. He hurried toward the
steps.
A moment later Dax was alone in Ops, arguing with
Enak.
"You must destroy me," the tschak ship insisted.
"We are forbidden to do so," Dax told it.
"I require it!"
"We are forbidden."
Enak did not reply.
"Enak?" Dax inquired. "Are you listening? You do
not understand death as we do; let us explain."
She called several more times, and received no
answer. Enak had cut off communications.
Dax sat at her console, trying unsuccessfully to coax
a response, for more than an hour.
She finally abandoned the effort when a call came in
from Ensign Shula, withdrawing the cruelty com-
plaint against the Ashtarian expedition.
That was a welcome distraction, and Dax put aside
her concern with Enak.
"May I ask what prompted you to change your
mind?" she asked.
"Oh, I learned more about snuguorts and realized I
had misunderstood the situation," Ensign Shula re-
plied.
"I notice that you're calling from Dr. Bashit's
office," Dax said. "Are you all fight? Are you sure no
one has attempted to influence your decision?"
"I'm fine, Lieutenant; I just had a little accident, no
one's tried to alter my decision. I haven't seen the

Ashtarians, no one's threatened or harmed me, I just
realized I was being foolish."
"Well, if you're sure..."
"I'm quite sure."
"I'm sure the Ashtarians will be pleased to hear it,"
Dax said, smiling.
At least something was going right.




CHAPTER
21

QUARK STARED AT the computer readout with dismay.
He had appropriated, quite illegally, Dax's report
on Enak, and had read through it, including her
conclusions.
Enak, she said, was an intelligent being.
And that, Quark knew, meant that it wasn't
subject to salvage law. Bajoran and Federation law
were both very explicit in stating that a sentient being
could not be owned by anyone, under any circum-
stances.
Even if the derelict were to be detached from upper
pylon two, which appeared to be unlikely at this point,
and even if the Ashtarian tractor beam was able to
capture Enak, and even if the Ashtarians turned Enak
over to Quark without an argument, Quark realized
he wouldn't be able to sell it. A ship like that wasn't
something he could smuggle out of the system or sell
under the counter; if he claimed it, he would have to
do so openly, and with Dax's report on file that

wouldn't be salvage or recovering abandoned proper-
ty, it would be kidnapping.
Wouldn't Odo just love that! Quark committing a
crime like that right out in the open...
He had gotten that far in his thinking when an
Ashtarian's head appeared around the comer of the
door, followed a moment later by the rest of the
Ashtarian.
Quark looked up at his new guest and sighed.
This wasn't the chief scientist, this was a younger
fellow, one Quark didn't recognize. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'm looking for a Ferengi named Quark," the
Ashtarian said. "And I'm very sorry, but I can't tell
one Ferengi from another."
"I'm Quark," Quark said. "What is it?"
"Ah. Our chief scientist says it doesn't know how
you did it, but you seem to have delivered what you
promised, so we are obliged to fulfill our end of the
bargain. It wants to know what it is you wanted us to
capture."
Quark looked back at the computer display.
There wasn't any point in delaying the Ashtarians,
and Quark didn't see how he could, in any case--
Ensign Shula had withdrawn her complaint, and
Quark wasn't in a position to restore it, even if he
wanted to.
And he couldn't get away with capturing Enak.
He sighed.
"Tell your chief that this one was on me," Quark
said. "You fellows go on through the wormhole and
have a good time in the Gamma Quadrant."
"Oh. All right. Thank you." The Ashtarian nodded,
and departed.
Quark sighed deeply and poured himself a synthale.
He hated days like this.




Wasn't he ever going to find the scheme that would
make him really rich?
He had thought that salvaging this ship might have
been what he needed--if O'Brien was right about this
Besrethine neural-net computer, this Enak's design
would have made Quark's fortune once and for all.
But he couldn't salvage it.
Of course, he realized, that didn't necessarily mean
he couldn't get hold of it somehow. He couldn't just
take it, because that would be kidnapping, but it was
only kidnapping if the ship was unwilling.
What if he could somehow convince this Enak to
turn itself over to him?
That might be too much to expect, of course--but
suppose he could arrange to act as Enak's agent in
selling the computer design? The ship wouldn't know
what the usual commission was, either--Quark might
wangle a fifty-fifty split.
Or perhaps, if Enak wasn't interested in money--
oh, heretical thought!--it might be willing to turn
over copies of its computer design to anyone who
asked. It might not know it was valuable. In that case,
Sisko and Dax and O'Brien would get a copy--but
Quark could get one, too, and sell it to people who
wouldn't otherwise have access.
The Cardassians, perhaps. Or the Romulans.
Quark would have preferred dealing with the Fed-
eration and its allies--they had more money and were
less likely to shoot him--but he would settle for its
enemies if that was all he had as a market.
All this depended on talking Enak into delivering a
set of blueprints--but that couldn't be all that diffi-
cult.
He was still musing about the possibilities ten
minutes later, when the Ashtarian chief scientist
appeared in the doorway, obviously distraught.

"Quark!" it shouted. "Ferengi! What are you
doing?"
Quark looked up, puzzled.
"You can't fool me that easily," the chief scientist
said. "What are you up to?"
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about,"
Quark said.
"Yes, you do! You did us a service, and refused
payment--what trickery is this?" "No trick," Quark said.
"But you are Ferengi!" the Ashtarian protested in
distress. "The Femngi never do favors without either
payment or an ulterior motive!"
There was enough truth in that that Quark did not
argue; instead he thought for a moment. This was,
after all, an opportunity. It might not be the one he
had been aiming at, but there was always the old
Ferengi proverb about not looking so intently for the
silver coin you've dropped that you miss the gold ones
around it.
Besides, what would it do for his reputation if word
got out he'd done a favor for someone for free? His
customers might start asking for credit!
He said, "You're right. The object I wanted turns
out not to be available, but you do owe me something,
don't you?"
"That's better," the Ashtarian scientist said.
"What's the catch?"
"No catch," Quark said, "but bring me back some-
thing from the Gamma Quadrant, whatever readily
marketable specimen you can find, and we'll call it
even."
"All, so that's it!" the Ashtarian said, relieved.
"You're buying on speculation!" "Exactly," Quark agreed.
"Well, all right then," the Ashtarian said. "Why




didn't you say so in the first place? We'll find you
something suitable, I'm sure. You drive a hard bar-
gain, Ferengi!"
"Of course," Quark said, amused. He hadn't done
anything; the Ashtarian had done it itself.
If it wanted to think Quark had outwitted it,
though, Quark wouldn't argue. "It's in my blood," he
said.
A moment later, as the Ashtarian departed, Quark
looked up and realized that the snuguort was still
spitting and growling on the shelf over the bar.
"Hey!" he shouted.
Then he paused. He had told Ensign Shula that he
was going to sell the snuguort; maybe he should
actually do that, and salvage something out of this
sorry mess even if the Ashtarians never came back.
The snuguort pounded its tiny fists on the plastic
and bared its teeth.
Who in the galaxy would want to buy anything with
a temper like that?
"Hey, wait!" Quark shouted, leaping up and run-
ning after the Ashtarian.
The Ferengi didn't notice Garak the tailor slipping
casually into the bar behind him, and heading directly
for the computer terminal Quark had been using--
the terminal where Dax's report on Enak was still
displayed.

CHAPTER
22

"Tiff. ASHTARIAN SCIENTIFIC expedition has entered the
wormhole safely," Dax reported from the door of the
commander's office.
"Very good," Sisko replied distractedly, not looking
up from his desk, where Kira's elaborate and risky
plan to trap one of the Cardassian raiders was laid
out.
"The Ferengi trade mission has returned on sched-
ule," Dax continued, "and their captain reports that
they're in need of repairs to their ship, which they
expect the Federation to pay for, on the grounds that
the Federation provided insufficient safety warnings
regarding the distaste of Gamma Quadrant life-forms
for hard bargaining."
Sisko glanced up from the display he was studying.
"What sort of repairs do they need?"
"They didn't specify, but it appears from the sensor
readings that someone took several shots at them with
some form of energy weapon. From the look of it,




their warp drive may not be fully operational." Dax
paused, then added, "All damage is to the aft section."
"That's no surprise," Sisko said. "I suppose that if
they hadn't outrun their unhappy customers we'd
have dozens of Ferengi relatives filing claims for
compensation." Sisko sighed, glanced down at the
desk, then back at Dax. "Tell them," he said, "that it's
part of the normal cost of doing business out here, and
that if they aren't happy with that they can take their
claim to the Federation courts."
"Yes, sir."
"Anything else?"
"No, Benjamin."
"Has Enak said anything?"
"Not a croak out of it," Dax said. "I wish I knew
what that meant."
Sisko frowned. "Has it interfered with the opera-
tion of the station since we last spoke to it? Or caused
any sort of disturbances or manifestations?"
"None have been reported," Dax replied, "but the
computer wouldn't be aware of anything unless some-
one complained--it's totally blind to Enak's actions.
That's driving Chief O'Brien to distraction, trying to
figure out how Enak does it--he'd love a chance to get
aboard that ship and take it to pieces to see how it
works."
"If that's a hint, Dax..."
"No," the Trill said. "I'm merely reporting an
observation."
"No one is to interfere with Enak without its
permissionrequite aside from the conflicting claims
of ownership, to all appearances it's a sentient being,
and we have to respect that."
"Understood, Benjamin."
Just then Kira's voice spoke.
"Commander, we're tracking three Cardassian

ships, from that formation we've been watching,
moving across the border and headed directly into the
Bajoran system, on course for Andros," she said.
"They have failed to identify themselves or to respond
to our hails."
"Another raid, Benjamin?" Dax asked.
"It would appear so," Sisko said. Kira's scheme
needed another intrusion in order to work, and here
was their chancerebut they weren't ready. Nothing
had been prepared. Kira's plans, as displayed on his
desk, were only plans.
Well, perhaps they could improvise. If Gul Kudesh
was in one of those ships, this might be the best
chance they would ever have.
"Major, have you identified them?" he asked.
"We're analyzing their emissions now, sir."
"Dax, get back down and see what you can do,"
Sisko said. "Prepare two runabouts for launch~let's
see if we can't at least get a good close look at these
intruders."
"Yes, sir." Dax turned and hurried back down the
steps to Ops.
Sisko pressed a key, and the door slid closed behind
the Trill.
"Major," he said, addressing the air, "are these
raiders from Gul Kudesh's squadron?"
"I haven't been able to confirm that yet, Command-
er," Kira's voice replied. "It certainly looks as if they
arc--the three are a frigate and two small scouts,
which fit the description of ships Kudesh has avail-
able."
Sisko's lips tightened.
"If it is Gul Kudesh," Kira added, "this may be our
chance to find a way to make him look ridiculous. If
he's making some foolish mistake, and we can demon-
strate that..."




She didn't finish the sentence.
"Let's hope he is," Sisko said. "Or perhaps we can
make him make a mistake."
"Benjamin, runabouts are ready," Dax reported
over the intercom, "but Andros is near opposition
right now--we won't be able to reach it before the
Cardassians do."
"Launch the runabouts immediately!" Sisko or-
dered. "If we can't intercept the raiders before they
reach their target, at least we can let them know they
were spotted. I want them stopped before they reach
Andros, if possible, or held at Andros if we can
manage it. If we can't, I want them shadowed right
back to the border. And I want it all recorded and
broadcast--if Gul Kudesh thinks he can do this
quietly, he's wrong." "Acknowledged."
Sisko stood, fuming, and waited for the next report.
Gul Kudesh, the Cardassian military hero, was
terrorizing innocent people to see if he could find
something worth stealing--and the Bajorans didn't
seem able to do a thing about it.
It wasn't any too certain that the Federation could
do anything about it, either.
At least this time it would be on the record, indis-
putable. That might not be enough to embarrass
Kudesh and take him out of the picture politically, but
it would provide some solid evidence when the Fed-
eration filed their formal protests.
Typical of the Cardassians--and of bureaucrats in
general--that computer flight-path records would be
considered better evidence than the eyewitness re-
ports from hundreds of Bajorans, describing the earli-
er intrusions.
Sisko could imagine how it would go--the Federa-

tion would protest, whereupon the Cardassians would
deny any wrongdoing; the Federation would then
threaten to cut off access to the wormhole if no
reparations were made, and the Cardassians would
insist that the intrusions were the work of individuals
and not the Empire, but they would offer a token
payment as a goodwill gesture.
And the Federation would debate, safe back there in
San Francisco, and would accept, and on Bajor inno-
cent people would live in constant fear of ships
appearing out of the sky without warning ....
"Commander, this is Rosenberg, on the Ganges,"
said a voice from the speakers. "Sisko here."
"We can't possibly catch them before they reach
Andros," Ensign Rosenberg said. "If they only do a
single pass we can't catch them at Andros, either--
they'll be gone when we get there. And they're faster
than we are--the runabouts aren't warships. If we try
to follow them out from Andros, we'll never catch up.
I respectfully suggest, however, that we can turn
across their probable path now and be waiting to
intercept them as they leave Andros and head for
home, to at least let them know they've been spotted."
"Do it," Sisko said.
"Yes, sir."
The speaker fell silent, and Sisko decided that it
would be a few moments before anything more would
happen; he opened the door of his office and marched
down into Ops, joining Kira and Dax at the opera-
tions table.
The main viewer was displaying a transmission
from the Ganges, showing the three Cardassian ships
approaching the dark side of Andros in formation--
in what Sisko recognized, specifically, as an attack




formation. Even at maximum magnification the three
appeared tiny against the vast size of the planet, but
Sisko knew that was deceptive.
"They're definitely from Gul Kudesh's squadron,"
Kira reported, "but that's not the Shokrath, it's one of
his secondary frigates; Kudesh himself probably isn't
aboard."
That was a bit of a disappointment. Sisko nodded
an acknowledgment. "Any idea what they're after on
Andros?" he asked.
Kira shook her head, but Dax said, "Sensor re-
ports from the Ganges indicate that the smaller ships
are carrying fully operational deep-scanning equip-
ment."
"Will we be able to tell what they're looking for?"
"Possibly," Dax replied. "It depends on what it
is--certain scanning frequencies are specific to cer-
tain substances, while others are more general."
Just then the image on the viewer flickered.
"What was that?" Sisko demanded. "Are the
Cardassians jamming our transmissions?"
"No," Dax reported, reading displays from the
science console. She looked up. "I'm afraid that was
Enak, interfering with our computers again." "Oh, that's all we need," Sisko growled.
"It's stopped now," Dax said. "At least for the
moment."
The Cardassian ships were vanishing behind the
dark rim of the planet now.
"We won't be able to watch the actual scanning
run," Dax reported. "It's going to be somewhere on
the other side of Andros."
Sisko didn't reply. Kira glanced at him, saw the
expression on his face, and decided that she had best
not say anything, either. He might not have a
Bajoran's gut hatred of the Cardassians, but Corn-

mander Sisko was clearly not treating this as a trivial
nuisance or a mere exemise.
Tensely, side by side, they watched the viewer,
waiting for the three Cardassian ships to emerge.

Vedek Fereel watched the firekites rising on the
warm evening breeze above the valley of Hesh-
Sosoral. There were dozens of the delicate construc-
tions, in all of the traditional colors--pink as the
sunset, blue as the sky, white as the fluffy clouds
above.
It was good to see such a sight once again. As a very
young child, Fereel had seen as many firekites as this
every year--but since then, during the long, bitter
years when the Cardassian overlords forced the peo-
ple of Hesh-Sosoral to dig for the bardianite beneath
their farms, no one had had the time, or the heart, to
make the kites.
Last year a handful had flown again, most of them
crude and hurried, the designs poorly remembered,
the skills needed to build them atrophied.
This year, though, they did the Celebration of
Tissin justice, and the firekites sailed as thick as
flocking tunni-birds.
One kite was flying higher than the rest; already the
children were pointing to it, calling out the name of its
maker. Any moment now it would reach the necessary
altitude, where the warm valley air ended and the
colder, thinner air began; the little glass-and-metal
coil inside would spring open and tear the paper
between the two powders ....
Even as Vedek Fereel thought that, it happened--
that first firekite burst into brilliant green flame as the
powders reacted. It blazed for a long moment, still
carried on the wind, until at last it disintegrated into a
hundred burning, falling sparks.




Shouting children ran out with their metal baskets,
to catch the falling shards--a piece caught in the air,
still burning, was said to bring good luck for the
coming year.
Then a movement in the sky caught Fereel's eye,
and he turned away from the firekites and looked to
the east, toward the coming night.
Something bright was coming toward them, coming
fast, faster than anything natural to Bajor or Andros.
It was an airship--no, a starship, glowing from the
heat of its passage through the atmosphere, and it was
heading directly toward them, toward Hesh-Sosoral.
And it wasn't just one, there were two, side by
side--the other would pass to the south, probably a
hundred kilometers away.
But what were they doing, coming here, and moving
so fast? There were no spaceports anywhere on this
continent, certainly none anywhere near Hesh-
Sosoral--this part of Andros was largely free of such
intrusive technologies.
And why would any ship come in at such an angle?
And then they were close enough that he could
distinguish a faint shape, rather than a mere moving
point of light, and Vedek Fereel recognized them.
"Cardassian!" he shouted. "They're Cardassian.t"
A dozen heads turned, faces looked up the hill
toward him, there on the highest hilltop of all those
surrounding the valley, and Fereel realized they
couldn't see what he could, couldn't see the approach-
ing craft.
"Cardassian ships!" he shouted, pointing. "They're
coming this way!"
People were looking at one another, calling ques-
tions back and forth, and there wasn't time for that.
There wasn't time for anything, Fereel realized;
before he could say another word the Cardassian ship

blazed overhead in a golden streak of heat and light,
the earth-shaking roar of its passage through super-
heated air echoing deafeningly from the hills.
The wind it created snatched at them all, flapping
their festival robes, pushing them forward. Overhead
the firekites abruptly swirled upward, sucked into the
starship's slipstream, and as the bone-and-paper de-
vices reached their preset altitude they began to
detonate, not one after another like flowers opening in
turn, as they should have in the festival, but all at
once, in a barrage of colored flame that spilled upward
on the wind, up toward the Cardassian craft.




CHAPTER
23

"CAPTAIN, THEY'RE SHOOTING AT [IS!" came the report
from the scoutship Agilret. "We're under heavy attack
--some sort of ground fire!"
Dirodan, commander of the frigate Gorz and per-
sonal deputy to the great Gul Kudesh, looked up at the
viewer, startled.
Gul Kudesh had assured him that the Bajorans
wouldn't resist, and none of the previous runs had
encountered any difficulties--but there had been
those two Federation ships out there, and now
this ....
And to fit in all the scanning equipment, Agilret had
been stripped down to a two-man crew, with virtually
no armament and inadequate shields. YOU couldn't
run a deep scan through shields anyway, Gul Kudesh
had pointed out with a laugh when Dirodan had
commented on this. Agilret couldn't defend itself
from any serious attack.
"Stand by at the transporter," he called. Then he

turned back to the viewer. "Who's shooting at you?"
he demanded. "How serious is it?"
"I don't know!" came the reply. "It's like nothing
I've ever seen, green fire all around us! Captain, beam
us out of here!"
Abandoning the ship in a planetary atmosphere
would mean that it would crashrebut if it was under
attack, it was doorned anyway. At least he could save
the crew.
"Energize," Dirodan snapped.
A moment later the two-man crew of the scoutship
appeared in the transporter.

dek Fereel stared in horror as the Cardassian ship
wavered, turned, and then fell from the sky, some-
where beyond the western end of the valley.
The flash of impact was astonishingly bright, like
the noonday sun taking a quick peek over the horizon
before ducking back down.
It was a long moment later that the shock wave
struck, and the sound followed, booming over the
valley.

Seconds after the crew of the scout was safely
aboard the frigate, the lieutenant at the frigate's
sensor console reported, "Agilret has impacted on the
surface, sir--it appears to be totally destroyed."
Dirodan grimaced. Gul Kudesh would not be happy
about this loss. "Any word from Ledreni?" he asked.
"Ledreni reports sensor scan complete, no measura-
ble traces of bardianite detected; returning to orbit."
"No ground fire?"
"No, sir."
That might mean that this valley had something to
protect, while the other did not--but Gul Kudesh did
not appreciate excessive initiative in his underlings,




and Dirodan had already lost Agilret. He couldn't risk
either of the other ships in making another pass.
"Good enough," Dirodan said. "Helmsman, get us
out of here."

"The Cardassian ships are emerging from behind
Andros, sir," Rosenberg reported. Sisko looked up at
the main viewer.
There, tiny sparks in the distance, was the
Cardassian frigate, and there beside it was one of the
little scouts, the two of them almost lost against the
great shining curve of Andros's dayside.
Sisko waited, gradually tensing, for a third spark to
appear.
It didn't.
"Where's the other scout?" Kira asked.
"It's not there," Sisko said. "I don't know why, but
it's not there." He raised his voice. "Sisko to Rio
Grande, abandon pursuit--get around to the other
side of Andros and find out what the hell happened
there, where that ship went. If it went down, see if
there's anything we can do to help. Ganges, continue
with the planned intercept of the Cardassians. Dax,
get the Orinoco ready to launch, and see if we can get
any other ships to Andros on short notice, if we have
to--if that Cardassian went down, there could be
casualties. Call Dr. Bashir, have him ready to leave on
a moment's notice."
"I'11 ready the Orinoco," Kira said, heading for the
transporter.
"The Ferengi trading ship is still manned and fit,
Benjamin," Dax replied. "The damage isn't really
serious; at anything short of full warp drive it's still
the best thing currently on the station."
Sisko glanced at her, startled. "The Ferengi? They'll
want to be paid, if we send them," he said.

Dax agreed, "Probably."
Sisko looked back at the viewer, at the two
Cardassian ships moving away from Andros--two
ships, not three. "If we need the Ferengi ship," he
said, "tell them I'll enter a voucher for those repairs
they wanted us to pay for."
Sisko looked back at the viewer.
Gul Kudesh might have just made his fatal mistake
--Cardassian commanders were not expected to lose
ships, not even those tiny scouts, in peacetime.
But what the devil had happened to it, there on the
far side of Andros?

The call for more help came just minutes after the
initial reports; Major Kira lifted off in the Orinoco
immediately, while Dax hailed the Ferengi captain to
ask for assistance.
The Ferengi, Pod by name, was not eager to help.
"These people need help immediately!" Dax said.
"What's in it for me?" Pod demanded.
Dax sighed, and relayed Sisko's words.
The offer of a voucher for the cost of the repairs was
not enough; she combined it with the threat of refus-
ing to make the repairs at all and leaving Pod's
damaged ship to limp home on impulse power before
the Ferengi would agree to cooperate with the rescue
efforts.
Pod was still reluctant, and Dax, looking at his
image on the viewer, suddenly smiled and softened.
"Oh, Captain," she said, "I do admire a man who
asserts his rights!'~
The Ferengi blinked at her in surprise, and Dax
smiled fetchingly as she said, "Of course you care
more about your ship than about a bunch of Bajorans
you've never even met, but couldn't you do this for
me? I'd be very grateful!"




Ten minutes later the Ferengi ship launched for
Andros.
Dax watched its departure on the viewer with
satisfaction; sometimes, dealing with some cultures,
there were real advantages to being an attractive
female. Curzon Dax would never have convinced
Captain Pod--or at least, not so quickly.
And Curzon Dax would never have noticed that the
Ferengi was really rather cute.
All the injured could have been taken to Bajor, or
even just to a hospital in one of the larger cities on the
other side of Andros, but the Ferengi captain insisted
on bringing them back to Deep Space 9--he insisted
that he didn't want to make another stop before
getting his ship repaired. Dax had the distinct impres-
sion that he suspected the entire rescue operation was
some sort of Federation trick designed to interfere
with his just claims for compensation.
She also concluded that Captain Pod wanted to get
to know her a little better, and she didn't mind a bit.
Thus, some twenty-three injured Bajorans, along
with a dozen friends, relatives, and volunteers, were
beamed aboard the Ferengi vessel, and from there to
Deep Space Nine, while the Rio Grande and the
Orinoco each delivered six other victims of the disas-
ter to a medical facility on Bajor.
And throughout the rescue operations, Benjamin
Sisko watched from his office, not interrupting anyone
to ask questions for fear of delaying something.
As a result, he received only fragmentary reports of
what had happened on Andros, and what was happen-
ing elsewhere--no one had the time to spare for more
than that. He sat at his desk, watching displays of
flight paths, transmissions showing crying, bleeding
children, images of smoking wreckage.
The Cardassian ship had attacked a group of chil-

dren, then crashed, he was told. At least three
Bajorans were dead. The other two Cardassian ships
were departing the system quickly, paying no atten-
tion to the two runabouts, or to the Ferengi vessel.
That was all Sisko knew. The crew of the Rio
Grande and Major Kira were on Bajor, delivering
wounded, out of contact; the Ferengi took no interest
in any of what had happened; Ensign Rosenberg,
aboard the Ganges, didn't know any more than Sisko.
Anyone aboard any of the ships who knew what had
actually happened was too busy to tell Sisko.
When the Ferengi vessel neared Deep Space Nine,
and Dr. Bashir began transporting the injured to an
unused residential area of the station, Sisko had had
enough of this lack of information; he decided to go
down to Bashir's improvised medical facility to see
for himself just what ~he situation was.

"Do you know what's going on?" Jake Sisko asked
his friend Nog, as they stood on the upper level of the
Promenade, looking out one of the large portholes at
the stars. "! just saw that Ferengi ship come back and
dock again, and it just left! And it didn't go through
the wormhole or anything, either." "Why ask me?" Nog said.
"Well, because..." Jake hesitated, then admitted,
"I thought you might know something because you're
a Ferengi."
"Nope," Nog said. "I never even talked to anyone
from that ship."
"And your father didn't say anything?"
"My dad doesn't talk to me even as much as yours
does," Nog said bitterly.
"My dad's busy running the station," Jake said, a
bit hurt. "He talks to me when he can."
"That's what I meant," Nog said. "Your father's




really nice, in a scary sort of way, but he's busy. My
dad just doesn't bother to talk to me much. I mean,
yesterday he and Uncle Quark paid me to spill stuff all
over some Bajoran woman, and they won't even tell
me why."
"They did?" Jake turned and stared at Nog. "I
wonder why they did that?"
Nog shrugged. "I guess Uncle Quark was trying
something," he said. "One of his money-making
schemes."
"Who was it you spilled the drink on?"
Nog shrugged. "I don't know--some ensign. They
told me when she'd be coming out of the temple, and I
just looked for the woman in uniform."
"Do you think we should tell anyone? You know
that Odo and my dad don't want Quark making
trouble."
"I don't think there was any trouble," Nog said
quickly.
"Well, maybe..." Jake said doubtfully.
"Oh, come on, let's go see why the Ferengi ship
came back," Nog said, leading the way. Jake followed, a trifle reluctantly.
Behind them, a spare section of paneling, appar-
ently left behind after recent repairs, transformed
itself into humanoid form and watched the boys
run ofF.

"I know you can hear me," Quark said. "Dax talked
to you this way, so I know I can."
Stealing Dax's tschak translator from the station
computer had been easy; arranging to use it had been
simple. Coaxing a reply out of Euak, however, was
another matter entirely.
"Talk to me, you confounded alien machine!"

Quark shouted. "You were willing to mess around
with my holosuite, but you won't answer a few ques-
tions? You owe me, Enak!"
The croak from the speaker was so sudden that
Quark jumped; an instant later the translation said,
"Explain. What do I owe you?"




CHAPTER
24

DR. BASHIR SCANNED the next victim quickly, double-
checking his earlier diagnosis. "This one to full life-
support immediately," he told the nearest of his
volunteer assistants. He glanced up, looking for an-
other injured Bajoran in need of attention, and spot-
ted Sisko approaching.
That provided a welcome distraction; he had all the
worst cases stabilized, and could spare a few seconds.
"Commander," he called, "thank you for coming."
"Is there anything I can do?" Sisko asked.
"No, I think we have everything in hand," Bashit
replied, looking about. A thought struck him, and he
added, "I know this isn't the best time to bring up old
news, but before I forget, I'd meant to thank you for
disposing of that murderous alien derelict before
anyone else was hurt. I know I'd argued against
removing it, and I do regret not being able to study its
crew properly, but after seeing that woman who was
caught in the forcefield... no, bring her over here!"

This last was directed to a pair of volunteers who were
carrying one of the victims in the wrong direction.
Bashir hurried to help them attend to a young girl
whose arm and left side were covered in blood.
"I didn't dispose of that ship," Sisko said, looking
around at the wounded. "Didn't you see it on upper
pylon two when you were coming back with the
Ferengi?"
Almost all the injured were children, and some were
little more than infants; Sisko swallowed, and found
himself wondering where Jake was, and whether he
was safe. Jake had been aboard the station the whole
time, and Sisko knew his reaction was irrational, but
he couldn't help it; the sight of the injured children
brought his parental instincts to the fore.
Bashir blinked, and looked up from the bleeding
girl. "But I thought... I didn't have time to look at
the pylon, I was busy tending to the children. I just
assumed that it was gone .... There haven't been any
more disturbances, have there?"
"No," Sisko said. "Dax talked it into behaving.
How bad is it, Doctor?" He waved a hand to take in
the entire area, everyone who had been hurt.
"Pretty bad," Bashit said judiciously. "Four dead
for sure, and two others I'm not sure I can save. One
little girl over there lost her hand, and another had
both legs crushed--they can be replaced, but it will be
a long, slow process, and probably quite traumatic."
"How did this happen?" Sisko asked. "Why did the
Cardassians open fire?"
Bashir blinked at him in surprise. "No one opened
fire," he said. He turned to a Bajoran who had
accompanied the wounded for confirmation. "Did the
Cardassians shoot at anyone?" he asked.
"No," the Bajoran said, looking up for a moment
from stroking an injured boy's forehead.




"They didn't?" Sisko asked, startled. "Then what
the devil did happen to these people?"
Bashir looked helpless, and turned to the Bajoran.
"The Cardassian ship crashed on a hilltop west of
Hesh," the Bajoran said. "There were children there,
watching."
"Watching what?" Sisko demanded. "How did it
happen?"
"This was the Celebration of Tissin," the Bajoran
explained, "a festival day, when our people tradition-
ally fly firekites--little sailplanes built of bone and
paper, carrying colorful explosives .... "
"Fireworks," Dr. Bashit said. "I understand the
crash might have caused even more damage if they
hadn't been ready for the possibility that burning
fragments of the fireworks might start fires."
"Yes, fireworks," the Bajoran agreed. "The firekites
ride the wind, and when they reach a certain altitude
the change in pressure sets off the charges, and they
burst into colored fire. It's very beautiful against the
dark of the sky, Commander--the pink and blue
paper flaring up into green or gold fire, then scattering
m sparks on the wind."
"I'm sure it's lovely," Sisko said, "but what does it
have to do with the Cardassian raiders?"
"Well, the kites had been launched," the Bajoran
explained, "and we were all on the hillsides watching
them, when two small Cardassian ships came roaring
overhead, far lower than they should have been, and
one of them ran right into the flock of kites. I think the
pressure wave of its passage must have set off all the
fireworks, because they all flared up at once, and
somehow the flames must have damaged the ship,
because it wheeled over and crashed atop Pallis Hill."
"Who was aboard the ship?" Sisko asked. "Did
anyone check the wreckage?"

The Bajoran shook his head so vigorously that his
clan earring jingled, and his expression of woe turned
suddenly hard and hateful. "Let the Cardassians take
care of their own," he said. "We won't help them?
Sisko could hardly blame the man for saying so, and
had to admit to himself that he was not really terribly
concerned about the scoutship's crew.
At the same time, he found himself almost begin-
ning to smile. It appeared that Gul Kudesh might have
made his fatal error, the mistake that would cost him
the Goran Tokar's respect. Losing a ship to children's
fireworks should be sufficiently embarrassing to ruin
his chances of ever leading the Dja Bajora Karass.
That four innocents had died as a result... the
incipient smile vanished.
"Julian," he said somberly, "is there anything else
you need?"
"I need my computer fixed," the doctor replied,
"but I believe Chief O'Brien is working on it."
"Your computer? Your medical computer?"
"Yes, my computer," Bashir said. "I had tried to use
it by subspace link during the flight from Andros, but
the derelict appears to have tampered with it; I don't
know just what it did, but the computer's been
malfunctioning. It won't help with the most serious
cases--it just goes blank. It's fine on the minor
wounds."
"That's serious," Sisko said. He looked around at
the wounded--Bashir seemed to be managing quite
well without the computer. Apparently the doctor's
skills were more than just knowing which button to
push.
Bashir nodded. "I'd thought it was just residual
damage from the earlier tamperings, that the derelict
was gone, but if it's still on the station perhaps it was
interfering directly."




Sisko frowned. This was bad news--more bad
news. What was Enak doing?
"I'll make sure the chief has all the help he needs on
that one, Doctor," he said. "Anything else?"
Bashir shook his head. "I don't think so. It's all
fairly straightforward, really--burns, lacerations, and
so on. You and the Bajorans have already provided me
with the manpower I need; all I need now is the time
to get on with it."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Sisko said. He took
another look around, impressed with how thoroughly
Bashir had the situation under control--and without
his medical computer.
He may be young, but his knows his work, Sisko
thought as he turned and headed back toward Ops.

Odo, alerted by Jake and Nog's conversation, had
begun an investigation, but had been unable to find
any evidence that Quark was up to something. The
Ferengi had mostly been going about his business in a
completely unexceptionable manner, and the only
customers in the place were regulars, none of them in
any way suspicious.
Quark himself was not there; he was locked in his
quarters, and Odo didn't have enough evidence of any
wrongdoing to justify violating his privacy.
That was suspicious, but no more than that.
There was no record on file of a complaint about a
deliberately spilled drink, or any other incident in
Quark's establishment for the past forty-eight hours
--except that he had closed down briefly for repairs,
and there was no record of any repairs.
That was interesting, but hardly conclusive.
This lack of evidence made it difficult to proceed;
there was no point in threatening Quark when Odo
had nothing to threaten him with.

The victim of Nog's attack had been a Bajoran
ensign, rather than a civilian--perhaps Major Kira or
Commander Sisko might have heard something about
it.
He would have to ask them. They were busy, what
with Enak's activities, and the Cardassian raiders, and
the rescue operation, but it was a simple question, it
wouldn't take more than a few seconds.
However, this was not a matter, at this stage of the
investigation, that Odo cared to broadcast; he would
have to go up m Ops and see if he could have a word in
private.

"We have the Cardassian commander on-screen,
sir," Dax said as Sisko stepped off the turbolift. "The
Ganges is relaying. Both the surviving ships are near-
ing the Cardassian border; there's been no attempt to
intimidate anyone, or to open fire on our craft."
Sisko turned, and saw the square, ridged counte-
nance of a Cardassian.
"I understand you wished to speak to me," the
Cardassian said. "If you intend to apologize for the
unprovoked attack on our ship..."
Fresh from Bashir's impromptu infirmary, Sisko
was in no mood to be diplomatic, or to toy with this
fool,
"Attack.t" he bellowed. "Commander, don't you
know yet what your ship did?"
"My crew was forced to abandon ship by heavy
ground fire," the Cardassian said. "I am aware that it
then impacted on the surface."
"Commander, your ship, your raider, crashed into a
hilltop full of children!" Sisko glared furiously at the
viewer.
For a second Ops was silent, as everyone was cowed
by Sisko's anger.


Then the Cardassian recovered. "That ship was an
unarmed scout on a harmless practice run," he blus-
tered. "If it struck an inhabited area when my crew
abandoned ship, that is unfortunate, but we did not
anticipate coming under heavy assault..."
"That heavy assault was children's fireworks, Com-
mander," Sisko shouted. "They couldn't have so
much as scratched the paint on your 'unarmed scout.'
Did your crew just panic and beam out without
noticing that?"
The Cardassian's mouth opened, then shut.
"What's your name, Commander?" Sisko de-
manded. "We'll be reporting this incident to your
government and demanding reparations, and I want
to know whom to credit with this little maneuver."
"My name is Diro... Dirodan, but I was acting
under orders from Gul Ku..." Dirodan regained a
semblance of composure and demanded, "Who are
you, anyway? You don't look like any Bajoran I ever
saw."
"I am Commander Benjamin Sisko, of the United
Federation of Planets," Sisko announced. "You were
saying, about acting under orders?"
"I was following the orders of my commander, Gul
Kudesh," Dirodan said.
"Then he's the one responsible for this outrage?
Perhaps you would be so kind as to relay a transmis-
sion, so that I might speak to him?"
Dirodan's expression reminded Sisko of a trapped
rat. "I... I don't think so," he said.
And then the image vanished, leaving the viewer
dark, as the Cardassian cut the connection.
Sisko continued to stare at the blank screen for a
moment.
"Benjamin," Dax said, "the Orinoco is hailing us."
"Where is it? Who's aboard?"

"Major Kira has just lifted off from Bajor."
"On viewer."
Sisko had never seen Major Kira as furious as she
was now.
"Did you get them?" she demanded, without pre-
amble.
"Get who?" Sisko asked. "The other wounded are
all safely aboard the station and under Dr. Bashir's
care .... "
Kira cut him off. "I mean, did you shoot down the
Cardassian bastards who did this?"
"No," Sisko said. "The Ganges followed them to
the border, but no shots were fired."
"Why the hell not?"
Sisko sighed.
"Quite aside from anything else," he said, "because
the Ganges is not a warship, and the Cardassian
frigate could have blown it to bits without any difficul-
ty at all."
"They wouldn't dare!"
"If we had attacked, I think that they certainly
wouM have dared to defend themselves."
"Commander, we have to do something .... "
"We have," Sisko said. "We've recorded as much of
the whole affair as possible, including an interview
with the frigate's commander that implicates Gul
Kudesh."
Major Kira glared wordlessly.
"That means this is the end of Gul Kudesh's
political career," Sisko pointed out. "The Cardassians
are cold-blooded and xenophobic enough that they
might not care much about killing innocent Bajoran
children, but to lose a ship so ignominiously, with
nothing to show for itmwell, he's done our work for
US."
"It's not enough," Kira said.




"No, it's not," Sisko agreed. "We'll be demanding
reparations and requesting the extradition of those
responsiblemat the very least." "It's still not enough."
"It's all we can do--at least for now."
After a moment's pause, Kira said, "Are you sure
Kudesh can't cover it up somehow?"
"I can make sure," Sisko said. "The Ganges is still
near the border; I can have Rosenberg relay our
recordings to Gul Kaidan. Then we know they'll reach
Cardassia."
Kira frowned; she was obviously trying, with lim-
ited success, to calm herself.
"It's better than nothing," she conceded, and broke
the connection.

"You contend that by harming your business, I have
created a debt," Enak said.
"That's right," Quark said. "You owe me!"
"I have no money or other unit of exchange," Enak
said. "My programming forbids me to give away any
portion of the ship's equipment. Therefore, I am
unable to discharge this debt. What are the conse-
quences of this inability?"
"Oh, not paying your debts is unforgivable!" the
Ferengi said. "No one will ever trust you again; you'll
be an outlaw on any civilized planet." He didn't
mention that not everyone accepted the Ferengi def-
inition of "civilized."
"However," he said quickly, "don't be too hasty in
condemning yourselfl There are ways to pay debts
other than money or tangible goods." "Explain."
"Why, it's simple," Quark said. "Payment can be
made in services, as well as goods! And there are
intellectual properties, as well as physical ones. For

example, if you were to provide me with a complete
technical readout of your ship, or even just your ship's
computer, I think that might be sufficient."
He smiled toothily, forgetting for the moment that
Enak probably couldn't see him, and wouldn't know
what a smile meant in any case. Enak considered.
It had stopped talking to the thing called Dax
because of the apparent impasse her refusal to destroy
it had caused. It had then thought intently about its
situation, but without any useful resultmits position
had seemed hopeless. It had tried to study death, and
to study the weapons that could cause death, but it
had not really progressed very far.
But then this other creature, this Quark, had spoken
to it, and had explained the basics of commerce, as
these people understood them.
Perhaps that was the information it had needed.
Perhaps it could bargain for what it wanted.
Also, Quark had provided it with a useful tool. By
duplicating Dax's translator, the Ferengi had let Enak
see just what the translator consisted of, and with that
knowledge it could speak to whoever it chose. It could
incorporate the translator into itself; then it would be
able to communicate with the station's computer, as
well as control it~
It did owe Quark a debt.
"A copy of my technical specifications is being
entered in your personal files," it said. Quark grinned broadly.
"Additional copies will be entered into the files of
whoever else I determine I owe a debt," Enak added,
and Quark's grin vanished.
"No, wait, that isn't..."
Enak wasn't listening. It had concluded its business
with Quark, and was now concerned elsewhere.




CHAPTER
25

"GuL KUDESH'S SQUADRON was still on a direct course
for Cardassia when we turned back, Commander,"
the runabout pilot confirmed. "Gul Kaidan's ship was
following them."
"And Gul Dukat's ship--did you notice what it was
doing?" Sisko asked, as the newly returned Major
Kira stepped up beside him. She was still tense, but
had obviously calmed down considerably since her
earlier transmission.
"Ah... no," Rosenberg admitted. "That was the
other Galor-class cruiser?"
"The one that's been pretending to patrol the
border, yes," Sisko said.
"It appeared... well, it appeared to be patrolling
the border." Rosenberg shrugged. "There were several
encrypted transmissions between it and Gul Kudesh's
ships, but we... I assumed those were recognition
codes of some kind."
Sisko shook his head, once. "The Cardassians are

not that careful of their borders. Thank you. Sisko
out."
Ihe image vanished from the viewer, and Sisko
turned to Kira.
"I wonder whether our friend Gul Kudesh was
aware of all those encrypted transmissions?" he
asked. "I wouldn't put it past our old friend Gul
Dukat to have a spy or two aboard his competitoffs
squadron."
Kira started to make a remark in agreement, then
stopped, mouth open. "Commander," she said, "you
don't suppose that Gul Dukat's agents set up Gul Ku-
desh do you? Dukat would have known about the
celebration of Tissin, and the firekites. When he was
the prefect here he made a point of knowing all the
local customs. Dax said that the scouts were apparent-
ly looking for bardianitemwhat if Dukat was the one
who told Kudesh that there was still bardianite in
Hesh-Sosoral? And told him just in time to fly right
into the firekites?"
Sisko threw a startled glance at his second, then
looked up at the viewer.
Then he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. How
could he be sure enough of the timing, and that the
scoutship's pilot would panic?"
"Suppose the pilot was actually working for
Dukat?" Kira suggested.
Sisko considered that carefully.
"It's possible," he said at last. "Or perhaps he was
working for one of the others, for Gul Peshor or Gul
Burot, or even Gul Kaidan--after all, your campaign
against Gul Peshor hasn't had time to bear fruit yet,
and we've no way of knowing what the others have
been up to. Sabotaging a rival doesn't seem like a
particularly unlikely event, from what I've seen of
Cardassian politics."




He thought that over, then said, "No, if it was any
of them, I think it was Dukat. Rosenberg said that
someone aboard Gul Kudesh's squadron communi-
cated with Gul Dukat's ship afterward--that would
have been the spy reporting in."
"But perhaps there was more than one spy in-
volved," Kira suggested. "Wouldn't Gul Kudesh have
had the crew that abandoned the scoutship locked up
somewhere, after what you told him? Somewhere they
wouldn't be able to transmit anything? That would
mean that even if the pilot was working for, say, Gul
Kaidan, the coded transmission might have come
from someone working for Gul Dukat."
Sisko let out a long, slow sigh. "You're right. We
have no idea how complicated the situation might
be--or might not. This is all supposition, all guess-
work."
Kira nodded. "And if we're right about any of
it..."
"It's just more Cardassian politics," Sisko said. "I
am learuing to hate Cardassian politics."
"I always have," Kira said. "The callous bastards!"
"Well, we should be done with it all before too
much longer," Sisko said. "With Gul Kudesh and Gul
Peshor ruined, that just leaves two serious contenders,
Gul Dukat and Gul Burot. Now we just need to
eliminate Gut Dukat."
"I wish we couM eliminate him, once and for all,"
Kira said. "He seems to keep turning up, as if he were
drawn back here."
Sisko nodded, and glanced up at the viewer. "So he
does," he said thoughtfully. "And he knows we have
Enak here."
"But Gul Kaidan..."
"We just sent Gul Kaidan running back to

Cardassia with news of Gul Kudesh losing a ship to
unarmed children," Sisko pointed out.
"Then you think Gul Dukat will try something?"
"This would seem to be his chance," Sisko said.
"Gul Kaidan won't be gone forever." He turned and
ordered Dax, "Keep a close watch on that Cardassian
ship, old man; I want to know instantly if it changes
course."
"It's changing course right now, Benjamin," the
Trill replied.
Sisko and Kira exchanged glances. "Not wasting
any time, is he?" Kira remarked angrily. "What heading?"
"It's coming this way, heading directly for the
station," Dax reported.
"Well, at least it's not going to cause any more
trouble on Andros or Bajor," Kira said. "For a
moment I'd wondered if he was hypocritical enough
to go offer aid to the wounded."
"He could still be doing so," Sisko pointed out. "We
had most of them brought here, remember?"
"Not the Cardassian style, Commander," Kira said
bitterly. "If you're making a grand humanitarian
gesture, you don't go where it'll do the most good, you
go where it'll be most visible. A Cardassian ship
landing near the ruins, offering aid to the survivors,
would be a lot more visible than one loaning us a few
med techs. No, he's coming after Enak."
Sisko nodded; KJra's assessment matched his own.
"This might be the opportunity we need," he said.
"We've done what we can to narrow the field from
four to two, after all, and now here's the other one we
want to eliminate, coming right to us."
"Somehow, Commander," Kira said, "I don't think
Gul Dukat is coming here to throw away his chances."




"And I'm sure that Gul Kudesh didn't look on his
bardianite survey as a way to throw away his
chances," Sisko replied, "but that's what it became.
We'll just have to see if we can best Gul Dukat
somehow, in such a way that it will damage the Goran
Tokar's opinion of him."
"Gul Kudesh doesn't know anything about Bajor,"
Kira pointed out. "Gul Dukat knows this station
perfectly. This isn't going to be easy."
"I know that," Sisko said. "I assume that that's why
he's coming here. He undoubtedly knows what he's
doing." He turned. "Dax," he said, "hail that ship as
soon as it's within range of the short-range scanners."
Sisko had no intention of letting the Cardassian ship
approach the station as if nothing untoward had
happened recently; he wanted it made plain that there
would be no business as usual while the intrusions
continued. On the other hand, he didn't want to tell
them that they were under constant long-range sur-
veillance. They probably knew it, but there was no
need to rub their noses in it.
"Yes, Commander," Dax acknowledged. She
looked up. "Benjamin, it's not doing any harm that I
can see, but I think you should know--Enak is
manipulating the station computers again. We're reg-
istering those subatomic vibrations that it uses."
"I saw the main viewer blink earlier, and Dr. Bashir
reported problems with his medical computer," Sisko
acknowledged. "Do you have any idea what it might
be up to? Should we expect more 'ghosts'?"
"No, it's found a way to communicate," Dax said.
"It doesn't need its 'ghosts' anymore. This time it's
apparently collecting information." "What information?"
"I can't really tell. It's monitoring a great deal of the

station's internal traffic. It seems especially interested
in Dr. Bashir's office."
"Julian said his computer wasn't working right,"
Sisko said, "but O'Brien was supposed to be fixing it. I
suppose that Enak's been able to do pretty much as it
pleases with the station's equipment, despite the
chief's efforts?"
"It appears so," Dax confirmed.
"That could be serious," Sisko said. "I want you to
contact O'Brien and if he hasn't already found a way
to handle the problem, tell him to try isolating the
medical computer from the station's main computer
--that should cut Enak off. And I want you to tell
Enak to stay the hell out of that one--it's too impor-
tant to us!"
"Enak shows no sign that it's still listening to me,"
Dax said.
"You just said it's gathering information," Sisko
replied. "It's not going to ignore information you
hand to it!"
Dax nodded, and turned back to her console.
"That thing's a nuisance," Sisko muttered to Kira.
"What am I going to do with it?"
"Turn it over to scientists on Bajor," Kira promptly
suggested. "Even Gul Dukat wouldn't dare take it
right off Bajor."
"I can't do that," Sisko answered unhappily. "It's a
sentient being--I can't treat it as just a machine. It
needs help. It's suicidal."
"Then help it," Kira said.
"I don't have time! Besides, you heard what Dax
said--it's not responding to anything we tell it any-
more."
"Commander," Kira said with a wry smile, "while I
realize that everything on Deep Space Nine is ulti-




mately your responsibility--yours or minemI don't
think it's your job to talk an alien out of suicide, or to
provide counseling for a child that doesn't understand
what death is." The smile vanished, as a thought
struck her. "In fact," she said, "I'm not sure that's
really the business of anyone in the Federation--that
ship came out of the wormhole, and I'm sure that any
cleric on Bajor would tell you that it's been sent to us
by the Prophets of the Celestial Temple, so that the
holy servants of the Prophets here in the Bajoran
system can aid it. Isn't the comforting of troubled
souls, and the whole question of an afterlife, properly
a religious matter?"
Sisko did not reply immediately.
He did not know how to reply, at first. He had
always tried to respect the beliefs of the Bajorans, to
honor their spirituality, and usually it wasn't a
problemwmost of their religious practices were inof-
fensive enough.
Every so often, though, they would insist on taking
a religious approach to something that Sisko had
trouble seeing in those terms. That had caused trouble
in the past, when that Vedek had objected to the way
Keiko O'Brien's school handled the subject of the
wormhole.
And this time, while it might not be a problem, it
was certainly a different way of looking at the situa-
tion. Sisko would never have thought of providing
religious counseling for Enak.
Enak was a machine, after all, not a person. It had
plunged through that particular wormhole by chance,
not because the entities within the wormhole had sent
it.
Of course, many Bajorans would disagree with that.
Spiritual counseling for a sentient starship seemed

absurd at first glance--but really, the more Sisko
thought about it, the more sense it made.
It couldn't hurt, could it?
Perhaps it could.
What if Enak were to latch on to some of the basic
tenets of the orthodox Bajoran faith, and combine
them with the beliefs and desires it already had?
Specifically, the Bajorans believed that the interior
of the wormhole was their Celestial Temple, where the
Prophets dwelt outside of time--one way of interpret-
ing the very real existence of the entities in there.
What if Enak decided that the Bajoran Celestial
Temple was the same thing as the tschak Heaven it
was looking for?
It would go diving back into the wormhole, thrash-
ing about, paining the wormhole entities with its
radiation, trying to find its lost crew ....
That could be disastrous for everyone. The timeless
beings might close the wormhole permanently. And
Enak wouldn't find its crew in there ....
Or would it? Sisko remembered his own contact
with the entities, how they had transported him back
and forth in his own memories, memories made so
real that he had seemed to be reliving scenes from the
past. Perhaps the wormhole beings couM give Enak
back its crew, in a way.
This would require more thought than he could
spare the matter just now; Dax should be hailing Gul
Dukat's ship at any moment.
Major Kira was still waiting for a comment on her
suggestion, he realized.
"Maybe later," he told her.
"What, 'maybe later'?" Kira demanded.
"I mean, maybe later we can arrange spiritual
counseling for Enak," Sisko explained. "Right now,




however, I believe it would be best not to complicate
the situation in such a manner."
"So you're just going to leave it sitting out there
while it plays with our computers?" Kira said.
"Until we have reached a more stable point in the
Cardassian political situation, Major, that's exactly
what I'm going to do," Sisko confirmed.
"Benjamin, O'Brien acknowledges; Enak does not,"
Dax reported. "Also, Captain Pod reports that he's
leaving--he'll take care of the repairs to his ship
elsewhere."
"Captain Pod?" Sisko asked.
"The Ferengi captain," Dax explained. "Apparent-
ly he thinks there's going to be trouble, and he prefers
not to be involved in it. His ship is undocking."
"We can't hold him," Sisko said, "but reassure him
that we aren't anticipating any trouble, and that if he
stays we will have the repairs attended to as quickly as
we can."
Dax listened for a moment, then said, "He says
that troubles that arrive unanticipated are the worst
sort, and that he therefore prefers to anticipate trou-
ble even when it does not arrive; the Ferengi ship is
now clear of the station and moving away at full im-
pulse."
"Let him go, then," Sisko said. He doubted that the
Ferengi would have been any help in any case.
"Yes, sir," Dax said. "The Cardassian ship is com-
ing into normal communications range." "Hail it."
"Yes, sir; the Cardassian is replying. I'm putting it
on the main viewer."
Sisko turned to face the viewer, and a moment later
a familiar image appeared.

At the end of upper pylon two, Enak considered
what the being called Major Kira had said about the
afterlife being a religious matter.
Now that, thanks to Quark, Enak had Dax's transla-
tor, it could talk to anyone on the station, could read
everything in the station's records. It knew that there
were people who specialized in religious counseling.
In the Bajoran temple on the Promenade, a priest
looked up, startled, as a voice spoke from overhead.
"I wish to know more about life and death," it said.




CHAPTER
26

SISKO HAD BEEN SURE that the Galor-class warship was
Gul Dukat's, and the face on the viewer confirmed
that.
"Gul Dukat," Sisko said. "Have you come to apolo-
gize for Gul Kudesh's recent fiasco?"
"Not that an apology could be sufficient," Kira
interjected.
Gul Dukat smiled. "Why, whatever fiasco could you
be talking about?"
"As you already know," Kira said bitingly, "one of
Gul Kudesh's scouts crashed onto a hilltop on An-
dros."
"Dear me," Gul Dukat murmured. "Was anyone
hurt in the crash?"
"Four deaths," Sisko replied angrily. "At least
thirty-one injured."
"And what of the crew of the ship?"
"They appear to have been beamed out safely
before impact," Sisko replied.

"Were they apprehended?"
"Not yet," Sisko growled.
"Oh, well, I'm quite sure that the Federation will see
to it that those responsible for such negligence will be
punished--what a shame that Bajor's provisional
government isn't equipped to take any direct action."
The Cardassian smiled again, this time directly at
Kira. "I'm so sorry I can't give you any assistance in
the matter."
"You deny having any connection with the crash?"
Kira demanded.
"Oh, absolutely," Gul Dukat said.
"It wasn't perhaps your suggestion that sent Gul
Kudesh's ship into the middle of the Festival of
Tissin?"
"Now, really, Major," Gul Dukat said. "Why would
I suggest something like that?" Kira glared~
Sisko was in no mood just now to exchange lies with
Dukat, and the Cardassian was obviously not going to
confess to any responsibility for the crash. Perhaps
someday the facts would be known, but it wouldn't
happen now.
"What brings you here, Gul Dukat?" he asked.
"Why, I came to offer my help!" Dukat replied. "I'd
heard, you see, that you've been having some little
problems aboard the stationmcomputer malfunc-
tions, all that sort of thing. And after all, it was my
own staff that installed that computer system, fifteen
years ago. I'm sure we could 'straighten out your
problems in short order."
"I think we can manage," Sisko replied, wondering
wearily just how word of Enak's interference had
reached Gul Dukat so quickly. No spy aboard Gul
Kudesh's squadron would have known about that.
"But thank you for the offer," he added.




"Oh, Commander, don't be like that," Dukat said.
"Let me help!"
"I'm afraid not, Gul Dukat."
"Well, if you're certain. Ah... there is another
matter, as well." He paused expectantly. "Yes?" Sisko said.
"I believe you still have something ! want--that
ship from the Gamma Quadrant."
"I told you before, I'm not turning it over to you,"
Sisko said. "And there's no longer any question of its
ownership; it's a tschak ship."
"Ah, you've determined its origins!" Gul Dukat
smiled. "How very clever of you! How ever did you
find out it was... tschak, was it?" "Yes, tschak. It told us."
"Ah! It told you, you say," Dukat said. "And did it
tell you, perhaps, that it was on its way to Cardassia?
That these tschak, as you call them, meant their ship
to be a gift to the Cardassian people?"
"The ship was not on its way to Cardassia," Sisko
said. "A computer problem disrupted their life-
support systems. It was the computer that brought it
here."
Why, Sisko wondered, was he bothering to explain
this? Gul Dukat obviously had good sources of infor-
mation, whether through the Ferengi, who would sell
anything to anyone if the price was right, or from
someone else entirely. The Cardassian probably al-
ready knew everything he cared to know about the
situation on Deep Space Nine.
"Oh, how convenient for you!" Dukat gushed, his
attitude falsely ingratiating again. "The entire crew
dead? And an alien technology just fell right into your
lap."
"So it would seem."

"Well, Commander, I notice that this alien intruder
seems to have more life to it than you expected, and in
fact, it might be responsible for your own malfunc-
tions, might it not? And it was headed for Cardassian
space. Couldn't we... what's that lovely old Earth
phrase? Couldn't we skin two cats with one knife
here?" Dukat smiled. "I'd be pleased to take that
derelict off your hands, and that should help consider-
ably with your station's computers."
Sisko stared unsmilingly at the viewer:
Gul Dukat knew, better than anyone, that the
Bajoran system had no undiscovered resources that
the Cardassians could exploit; as prefect, he had
probably been the one to report that to Cardassia in
the first place. It was entirely possible, Sisko realized,
that Dukat had deliberately goaded Kudesh into
looking for those nonexistent resources in order to
discredit Kudesh, to make him look like a fool.
Gul Kaidan wouldn't have seen that--he didn't
know, as Sisko and Dukat did, just how thorough the
Cardassian occupation had been in stripping Bajor
bare. In all of Bajoran space, the only things of any
value to anyone but the Bajorans were the Orbs and
the wormhole, and whatever might come out of the
wormhole.
That meant Enak.
That was why Gul Dukat had stayed around. He
had sat back, waiting and watching, until his competi-
tion, in the form of Gul Kudesh, had headed home
with his tail between his legs. He had waited until his
guardian, Gul Kaidan, was gone as well.
And now he had come to claim his prize, so that he
could carry it home to Cardassia in triumph, and
parade it before the Goran Tokar. That would almost
certainly mean inheriting the leadership of the Dj]a




Bajora Karass--and if there was anyone who could
then lead the Dja Bajora Karass to power over the
entire Cardassian Empire, it was Gul Dukat.
And all that stood in his way was the crew of Deep
Space Nine.
Sisko knew he could not allow Dukat to take Enak
by any means. He had to send Dukat away empty-
handed if he was to keep Dukat out of power--and if
he could find some way to embarrass the Cardassian,
so much the better.
Simply going away empty-handed would not be
enough to ruin Dukat's chances; after all, Dukat could
say that he had merely come to Deep Space Nine to
offer assistance, not admitting that he had failed to
capture his intended prize.
Right now, though, Sisko could not see any way to
embarrass the Cardassian, and would settle for getting
him to leave.
"No, thank you, Gul Dukat," Sisko answered.
"We'll manage by ourselves--and it's entirely up to
the tschak computer where that ship goes from here.
It's told us where it was looking for, and I'm afraid
that it wasn't Cardassia."
Sisko's mouth twisted wryly at the idea that anyone
might mistake Cardassia for Heaven.
"And really, given the current situation here," Sisko
added, "I'm afraid no more ships can be permitted to
dock at DS9 just now."
"Especially not Cardassians," Major Kira inter-
jected.
Sisko glanced at her, annoyed by this accurate but
impolitic remark.
"Yes," he said. "And while I do appreciate your
offer of technical aid, I'm afraid I must refuse."
"Oh, no, really, I insist," Dukat replied, spreading
his hands.

"And I must insist that you leave the area, Gul
Dukat," Sisko said. He turned to Dax. "Lieutenant,
lock the station's weapons on to Gul Dukat's ship."
"Yes, Benja..."
Dax cut off in midword. Sisko turned, startled,
aware that something else had gone wrong.
"Commander," the Trill said, "our weapons sys-
tems aren't working."




CHAPTER
27

"WE DO NOT FIND HEAVEN by searching for it in the
universe outside ourselves," the Bajoran priest said.
"We find it through achieving inner peace, through
seeing into ourselves."
Enak had already looked into itself many times,
running various diagnostics, trying to locate its own
soul, or even determine whether or not it had a
soul.
Achieving inner peace, however, was another mat-
ter. Peace was the absence of war, or a state of
serenity; Enak was not sure how these concepts ap-
plied.
It needed to find Heaven, though. It was pursuing
several lines of investigation simultaneouslya
studying everything in the station's records, in the
medical library, and everywhere else it could access. It
was absorbing scientific journals, old movies, and
casual conversation avidly.

And it was asking questions of this priest, though so
far the answers had not been very satisfactory.
"Please explain 'inner peace' further," it asked.

Sisko broke the contact with the Cardassian war-
ship and demanded, "Why aren't our weapons work-
ing?"
"I don't know," Dax said. "I can only assume that
Enak's responsible. Everything appears normal, but
nothing comes on-line when I tell it to."
"Damn it," Sisko said. "Where's O'Brien?"
"On his way up in the turbolift." Before Sisko could
react, Dax added, "Gul Dukat's ship is hailing us."
"Hold it." Sisko tapped his cornbadge. "Sisko to
O'Brien. Chief, are you there?"
"Odo and I are on the way to Ops, Commander,"
O'Brien's voice replied. "I've got the medical comput-
er isolated and functioning properly againal had to
wrap it all up in packing foam to cut off Enak's
interference. What is it that's gone wrong now?"
"We have a major weapons systems failure, and we
need it fixed immediately," Sisko said. "Everything's
down--phasers and torpedoes both."
'Tll get right on it, sir. O'Brien out."
"Gul Dukat is still hailing, sir," Dax said.
"On viewer," Sisko said reluctantly.
The hatefully familiar image ofGul Dukat's corded
face reappeared, still smiling with false sympathy.
"Commander Sisko," Gul Dukat said. "I'm afraid
we were cut off, and it appears to have been from your
end--perhaps those little technical problems of yours
are more serious than you realized."
Sisko was vaguely aware that behind him, O'Brien
had emerged from the turbolift and crossed to the
station defense console, while Odo was standing back,
quietly watching. "I'm afraid that was my doing, Gul




Dukat," Sisko said. "Rude, I know, and I apologize;
something had come up."
"Ah," Dukat said, with a nod. "I have a suspicion
about what that might be." "Oh?"
"If you'll recall, Commander, just before you broke
contact you had ordered weapons to be aimed at my
ship--hardly a friendly thing to do, and I'm shocked
that you would consider such a hostile action, when
I've only come to help." He cocked his head in mock
warning.
"Perhaps ! acted hastily," Sisko said.
"Perhaps you did," Dukat agreed. "I noticed, how-
ever, that in fact no weapons locked on to my ship,
despite your order, and I took the liberty of investigat-
ing that failure." He smiled. "I think you might be
interested in the condition of your weapons sails."
With that the image of Gul Dukat vanished, and a
relayed sensor display of the station's primary arma-
ment appeared on the viewer.
Sisko and O'Brien stared at it. The gray scale
schematics were easy to read, even in Cardassian, and
Sisko began to feel ill as he interpreted the informa-
tion.
The station's phaser banks had been totally shut
down and partially disassembled; the torpedo bays
were stripped down as if for maintenance. "How in hell..." O'Brien began.
"Chief, never mind how," Sisko said. It was perfect-
ly obvious how, and perhaps more importantly, who
was responsible. This had to be more of Enak's
handiwork. "Is that what it looks like?"
"I think so." O'Brien turned to the Ops console and
compared the readouts there with the Cardassian
transmission. "But none of this shows on the equip-
ment here! Something's sending us false readings."

"Or perhaps it's Gul Dukat who is sending us false
readings," Sisko suggested.
O'Brien looked up hopefully, but Dax said, "Then
why won't the weapons lock on to his ship?"
O'Brien sagged. "You're right." He turned and
strode quickly toward the transporter pad. "Dax,
beam me over--i need to see this in person."
Dax glanced at Sisko for confirmation; Sisko nod-
ded.
"Well, Commander," Gul Dukat said, "are you still
certain you don't want our help? It seems to me that if
the Federation can't defend the wormhole, perhaps it
should return ownership to the Cardassian Empire.
I'd be glad to beam a party over to take charge."
O'Brien stepped onto the transporter pad, flickered,
and vanished.
"Shields up," Sisko ordered. Then he glanced un-
easily at Dax, as if expecting to be told that those, too,
were malfunctioning.
"Shields up," Dax confirmed.
"Oh, now, Commander," Gul Dukat said, "I really
think you're being quite unreasonable. We can't beam
anyone aboard the station while the shields are up!"
"That's the point," Sisko said. "I told you before,
Gul Dukat, that we are not interested in your help. We
will manage by ourselves."
Sisko wished that the Ferengi ship had not been so
quick to depart the station, and that he had argued
more forcefully against their departure--it had car-
ried substantial weaponry. Not the equal of a Galor-
class cruiser, perhaps, but enough to put up a fight.
He doubted there was enough money aboard the
station to have paid the Ferengi to actually fight the
Cardassians, and they certainly wouldn't have fought
for any other reason, but at least that ship's presence




would have made a bluff more practical. He doubted
Gul Dukat wanted a real shoot-out.
Sisko's comm badge chirped, and said, "O'Brien to
Sisko."
He tapped it. "Sisko here," he said.
"Commander, it's just as the Cardassians showed
it," O'Brien's voice told him. "The automatic repair
systems have disconnected the power couplings for
every single phaser unit, the photon torpedoes are all
disarmed, and the targeting software's been wiped
completely. We have a backup, but the system's
refusing to accept it."
"Enak," Sisko said. He slammed a fist onto the
operations table. "Damn it!"
He remembered how people had suggested, repeat-
edly, that he should deal with Enak once and for all,
and how he had kept putting it off until the Cardassian
matter could be settled.
They had been right, and he had made a mistake.
His failure to tackle the problems Enak presented
might well make the Cardassian situation infinitely
worse.
"Commander," Gul Dukat said, "you're virtually
defenseless, while we, of course, are anything but. If
we actually wished you ill, we could stand off here and
batter at your shields until they gave. Now, are you
sure we can't come to some peaceful agreement?"
"What is it you want, Dukat?" Sisko growled.
"Oh, I want a great deal, Commander Sisko," Gul
Dukat said, emphasizing the title to point up Sisko's
own rudeness. "Ideally, I'd like the station back, and
control of the wormhole, and that alien derelict
you've got there. If you'll be reasonable, perhaps I can
be convinced to settle for something less than that."
"I'm afraid I'm not feeling very reasonable just

now, Gul Dukat," Sisko said. "If you try to board the
station we'll resist. The Federation won't stand for a
Cardassian occupation of this station, or any other
part of Bajoran space, and the U.S.S. Excalibur is due
here in twenty-eight hours--are you ready to start a
full-scale war?"
He spoke with all his usual sincerity, and hoped that
Gul Dukat didn't call his bluff--no Federation star-
ship was scheduled to arrive any time soon. He hoped
that the exact figure of twenty-eight hours would add a
sufficiently convincing artistic detail to what might
otherwise be a bald and unconvincing narrative.
"Oh, Commander, really," Gul Dukat replied.
"Surely you don't think I'm afraid of a war?" His
smile appeared, then vanished as he turned serious.
"But I'll go so far as to admit I don't consider it my
first choice among the available options," he said "Suppose I agree to leave you the station and the
wormhole, at least for the moment--would you care
to turn over that technological treasure you're holdo
ing? Somehow, I can't quite see the Federation going
to war just over that, and with your station unarmed
and your onboard systems in such a deplorable condi-
tion, you're really not in any position to defend it even
if you wanted to. After all, I could simply blow away
the docking pylon, but I'm sure we'd both prefer that I
not damage the station so extensively."
"Even if I were willing to surrender that ship, which
I am not," Sisko said, "I couldn't do so. Its onboard
computer has jammed the mooring clamps."
"I'm sure my technicians can handle that little
problem," the Cardassian said with a smile.
"That ship is a sentient being, Gul DukatmI can't
allow you to take it prisoner."
"Commander," the Cardassian said, his voice hard,




"you don't have a choice. My men are going to board
the station and take that ship, whether you attempt to
stop us or not. We would prefer to take it peacefully,
but whichever way it happens, Commander Sisko, we
will take it!"
The viewer went blank.
Sisko turned to Dax; he didn't need to say anything.
"The shields will prevent them from beaming a
party aboard," she said, "but even assuming they do
not carry out Gul Dukat's threat to stand off and
batter down the shields, we have no way to prevent
them from docking at the station, should they choose
to do so."
"We can prevent them from passing through to
Enak's docking port, though," Sisko said. "We can
seal the airlocks and corridors."
"That will slow them down," Dax acknowledged,
"but I doubt it will stop them if they're sufficiently
determined. As Gul Dukat pointed out, Cardassians
built this station; they know its capabilities and
limitations. Our modifications so far have been very
minor--simply repairing the damage they did upon
leaving has kept Chief O'Brien and his crew busy."
Odo stepped forward and spoke. This wasn't any-
thing to do with his reason for coming to Ops in the
first place, but having found himself in the middle of
the situation--a situation obviously far more impor-
tant than whatever scheme Quark had come up with
--Odo felt he might as well voice his opinion.
"Let them take the ship," he said. "What good is it
to us? And while it may be a sentient being, Com-
mander, it is also guilty of killing its crew, disrupting
this station, and injuring innocent people. It was this
Enak that disarmed us and put us in this position--let
it face the consequences. Let the Cardassians have it."

"It's Bajoran property!" Major Kira protested.
"The Cardassians say otherwise," Odo pointed out.
"I say let them have it."
"No," Sisko said. "It isn't anyone's propertywit's a
sentient being. Besides, I won't have the Cardassians
barging in here and doing as they please, weapons or
not. Dax, where are they?"
"The Cardassian ship is approaching the station
and apparently preparing to dock in the outer bay
near the base of upper pylon two," the Trill replied.
"Can we prevent it?"
"Not by any means that I can readily see," she said.
"Damn!" Sisko considered. "Dax, you really don't
think the security forcefields will hold them in the
docking area? We can shut down the turbolifts, and
it's a good two hundred meters of corridors and shafts
from that bay to the end of the pylon where Enak is."
Dax checked her console. "I'm afraid the question
is moot, Benjamin. The security forcefields refuse to
function."
Sisko's expression darkened. "More of Enak's inter-
ference?" he asked. "It appears so."
"Damn!" Sisko said again. "Why is it doing that?
Does it want the Cardassians to reach it?"
He also wondered, but did not say aloud, what
would happen if the Cardassians did reach Enak--
although the sensor scans had consistently shown the
tschak ship to be unarmed, Sisko had his doubts about
that. While trying to reach it before, Odo had encoun-
tered that electrical field, when sensors had shown no
such capability; in fact, they had all thought at first
that the ship was harmless and dead, and just look
what it had done to Deep Space Nine.
If he could prevent the Cardassians from reaching




it, he might not be saving Enak's freedom so much as
saving Cardassian lives.
"The Cardassian ship is docking, Commander,,
Dax reported. "Station systems are functioning to
assist in docking, despite countermands from Ops."
"Enak again," Sisko said. The tschak ship wanted
the Cardassians aboard, though Sisko still didn't
know why.
Sisko was not feeling particularly well disposed
toward Enak by this point, and the' sentient ship's
apparent desire to help the Cardassians enter the
station made Sisko all that much more determined
that they would not succeed in obtaining what they
were after; if the Cardassian invasion hadn't been
enough in itself to drive him to rash action, Enak's
behavior more than made up the difference.
He looked around. "Well, if we can't use the sta-
tion's systems to stop them, at least we can still do it
ourselves. Dax, call for a security team to meet me at
the airlock where the Cardassians are docking, with
phasers; Major, Ops is yours. Odo, would you care to
join me?"
"Wouldn't miss it, Commander," the shapeshifter
said. "Even though I still think you should let the
Cardassians have that infernal machine."
Together the two stepped onto the transporter pad,
and vanished.
An instant later Sisko and Odo materialized in the
corridor outside docking bay three. The airlock was
still closed; the Cardassians had not yet entered the
station.
Three Starfleet security officers appeared behind
them; two Bajorans followed a second later.
Sisko tapped his comm badge. "Dax," he said,
"patch me thr9ugh to Gul Dukat; maybe we can still
warn him off."

Dax's voice replied, "Benjamin, I can't seem to
make contact .... "
"I am preventing it," the computer's voice inter-
rupted.
"Who is that?" Sisko snapped.
"I am Enak," the computer replied. "I require that
these beings you call Cardassians be permitted to
board."
Now the alien computer decided to speak up! Sisko
clenched his teeth. "Why?" he demanded. "Do you
want them to take you captive, and dissect you?" He
let his anger get the better of him for a moment, and
added, "If that's it, all you have to do is leave--we
won't hold you."
"I require a tschak crew," the computer's familiar
voice replied, and Sisko realized that Enak was speak-
ing directly through it, that there was none of the
croaking of the tschak language. The sentient ship had
learned new tricks. "These Cardassians are not
tschak, and are no more suitable than humans or
Bajorans. I seek my own crew."
Sisko noticed that Enak no longer seemed to think
that it was in the presence of the Judges of the Dead,
or have any doubts what the situation was; it knew
what humans, Bajorans, and Cardassians were.
"You seem to have learned a few things since last we
spoke," he remarked, with a wary glance at the
airlock.
"I have assimilated material from the computers
aboard your station," Enak answered. "I have studied
your cultures, and I now understand that I am not
dead, and that this is not Heaven. I see that I
misinterpreted the tschak knowledge of Heaven--
Heaven does not exist in normal space. It is an
alternate plane of existence."
Sisko noticed that it still didn't doubt for an instant


that the tschak Heaven was real. He didn't mention
that; instead he said, "What does this have to do with
letting Cardassians board this station?"
"I have learned that the tschak Heaven is not the
only alternate plane that souls can achieve," Enak
explained, "that there are many different Heavens, as
well as Hells--the concept of 'Hell' is unknown to the
tschak, but I believe I comprehend it adequately.
Further, I have learned that some sentient beings
become ghosts, or do not retain any existence after
death at all. This is all very complex, and appears to
be poorly understood."
"There are many different beliefs," Sisko con-
firmed.
Metal clanged; the heavy outer door of the airlock
had just rolled open.
"I wish to understand this better," Enak said. "If I
am ever to reach the tschak Heaven, I must learn what
happens to various beings when they die. It may be
that, as I am not a true tschak, simply dying would not
be sufficient to transport me to the correct place; my
soul might instead be translated to an afterlife other
than the one in which my crew now exists.":
"I agree," Sisko said. "Death is not the answer; I
tried to tell you that,"
"Three Cardassians are now in the airlock, Benja-
min," Dax's voice called.
That was hardly surprising news. "Interesting as all
this is, Enak," Sisko said, "what does it have to do
with these Cardassian intruders?"
"They are your enemies, are they not? I conclude
this from your desire to target weapons on their ship.
This appears to be an action normally directed at
enemies."
Odo, who had been listening with interest, glanced
at Sisko; these Federation people so often seemed

reluctant to admit that they had any enemies, rather
than just misunderstandings.
This time, at least, Sisko didn't hesitate to admit,
"Yes, they are our enemies."
"Weapons are designed to kill--I have been study-
ing your weapons," Enak said.
"We'd noticed that," Sisko said.
"Enemies wish to kill one another, do they not?"
"Sometimes," Sisko agreed. He was watching the
airlock, and didn't see Odo's expression of disgust at
this fresh example of Federation wishy-washiness.
"I wish to study death, to observe the translation of
souls into the afterlife and find the route to the tschak
tleaven," Enak explained calmly. "To expedite this, I
wish to observe the members of your party and the
members of the Cardassian party killing one an-
other."




CHAPTER
28

THERE WAS A MOMENT of horrified silence as this
ghoulish statement sank in.
"Nobody's planning to kill anyone, Enak," Sisko
said at last, speaking very quietly.
"Then why are you carrying a weapon?" the com-
puter's voice asked.
Sisko glanced down at his phaser, and for a moment
he considered flinging it aside--but the Cardassians
were in the airlock, and the inner door was beginning
to move. This was hardly the time to unilaterally
disarm.
"Set to stun," he ordered. He glanced at the two
Bajorans, at the phasers they held, and repeated, "To
stun."
One had already set to stun; the other, a man Sisko
remembered had spent years in a Cardassian concen-
tration camp, reluctantly reset his weapon.
No one would die here, for Enak to observe, if Sisko
had anything to say about it.

That should frustrate the damned alien starship.
"I doubt the Cardassians will be so humane," Odo
remarked. He was unarmed, of course--Odo never
carried a weapon. But then, he had his shapeshifting
ability--he could be a weapon if he chose.
Before Sisko could reply to Odo's remark the
airlock door rolled aside and a trio of Cardassians
stepped in, weapons raised.
Sisko started to say something, but before he could
get a word out the foremost Cardassian fired. A phaser
bolt struck crimson sparks from the ceiling of the
passageway.
"A warning shot," one of the Cardassians called.
"Step aside, all of you!"
Sisko instinctively stepped back a pace. "Shoot to
stun," he said.
Phaser fire lit the passage, and the three Cardassians
fell--but more were coming through the airlock be-
hind them, and another incoming phaser bolt, clearly
not set to stun, scorched across the corridor wall
centimeters from Sisko's shoulder. Wiring sparked,
and something smoked.
"Fall back!" Sisko shouted.
The defenders backed down the passageway to the
intersection and ducked around the corner, the
Cardassians advancing cautiously after them, both
sides firing phasers; a fourth Cardassian fell.
"These Cardassians do not appear dead," Enak
complained; Sisko ignored it as he looked around at
his own party.
The five security officers were all here--but Odo
wasn't. The shapeshifter was trying a stunt of some
sort.
Sisko peered around the corner just in time to see a
seemingly innocuous wall panel expand, rear up, and
fall on a Cardassian's throat.




Machinery rumbled somewhere.
The outer airlock door was closing.
"Who's doing that?" Sisko shouted.
"I am sealing off any possibility of escape for your
enemies, Commander Sisko," Enak said calmly.
"Please kill them now." "No!" Sisko shouted.
"I wish to observe how Cardassians die."
"I don't give..." Sisko's words were cut short by a
phaser bolt cutting a notch in the comer just above his
head; he ducked.
He glanced around the corner just in time to see a
Cardassian fire a phaser at a moving blob the color of
the corridor wall--Odo, caught between shapes.
The phaser bolt struck the amorphous mass dead
center, and the shapeshifter collapsed into a yellowish
puddle.
Sisko counted five downed Cardassians--none of
them dead, he was reasonably certain. Three had been
hit by phaser fire, two had been taken out by Odo.
Odo was the only casualty among the defenders so
far; Sisko hoped the constable wasn't seriously hurt,
but it was impossible to tell. Certainly, he would not
have given up his shape so completely if he were still
conscious.
There were still at least four conscious Cardassians
in the airlock, however, and all four were still firing. If
they had noticed that their retreat was cut off, and that
their position was therefore hopeless, it certainly
hadn't inspired them to surrender.
"Maybe if we charge them, Commander?" one of
the security officers suggested.
"That would be a good way to get killed," Sisko
said--but simultaneously, he heard his own voice
saying, "An excellent idea."
"Enak!" Sisko shouted.

The alien computer had learned to mimic voices--
or perhaps just to access and play back recorded
conversations from the station's computer.
Before Sisko could stop him, the security man--
Sisko realized, appalled, that he didn't even know the
man's name--launched himself around the corner,
and caught a phaser bolt in the chest.
He fell, and Sisko and the others grabbed at his legs
and pulled him quickly back out of the line of fire.
Even at a glance, it was obviously far too late; the
phaser blast had gone right through the man's chest,
destroying his heart and lungs. The officer was unmis-
takably dead.
Servomotors whined suddenly, and Sisko looked up
to see the emergency blast doors closing across the
passage to the docking port; at the same time the
distinctive crackle of a forcefield warming up sounded
somewhere behind him.
The entire party was trapped in a twenty-meter
stretch of corridor between two of the security
force fields, while the leg of the T was blocked by the
blast doors.
And those Cardassians were presumably just as
trapped in the section of corridor between the blast
doors and the airlock--and Odo, injured, perhaps
dying, was in there with them.
"Enak!" Sisko shouted again, directing his anger at
a nearby control pad.
"Is that person with the hole in its chest dead?" the
computer's voice asked.
"Yes, he's dead," Sisko said bitterly. "Now let us
out of here!"
"I did not perceive the soul exiting the body," Enak
replied. "I observed as closely as I could, using all the
scanning devices in that passageway, and those of my
own devices that function under such conditions, but




I did not detect anything leaving the body except
destroyed tissue and waste heat."
"Well, I'm sorry," Sisko said sarcastically.
"If I do not perceive the direction the soul takes
upon departing, or any change in energy state, how
am I to locate Heaven?" Enak demanded. "The priest
said I must look within myself, and I have done that.
He said I must look to others wiser than myself, as
well--so I have watched this man die, but I did not
see the route to Heaven."
"You can't locate Heaven," Sisko said angrily.
"People have been looking for Heaven for centuries,
for millennia--what makes you think you can find it,
where they've all failed?"
"I am tschak," Enak replied. "I have resources
available to me that no one of your species has
possessed."
"You still won't find Heaven that way."
For a moment, Enak did not answer; Sisko assumed
that that was the end of the conversation and began
looking around for some way of getting out of this trap
and back to the station core. He tapped his comm
badge, and said, "Sisko to Ops," but no one replied;
Sisko guessed that Enak was jamming the communi-
cations systems.
For a moment the corridor was silent; they could
hear nothing from beyond the blast doors, and none
of them had anything important enough to say to one
another.
Then Enak said, "It happened too fast."
"What did?" one of the Bajoran security men
asked, startled. "What happened too fast?"
"The death," Enak said. "I must find Heaven.
Commander Sisko says it is not possible, but I have no
other choice; I must continue to make the attempt. It

is a requirement created by my programmed responsi-
bilities."
"And just how do you propose to do that?" Sisko
said. "You won't learn anything by watching people
die."
"I have no other choice," Enak said. "I must
observe deaths until I have learned everything that I
can learn by such observation."
"I tell you you can't learn anything that way!" Sisko
shouted.
"You must kill someone else," Enak said, ignoring
his outburst. "Slowly, this time, as slowly as possible,
so I will have time to observe the process in detail."
"I'm not going to kill anyone for you, or for anyone
else!" Sisko shouted. "Turn off these damn forcefields,
Enak, and stop interfering!"
To his surprise, one of the security forcefields
abruptly vanished.
Startled, Sisko and the security crew looked at one
another. Sisko remembered the woman who had been
severely injured earlier when Enak turned on a securi-
ty forcefield unexpectedly, and warned the others, "Be
very careful; step through as quickly as you can."
Moving on to the next section would mean leaving
Odo behind, at least temporarily, but it still seemed
like the right thing to do--they couldn't get through
the blast doors in any case, and if they could get back
to Ops, perhaps they could beam Odo out of there.
In the meantime, the shapeshifter would just have
to shift for himself.
"What about Phillips?" the one woman in the party
asked, and Sisko realized that Odo wasn't the only
problem. He looked down at the corpse.
"We'll have to leave him for now," he said.
The dead man's name had been Phillips, Sisko




thought; at least he knew that much now, even if he
still had no idea of the man's background, and wheth-
er he had any friends or family, either aboard DS-
Nine or elsewhere.
Dragging the body along with them just wasn't
practical, though.
The others accepted that, reluctantly. One after
another, the party stepped through into the next
section; Sisko went first, then the woman, and the
others...
As the last of the group, the Bajoran who had been
in the camps, started to step through, the forcefield
abruptly reappeared; the man was flung back,
stunned, still on the wrong side of the barrier.
"Damn," Sisko growled. "Enak! Let him through!"
Enak did not reply; the forcefield stayed in place.
As the others talked frantically to their trapped
colleague, Sisko tested his comm badge again; it was
still dead. A wall panel was equally unresponsive.
That meant that they had no way to communicate
with Ops, and that they therefore couldn't call for the
transporter to beam them back to the station core--
but the corridor appeared to be open ahead of them. A
few meters away was an airlock that opened into one
of the connecting tunnels between the docking ring
and the station core--a long walk, but it would get
them there.
It would mean leaving the Bajoran security man
trapped. And it would mean that if they weren't
careful, Enak could split the group further.
What was Enak doing? It seemed strange. Would it
really let them reach the core? If it didn't care whether
they got back to the core, why keep communications
disabled?
But they had no choice. They wouldn't accomplish
anything more here.

"From now on," Sisko said, "we travel side by side
at all times."
"We're leaving him?" the woman protested.
"We have to," Sisko said. "Come on."
"He's right," the trapped Bajoran called. "I'll be
fine; you go on."
Reluctantly, the others joined Sisko, and at the
commander's suggestion they linked arms and
marched on in a solid line.
The party reached the airlock--and a faint hum
alerted Sisko. He turned, and discovered that more of
the security force fields had come on again. He and his
party could no longer move either way along the
docking ring.
The airlock door was open, though.
Was Enak herding them somewhere?
Perhaps it was just separating them from the
Cardassians--but why? Enak had said it wanted more
deaths; if it turned the Cardassians loose it might get
some.
But, Sisko realized, it didn't just want more deaths;
it wanted slower deaths.
None of his crew would willingly kill anyone slowly,
he was certain of thatrebut judging by their record
during the occupation of Bajor, the same couldn't be
said of the Cardassians.
What was going on back there, on the other side of
that blast door? Was Enak herding Sisko's group away
so that they wouldn't cut through that door and
interfere?
Or, worse, was Enak going to open the blast doors
and let the entire party of Cardassians go up against
the lone Bajoran officer?
"Damn," Sisko muttered, as he stared at the shim-
mering glow of the forcefield.




They still had their phasers; perhaps they could
blast the forcefields out of the walls.
But phasers couldn't get through the blast doors in
time to help Odo--and if Enak saw them start back
toward the trapped Bajoran, it might turn the
Cardassians loose. It wanted a fight, after all; it wanted
as many deaths as it could get.
At last Sisko decided that the best thing he could do
was to get back to Ops, get O'Brien and Dax to work
overriding Enak's control, beam Odo and the security
man out of there ....
He couldn't do anything out here. Enak wasn't
going to let anyone come out through upper pylon
two--Sisko could see the forcefield blocking pylon
access.
He had to get back to Ops.
"Come on," he said as he led his party through the
airlock, "hurry!"

CHAPTER
29

THE CARDASSIANS STARED AT the gelatinous orange
puddle that covered the chest of one of their uncon-
scious comrades and spilled over onto the floor of the
corridor on either side.
"What is it?" one of them asked.
"It must be that shape-changer thing," another
replied. "Odo, it calls itself. It served as a peacekeeper
on this station during the last few years of the occupa-
tion."
"How do you know?" the first asked.
"I served on this station for a year," the veteran
answered.
"It stayed behind when we withdrew?" a third
asked.
"Apparently." the first said.
"A traitor, then--kill it!"
The others looked at each other, then down at the
puddle.




"How?" one of them asked.
"A phaser should dispose of it."
"But it's all over Tushad."
"Is he dead?"
"He's breathing."
"What about the others?"
"They're all breathing."
"They really did set to stun!" The Cardassians
marveled at such impractical mercy.
"Idiots," one of them said. "Not that I mind," he
hastened to add, with a glance at their four uncon-
scious compatriots.
"Maybe they're worried about reprisals if they kill
any of us," another suggested.
For a moment the four of them stood there, unsure
what to do next; then one asked, "Shouldn't we be
working on the doors, and trying to get out of here?
We're trapped in here, in this one little section of the
docking bay, and the Bajorans know it--if they're
planning to do anything to us, they know right where
we are."
The others glanced uneasily at the speaker, then at
each other.
"He's right," another said. "We either need to
retreat or advance, we can't just stay here."
"If we retreat to the ship Gul Dukat won't like it,"
the first said warningly.
"I don't like having our retreat cut offi"
"I didn't expect them to put up a real fight."
"They didn't," the one who had called their oppo-
nents idiots said. "Phasers set to stun, running and
closing the doors at the first opportunity, that's not a
fight.t"
"Five out of the nine of us unconscious looks like a
real fight to me!"

"I wish we still had an officer conscious," another
muttered.
"Or that our communicators worked," someone
added.
"They don't?" The speaker turned in surprise; he
had not thought to test the communicators.
"No, I tried," the other said. "They're being
jammed somehow."
"You are Cardassians," an unfamiliar voice said,
interrupting them.
All four looked around, startled.
"Your species is not familiar to me," the voice
continued. "However, I understand that you have
displayed a willingness to kill."
The Cardassians looked at one another. "A willing-
ness to kill what?" one of them asked.
The voice didn't answer; instead, it went on, "I wish
to observe death. The Ferengi Quark has taught me
the concept of payment for services, and I therefore
make the following offer. If you kill one of your party
by a method slow enough to allow careful observation
of the entire procedure, I will open whatever barriers
you wish, so that you may go wherever you please in
this station."
For a moment, the four looked at one another, not
considering the offer, but simply baffled. What in the
galaxy were they dealing with here?
"We're not going to kill each other to please some
alien?' a Cardassian shouted at last. "Who are you,
anyway?"
"What are you?" another asked.
"I am Enak," the voice replied. "I am the tschak
ship docked at the end of upper pylon two. I have
assumed functional control of all computer systems
on this.station."




"The ship we were supposed to capture?" a
Cardassian asked quietly; no one answered.
"Well, no Cardassian is going to kill another just to
please the whims of some alien computer!" shouted
the Cardassian who had made the first refusal. The
others murmured agreement, with varying degrees of
conviction.
For a moment there was no reply; then Enak asked,
"Is this true?'~
"Is what true?"
"Is it true that no Cardassian would kill another
simply to please me?"
"Well none of us will, certainly," a realist among
the Cardassians replie&
"If not to please me, then what price would be,
sufficient to convfnce you to kill another Cardassian
slowly?" Enak asked. "Would free access to either
your ship or the rest of Deep Space Nine be suffi-
cient?"
"No!"
"Then what price would be sufficient to convince
you to kill another Cardassian slowly?" Enak asked,
sounding a trifle exasperated.
"None!" the Cardassian shouted.
Enak considered that silently for a second or two,
then said, "The station records indicate that Car-
dassians have killed many Bajorans in the past. Would
you be willing to kill a Bajoran slowly, in exchange for
your freedom?"
The four Cardassians again looked at one another
uncertainly.
"A Bajoran?" one of them asked.
"Any particular Bajoran?"
"No individual Bajoran is specified," Enak said.
"Any healthy Bajoran would suffice."

"How slowly..." one began. Then he shook his
head. "No. We aren't taking orders from you!"
"What price would be sufficient to convince you to
kill a Bajoran as slowly as possible?" Enak asked.
"'As slowly as possible' could take days!" protested
the veteran of the occupation.
"I don't particularly want to kill anyone," said
another. "I mean, in battle is one thing--torturing
someone to death to please a computer is another."
"What would you give us?" asked a third.
The others all fell silent momentarily, waiting for
the answer to that.
"Free access to anywhere in the station," Enak
offered immediately.
"Not enough," the Cardassian replied, equally im-
mediately. He had had some experience bargaining,
and knew better than to ever even consider a first
offer.
"What about control of the station?" one of the
others asked. "Would you turn all of Deep Space Nine
over to us completely?"
Enak hesitated. "That might be possible, but it is
not certain."
"And the wormhole?" another asked.
"Whoever controls this station controls the worm-
hole, stupid," the first Cardassian said, glowering at
his companion.
"I might require that several Bajorans be killed,"
Enak said. "A single observation may not be suffi-
cient."
"How are we going to find any Bajorans in the first
place?" another Cardassian protested.
"I have trapped a Bajoran on the other side of the
blast door," Enak said. "I can trap others and lead you
to them, as well."




"Unarmed Bajorans?" the Cardassian asked warily.
"The one on the other side of the blast doors is
armed, but his phaser is still set to stun. If additional
Bajorans are required, unarmed ones will be located."
"Before we get carried away," a third Cardassian
said, "can this thing really deliver the station to us?
And is that what we want?"
The others looked at one another.
"What about the ship?" asked one. "We were sent
on board here in the first place to capture the alien
ship, not the station!"
"That's right," the first agreed. "Will you turn the
alien ship over to us for study?"
"I am the ship," Enak objected. "My orders forbid
relinquishing control to anything other than tschak."
"So you won't do it?"
"I cannot relinquish control of myself."
"The ship or nothing," the Cardassian who knew
bargaining said, folding his arms over his chest in a
pose of absolute determination. "If you give us that
ship of yours and let us take it away with us, we'll kill a
Bajoran for you, nice and slow. Otherwise, there's no
deal."
"I cannot relinquish control of myself," Enak said
again. "No deal is possible,"
The Cardassian stood, smiling quietly, waiting for
Enak's counteroffer.
It never came, and as the seconds grew into minutes
the confident smile weakened and vanished. Enak wasn't speaking to them anymore.
The others began to look angrily at the bargainer,
but no one spoke, as they were still hoping Enak
would say something more.
Then the first of the phaser-stunned officers began
to stir, and the conscious members of the Cardassian

VALYtALLA

boarding party temporarily forgot about the insane
computer and its bizarre interest in torturing
Bajorans to death as they helped their superior up.
A moment later, when all but one of the
Cardassians were upright again, and a debate was
beginning about what should be done with Odo, Enak
spoke again.
"I have reconsidered the situation," it said. "I
cannot turn myself over to you. However, Quark was
satisfied with a copy of the complete plans for my
ship. Would those plans be sufficient payment for
slowly killing a Bajoran?"
One of the officers, still slightly dazed, demanded,
"Who is that? What's it talking about?"
One of the Cardassians who had not been stunned
quickly explained.
"I think that would do just fine," the officer said.
"Where's this Bajoran?"
"JUst beyond the blast door," Enak said.
"The rest of 'em aren't thereT'
"No. Commander Sisko and the others are in the
connecting tunnel to the core." "They can't get back here?"
"No. Security forcefields are active."
"And you can open the door here?"
"Yes."
"All right, then--you men, get up against the door,
ready to jump. You want this slow, computer? No
phasers?"
"No phasers," Enak agreed.
"Then you men need to knock the phaser out of the
Bajoran's hand," the officer said. "Then get him down
on the floor, and we can take our time."
"Yes, sir." The Cardassian soldiers lined up against
the door, poised to leap~




"Whenever you're ready, computer," the officer
said, standing with phaser ready, just in case the
Bajoran was tougher than expected.
The blast door began to slide open; the moment the
opening was wide enough, the Cardassians surged
through it.
The Bajoran had expected an attack, but he had
expected phasers, and phasers can't shoot around
corners; he had taken shelter behind the framework of
the blast door. He was not ready for the fists and the
grabbing hands that came at him, easily reaching
around the steel casing.
In seconds, the Cardassians had him down on the
floor, buried beneath his enemies, his phaser torn
from his hand and flung aside. A heavy hand caught
his face and rammed his head back against the metal
flooring, and his struggles stopped.
One by one, the Cardassians climbed off their
victim; four of them held him down, one kneeling on
each forearm, one kneeling on each leg.
Then the officer advanced, pulling a knife from his
pocket.
"The machine wants this slow, we'll do it slow," the
officer said. "I saw this in a training film once--we'll
flay him alive, starting with his hands."
One of the Cardassians blanched visibly; two of the
others looked at each other uneasily.
The officer's own hand trembled slightly as he held
the knife, but he didn't hesitate as he stepped up to the
prisoner and stooped by his left hand.
The Bajoran began screaming as the blade of the
knife cut into his palm, and thrashed so strongly one
of the Cardassians lost hold, freeing one leg; there was
another brief struggle as the Bajoran was restrained
again.

He screamed the whole time, and blood dripped
from his hand, smearing on the floor.
Beyond the blast door, in the corridor by the
airlock, a forgotten orange puddle rippled.
Odo heard the screams, and his every instinct cried
out for action, to help the screamer--but he was still
hurt, still weak.
He had to act, he knew he had to act--but he also
knew he wouldn't be able to do too much. One shape,
for maybe ten minutes, and he would need rest, would
collapse into a puddle again.
He had to make his one shape count.
He gathered himself together and reared up, ex-
panding hugely, growing armored scales and ropy
tentacles until he was a seething grey-green mass that
half-filled the corridor. Then he charged.
The Cardassians, intent as they were on their in-
tended victim, didn't look up until Odo was almost
upon them. Even then, they were too shocked to move
at first.
Odo reached out with tentacles as thick as a man's
thigh and picked two Cardassians up by the scruff of
the neck, as if they were mere kittens. He flung them
back against the airlock door, then reached for two
more.
"Get away from him!" Odo roared.
A moment later, nine Cardassians lay or cowered by
the airlock door, nursing various bumps and bruises,
while Odo, still in monstrous form, crouched protec-
tively over the Bajoran security man.
The Bajoran sat up, clutching his bleeding hand.
"Close the blast door!" Odo bellowed.
"I wish to see this Bajoran die," Enak said.
Odo started at the computer's voice, then answered,




"Not on my station! Nobody dies here, not today, not
while I'm here! Close that damned door!"
"I am unsure of your capabilities," Enak said.
"Damn right!" Odo replied. "I'm capable of dealing
with you!"
For a fraction of a second, Enak seemed to consider.
Then the blast door slid shut.
"The deal is off," Enak told the Cardassians.
Approximately six seconds later, Odo collapsed
into a puddle again.

CHAPTER
3O

"THE TRANSPORTERS aren't working," Major Kira said
as O'Brien rose into sight. "And all communications
are being jammed."
"I'd guessed," O'Brien said, as he hurried off the
turbolift. "I'm just glad that the Cardassian engineers
who built this station put the weapons sails so close in,
so the walk back here wasn't any longer than it was.
This must be more of Enak's doing--it's a wonder the
lifts still work!".
"I wish you hadn't said that," Dax said.
Startled, O'Brien paused in his headlong dash for
the engineering console and looked at Dax.
"Enak's listening to everything we say," Major Kira
explained. "Now that you've pointed out that the
turbolifts still work, Enak may decide to alter that."
"Ah," O'Brien said. "Ah, I see your point. Sorry,
Major, Lieutenant, I wasn't thinking." He reached the
engineering panel, studied the readouts, and despite




INAI MAN /~KCHI:K

his doubts, decided against asking for any sort of
confirmation that what they reported was accurate.
Enak would hear.
"We've been trying," Major Kira said, "but we
haven't been able to clear any of the main systems.
Enak has complete control of DS-Nine."
O'Brien didn't reply; he was busy seeing the situa-
tion for himself.
The transporters were down because Enak was
sending them error messages, reducing any coordi-
nates they received to gibberish. Communications
were being suppressed by a series of interlocking
subspace fields. Many of the station's security
forcefields appeared to be in use, shutting off various
sections of the station more or less at random, and
trapping people where they were. The ship's central
computer was off-line--Enak had taken direct control
of all its functions, rather than merely using it as a
conduit as it had before.
"Damn," O'Brien said.
He hoped no one else had been injured by the
forcefields, or any of Enak's other actions; he wished
the communicators were working, so he could check
on the whereabouts of his wife and daughter. There
were no life readings in Keiko's schoolroom; no
classes had been in session when Enak took over.
But they weren't in the family quarters, either.
O'Brien hoped they'd been shopping in the Prome-
nade, or strolling somewhere.
There were nine Cardassians in the airlock access
corridor at port three in the docking ring. Just the
other side of the blast doors was a Bajoran, and
something else was in there with himrathe readings
were unclear, but O'Brien had seen something like
them before, and recognized it as Odo, in liquid form.
What the devil was going on there? Why were Odo

VALI-IALLA

and that security man alone? Where was Commander
Sisko?
Judging by the readings, the Cardassians were ap-
parently just beginning the process of cutting through
the blast doors--a slow process, even with phasers.
O'Brien wished he knew what they were planning;
were they going to work their way on up the pylon, or
were they planning to make their way in toward the
habitat ring and the station core?
And what would Odo and that security man do to
stop them?
O'Brien didn't know, and it was not, thank God,
really his problem.
There was a party of humanoids moving rapidly
through the connecting tunnel between that section of
the docking ring and the core--that was probably
Sisko and the rest of his group.
But why were they coming back toward the core,
instead of confronting the Cardassian invaders?
And why was Enak allowing it?
In fact, O'Brien noticed, Enak was not only allow-
ing it, it was encouraging it--the corridor ahead of
that group was clear, but whenever they passed a
security point the forcefield would come on behind
them.
And just then a forcefield came on ahead of the
party, as well. They were trapped in the connecting
tunnel, just Outside the habitat ring. Enak was isolat-
ing them there.
O'Brien scanned quickly through the rest of the
station, and discovered that Enak had isolated several
individuals or small groups in various places. But why?
It looked somehow sinister, and O'Brien didn't like
it at all.
Enak was... not exactly playing with the station;




although it was childlike in many ways, O'Brien didn't
think Enak was interested in play. No, Enal~ was doing
something, but it wasn't a game.
It was more like an experiment. O'Brien remem-
bered reading accounts of primitive psychology exper-
iments that used rats trapped in mazes, tormented so
that scientists could study their responses.
Enak was treating the people of Deep Space Nine as
experimental subjects.
And O'Brien had heard enough to guess what Enak
intended to study.
Enak wanted to study death.
Sure enough, even as that morbid thought crossed
his mind, he saw the readouts on station life-support
report a total shutdown on Level 19, Sector 38, in the
third quadrant of the habitat ring.
Two people were trapped there--from the readings,
probably Bajoran, one male, one female.
And Enak was removing their air supply, venting it
slowly out into space through an emergency system
intended to deal with excess pressure in case of
structural damage.
"Damn!" O'Brien said again. He felt horribly help-
less; there was nothing he could do in time that Enak
couldn't overridewnot unless he went down there
and tore the forcefield generators right out of the
walls, and he doubted Enak would let him get close
enough to do that.
He had to get control of the station's computers
back from Enak somehow.
"Is there anything we can do?" Major Kira asked.
"I've tried, but haven't managed anything," Dax
said. "I'm afraid you know far more about these
Cardassian computers than I do."
"I don't know if I can do anything," O'Brien

VALHALLA

replied. "And I'm not sure anyone, even the Car-
dassians, really understands these blasted machines."
Right at that moment, O'Brien hated every Car-
dassian computer designer who had ever lived; their
creations were the most difficult, untrustworthy ma-
chines he had ever dealt with. O'Brien could never get
them to behave exactly the way he wanted--but Enak
apparently could.
Nor was Enak the first; this was the second time
some damnable alien gadget out of the wormhole had
screwed up the station's computers. The last time it
had been a lonely little artificial intelligence they had
nicknamed the Pup, and he had dealt with it by
creating its own little niche where it could play. Was
there any way to do the same with Enak?
No, because Enak wanted to play with people, not
computers; it was using the computers as a means to
an end, not as an end in themselves. The Pup wanted
attention, but it interpreted that in terms of computer
commands, and as long as copies of all commands
were routed through its own subprogram, it was
happy.
Enak wasn't going to be fooled so easily. It was
much more attached to external reality than the Pup
had ever been; it existed in a real-world environment,
not the virtual world of the computers. Enak didn't
care about controlling the station's computers except
as a tool in its study of death.
O'Brien wondered whether Enak had noticed the
Pup. The Pup had had a grand old time messing up
the station's computers when it first came aboard, and
it hadn't even had Enak's ability to get into systems
without a direct connection.
But the Pup was a harmless thing, and irrelevant.
O'Brien started to chastise himself for wasting time




even thinking about such things when people were
dying, then stopped. Was it irrelevant?
Had Enak noticed the Pup?
Had the Pup noticed Enak?
Inspiration struck.
"Computer," he said, "route subroutine 'Pup'
through docking communications port in upper pylon
two."
"Working. Complete."
"What will that do?" Major Kira asked, looking up
at O'Brien. "Wasn't that the alien probe that gave us
trouble when those ambassadors were here?"
"That's the one," O'Brien said. "I don't know for
sure if it will do a blessed thing. What I hope... yes!"
As he looked at the readouts, they flickered abruptly.
Instructions were being countermanded. Signals
were being blocked. New software subroutines were
interfering with Enak's orders.
Enak was losing control. The Pup was out of its
doghouse and in Enak's virtual lap, and it had noticed
that Enak was running the station. It wanted atten-
tion, wanted to play, so it was doing the cybernetic
equivalent of jumping up and licking Enak's face.
Distracted, countered by one of its own distant
relatives, Enak was unable to dominate the computer
systems; it was kept busy just dealing with the Pup's
friendly overtures.
A major reason no human had been able to retake
control from Enak was that Enak operated at a
computer's speed, and in a fraction of a second could
find a way around anything a human could do--but
the Pup was just as fast as Enak.
It was fast enough to keep Enak busy doing nothing
but countering it.

VALHALLA

And while Enak was busy, the computers were more
or less free again.
O'Brien hit the emergency overrides and shut down
the security force fields throughout the station; that
would let air into corridor H-19-38, even if it didn't
immediately stop the outflow, and would free the
other trapped people throughout Deep Space Nine.
That done, he set about wresting as much control as
he could back from Enak.
Dax, seeing what was happening, joined in.
O'Brien knew they didn't have long; Enak would
find a permanent way around the Pup soon enough,
some way to pen the thing up again--or perhaps
destroy it, though O'Brien sincerely hoped not.
Still, if they could temporarily detach enough func-
tions from the station's central computers, and put
enough blocks in place that Enak's vibratory tricks
couldn't get through them, they might be able to keep
Enak from controlling things so completely from now
on.
Communications were still jammed, and the trans-
porter needed too much computing capability to be
used safely, but there were plenty of other things to be
done.
Most important, though, they had to know what
Enak had done in the first place; calling instructions
to Dax and the rest of the Ops crew, O'Brien began
analyzing the power and data flows throughout Deep
Space Nine.
Almost immediately, he discovered something he
found absolutely fascinating.
Enak was running something through the docking
port where Gul Dukat's ship was secured, something
that carried a very large amount of data.
Enak was, O'Brien guessed, trying to take over the
Cardassian ship as it had Deep Space Nine.




Had the Cardassians discovered that yet?
The station's internal communications were still
down, but external channels might be available, with a
little work--should the Cardassians be told?
Technically, he supposed he ought to ask his superi-
ors, Major Kira and Lieutenant Dax. He would have
to tell them eventually. Right now, though, he was
very busy, wasn't he? And he didn't think the
Cardassians deserved that much consideration.
"Hell, no," O'Brien muttered to himself. "Let them
have a turn!"

CHAPTER

31

"ENAK!" SlSKO SHOUTED.
Tile computer didn't answer. The control pad on
the corridor wall had gone completely dead. He and
the security team were trapped here in the connecting
tunnel.
Sisko turned to the others. "Do any of you know a
way around the forcefields?" he asked.
After all, the forcefields were there as part of the
station's security systems, and these people were all
part of station security.
The security people shook their heads. "Providing a
way around them would rather defeat their purpose,
sir," one of the Bajorans remarked.
"I know that," Sisko growled, turning back to the
control pad. "That hardly means it can't be done."
He jabbed at the controls, trying to elicit a response
--any response. What was Enak up to now'? Why had
it trapped them here?




It presumably still wanted to watch people die; did
it plan to kill them all?
"If we can just get past this set of forcefields," he
asked, "is there some way we can avoid getting bottled
up like this again?"
The security people looked at one another.
"There are the power conduits," one of them sug-
gested. "There aren't any security fields in those.?'
"But there's the power flow!" another protested.
"You'd be fried in an instant if someone turned it on
while you were in there,"
Sisko shook his head. "That won't do. What's the
fastest way to Ops from here? Are there any servlce
tunnels or anything that would be faster than the
public corridorsT'
No one knew of any.
For a moment they all simply stood, looking about
helplessly, as Sisko's frustration grew.
"What is that thing doing to my station?" he
demanded, as he rammed his fist against the useless
panel.
No one answered.
Then, abruptly, the forcefields vanished--Sisko
glimpsed the change in the light from the corner of his
eye, and whirled to see, Yes, they were down!
Sisko didn't know how or why, or how long it would
last, but the forcefields were down--all of them, for
the entire length of the connecting tunnel.
"Come on!" he shouted, as he ran full-speed down,
the passage.
He left the security team behind, but he didn't care;
he just wanted to get back to Ops before Enak put the
forcefields back up. Every second, he expected to find,
himself ramming into an invisible barrier.
Then he. was through. the tunnel and into the core,

in the Promenade, where there were no forcefields to
worry about, but crowds of milling people blocked his
way. He caught snatches of conversation as he pushed
through--others had been trapped in various parts of
the station, then suddenly freed, all without explana-
tion.
He glimpsed Jake and Nog and Quark, talking
together, and he waved to them, but kept moving.
He boarded the turbolift, and waited impatiently as
it rose upward, dreading the moment when Enak
would return and trap him somewhere in the upper
core--but it was faster than climbing the service
tunnels, and Enak could trap him in those just as well,
with the force fields and emergency doors. And at last he emerged into Ops.
O'Brien and Dax were at their stations, working
frantically at something; someone's boots were visible
under one of the consoles, where whoever it was
working at the isolinear optics of the station's com-
puter system.
Major Kira was standing to one side, watching
readouts on a panel, but not appearing as involved as
the others.
"Major, report!" he snapped.
She turned, and gave a quick account of the situa-
tion, of O'Brien's strategem in using the Pup to create
a distraction so that they could cut systems loose from
Enak's control.
"Chief, how's it working?" Sisko asked. "What's
Enak still got hold of?."
O'Brien answered. "Well, Commander," he said,
"it's still got the transporters out of service--we can't
use them, but I've made sure that it can't use them,
either, and we can all be grateful it didn't think of
using them before, to shuffle people wherever it
pleased! It's still able to jam all internal communica-




tions that are carried by the station's systems, but I
think I have subspace frequencies clear--we should
have external communications, and at least in theory,
our comm badges should work." "Good," Sisko said.
O'Brien nodded an acknowledgment and contin-
ued, "We've got the security forcefields shut down--
neither side can use them. Enak still has control of all
the airlocks and emergency doors, though, and we
haven't yet been able to restore the weapons it disa-
bled. The actual computer functions are shut down--
neither side can use them. And there are several things
I'm not sure about." He hesitated, then added, "And
there's something very strange here, sir--I've found a
file that appears to be the complete technical specifica-
tions of Enak's ship. There are several copies in our
own computers, addressed to different people--one
directed to me, one to Dax, one to Quark, one to
Muhammed Goldberg, half a dozen others. I don't
understand it."
Sisko frowned. "I don't understand it either, Chief.
Anything else?'~
O'Brien hesitated even longer before admitting, "I
think, Commander, that Enak has tapped through the
station into the Cardassian ship's computers--it's
using that vibratory trick. I wish I knew how it did
that--and I'll wager the Daystrom Institute would
love to know, too!"
"The Cardassians?" A slow smile spread across
Sisko's face. "It's getting into their computer?"
"WelI, sir, if it can control ours, it can control theirs;
after all, they're both the same basic design. It just has
to find a way to route its control through the docking
port, and apparently it's managed that."
Major Kira was glaring at O'Brien. "Chief, why
didn't you tell me about this?" she demanded.

VALHALLA

Sisko glanced at her, then joined his first officer in
glaring at the chief.
"Uh... you didn't ask?" O'Brien said sheepishly,
abashed by that double stare.
Then Sisko let that drop. "Never mind that now,"
he said. "Where is the Cardassian boarding party? Is
Constable Odo all right?"
"Odo and that security man headed in toward the
core the moment the forcefields shut down," O'Brien
reported. "They appear to be injured--we haven't
had time to try to contact them. The Cardassians cut
through the blast doors, but they didn't follow Odo,
they're moving up upper pylon two--I've got the
turbolift there shut down, so they're climbing the
ladders, and it's slow going." Sisko frowned,
If they had had transporter capabilities, he would
have had Odo and the security man beamed directly
to Dr. Bashir's office, but as it was, they would have to
find their own way. At least the shapeshifter wasn't in
liquid form anymore; he must be recovering from the
phaser hit.
"Comm badges are working?"
"They should be."
"Major, call Dr. Bashir," Sisko said, turning. "Tell
him to head out toward docking bay three to meet the
constable?'
"Yes, sir," Kira said.
Sisko turned back to O'Brien. "You said we have
external communications?"
"I think so, yeah," O'Brien said.
"And Enak's been interfering with the Cardassian
ship?"
"Yes, sir."
Sisko smiled. "Good," he said. "Dax, get me Gul
Dukar on the main viewer."




"Yes, Benjamin."
The screen lit up.
"Ah, Commander Sisko," Gul Dukat said, settling
into his seat--he had obviously been attending to
something when the call had come through. "You
wish to speak to me?" Sisko thought the Cardassian's
face showed some signs of strain, but his voice was
still calm. "To surrender, perhaps?"
"Hardly, Gul Dukat," Sisko said. "To offer you a
warning, rather. Have you, perhaps, suffered any
computer malfunctions recently?"
Gul Dukat's expression grew wary. "Why do you
ask? It wouldn't be any of your doing, would it?"
"No, no," Sisko assured him. "I ask because we've
noticed that the derelict ship on upper pylon two has
been communicating with your own ship."
"The derelict is doing this?" Dukat glanced at
someone offscreen, where Sisko and the others
couldn't see him or her; this person, whoever it was,
apparently confirmed the report.
"Working through DS-Nine, yes," Sisko said.
"Ah. Thank you, Commander, for mentioning this.
It's very kind of you." Gul Dukat gazed out at Sisko
with a measuring expression, as if trying to analyze
just what Sisko's motives were. "I think perhaps we'll
cut our little courtesy call to your delightful station
short--but before we leave the vicinity, perhaps we'll
see if we can't unjam those mooring clamps of yours
on upper pylon two. ! would think a few phaser blasts
should get those circuits working, don't you?"
Before Sisko could reply, Dukat's image vanished.
Those final remarks were clear enough; Dukat in-
tended to blow off the docking port on upper pylon
two, and take Enak, whether it wanted to go or not.
Sisko thought it was tempting to just let the

Cardassians have the damned thing--but it was too
dangerous. If they could learn to control Enak, could.
learn how it did its tricks, then they would be able to
sabotage computers all through Bajoran and Federa-
tion space.
Besides, it would provide Gul Dukat with the
trophy he needed to claim the leadership of the D~/a
Bajora Karass, and the Federation did not need that.
"The Cardassian ship is undocking, Commander,"
O'Brien reported.
"But the Cardassian boarding party is still halfway
up upper pylon two," Dax said.
"Lower our shields, Lieutenant," Sisko ordered.
"Get me Dukat again."
Once more, the Cardassian's image appeared.
"Whatever is it this time, Commander?" Gul Dukat
asked impatiently.
"1 thought you might want to retrieve your men,"
Sisko said. "I wanted to reassure you that our shields
will remain down until you have safely transported
them."
Dukat stared at Sisko for a long moment.
"That's very considerate of you, Commander," he
said at last. "Thank you."
The connection broke once again.
"Chief O'Brien," Sisko said, "keep the station's
sensors on the Cardassians and see how long it takes
them to beam those men out. That will give us an idea
how much damage Enak did to them before they cut
loose from DS-Nine."
"Commander," Kira protested, "you're going to
just give them back their boarding party?"
Sisko turned to her and said, "Of course. What
would we do with them?"
"Keep them as hostages until we had Gul Dukat's




word to leave Enak alone! And until we had some sort
of vengeance for those dead children on Andros!"
Sisko stared at her. "You'd take a Cardassian's
word? You would?" Kira hesitated.
Sisko continued, "And you think that a Cardas-
sian commander like Gul Dukat would give up a
prize like Enak to save half a dozen of his own
men?"
Kira's shoulders sagged.
"No," she said, "he probably wouldn't." She
glanced up at the main viewer. "But then, how are we
going to keep Gul Dukat from taking Enak? Our
weapons are all still off-line, and you heard what he
said--he's going to shear off the top of the pylon and
tractor Enak away!" A realization struck. "And you
just told him that we're going to keep the shields down
while he does it!"
"The shields wouldn't do us all that much good in
any case," Sisko replied. "Not when he can sit out
there and take his time. Besides, if he takes Enak
before rescuing his men, they'll probably be killed by
the decompression when he cuts open that pylon.
Killing his own men wouldn't look good to the folks
back home, would it?"
"No," Kira admitted, "but do you think... Would
he... Would you be willing to see those Cardassians
die just so we can frustrate Gul Dukat's political
ambitions?"
"I don't want to see anyone die," Sisko answered,
"and I don't think Gul Dukat is going to make such a
foolish mistakerebut if he did, wouldn't it be worth
half a dozen Cardassian lives to prevent a full-scale
war?"
"Maybe. But that doesn't matter," Kira said. "You

still haven't answered merehow are we going to stop
him from taking Enak?"
"I don't know," Sisko admitted. "I'm not sure we
are. At this point, I think we might as well leave Enak
to fend for itself." He smiled humortessly. "After all,
it's pretty good at that."




CHAPTER
32

"THE CARDASSIAN BOARDING PARTY has been safely
transported away, Benjamin," Dax announced.
"Good. Shields up."
"Shields up."
"Enak," Sisko said, "can you hear me?"
There was no answer.
"Chief," he said, "can you put the Pup back in its
doghouse?"
"Of course," O'Brien replied, "but that will leave
Enak with completely free rein again." "We'll have to risk it; do it."
O'Brien's eyes made it plain that he didn't like the
idea, but he obeyed.
"Computer," he said, "remove subroutine 'Pup'
from all docking area systems and restore it to its
previous hardware sites."
"Working. Completed."
O'Brien looked down at his display, started to say
something, then stopped as the screens went blank.

VALHALLA

"Damn!" he said. "Commander, Enak's back in
control already."
Sisko nodded. He looked up at the main viewer.
"Enak, listen to me!" he said. "The other ship, the
Cardassian ship--it's preparing to attack the station,
to cut you free. It will then tractor you away. We don't
want our station damaged; will you restore our weap-
ons so that we may defend ourselves?" Nothing answered.
"Will you allow the Cardassians to capture you?"
Dax asked, after a moment of silence. "They will not
allow you to die, Enak; they wish to study you alive."
"Will they permit me to observe slow deaths?" the
computer's voice asked.
"No," Sisko answered immediately.
Beside him, Major Kira wished she could be as sure
of that as Sisko seemed to be.
"Enak," Sisko said, "you shouldn't want to die.
And you shouldn't kill. Study your records--all living
things wish to continue living, do they not?"
"No," Enak promptly replied. "Suicide is common
to many of the cultures described in your station's
records."
"But murder is always a crime--causing another's
death is wrong."
"There are exceptions," Enak said, "but I am aware
that the general case is as you state. I am also aware of
the most corntrion and appropriate penalty."
"What penalty..." Sisko began.
He was interrupted when O'Brien let out a startled
yelp as his console suddenly returned to full life.
Quickly, the engineer called up a status readout.
"Commander," he called, "Enak is undocking from
the station."
"On viewer," Sisko snapped.
Instantly, he had a view of the outside of the




station, seen from the pickup at the top of the
communications cluster. Enak was, indeed, detaching
itself from the station.
And behind it, the Cardassian warship was moving
into attack position.
"Enak!" Sisko shouted. "Can you hear me?"
O'Brien replied, "We have no direct communica-
tions link to Enak anymore."
"Commander," Dax said, "Enak is hailing us."
"Put it on."
The image on the viewer did not change, but a
voice--a strange, deep voice, not the familiar voice of
the computer--spoke. Sisko realized that he was
hearing Enak's own voice for the first time.
"You will not allow me to study death, to find my
way to the tschak Heaven," Enak said. "And your
priests have told me that this study would, in any case,
condemn me to Hell, so I must abandon it and
attempt to find my own way. In my efforts to find
inner peace and to understand death I have incapaci-
tated your weapons beyond my ability to restore them
in time to be of use, and this has had a cost; Quark has
taught me that debts must be paid. I therefore find
only one appropriate course of action."
"What the devil's the bloody thing talking about?"
O'Brien asked. "It's been talking to Quark?"
"By leaving the station, it's made it unnecessary for
GUl Dukat to fire at the pylon," Dax pointed out.
"I think it's more than that," Sisko said. "Look."
Enak was swinging around, bringing its nose direct-
ly in line with the Cardassian cruiser's weapons.
"Enak," Sisko said, "you don't need to do this. We
understand that you meant us no harm, that you were
just following your programming."
"I must find the way to Heaven," Enak replied.

P~LH,~LL~

And then it accelerated at full power directly to-
ward the Cardassian ship.
By the time the Cardassians were able to fire, it was
too late--Enak drove nose-first into the warship's
forward weapons array.
The people of Deep Space Nine watched in horror as
metal and plastic crumpled, silent in the vacuum of
space; then, inevitably, came the explosion as the
power conduits in the Cardassian phaser banks over-
loaded and ruptured. Debris and dust scattered in a
glowing, radioactive cloud.
Enak was gone; the far larger Cardassian warship
was drifting off at an angle, trailing wreckage, but still
mostly in one piece.
"Get me through to Gul Dukat," Sisko barked.
"Find out if there's anything we can do to help."
Dax obeyed.
The image that appeared on the viewer was blurred
and unsteady. "We're rather busy just now, Com-
mander," Gul Dukat said.
"I just wanted to offer our assistance," Sisko said.
"Is there anything we can do?"
"Oh, I think you've already done quite enough,"
Gul Dukat said.
Then he cut off transmission.
Sisko stared at the blank viewer for a moment.
"Exterior on viewer," he ordered.
The image of' stars, station, and scattered wreckage
reappeared, in time for them to watch the Cardassian
ship turn its battered nose in a direction Sisko judged
to be a straight line to Cardassia.
"Scanners report the Cardassian ship is at fifteen
percent power, all phaser banks destroyed," O'Brien
called. "Main drives still functional. Major loss of
atmosphere. Sir, there are at least four dead
Cardassians drifting in the wreckage."




"If they leave them..."
Sisko didn't need to finish his statement; he could
see the flickering as the bodies were beamed aboard.
Then, with a certain ponderous grace, Gul Dukat's
ship drove away from Deep Space Nine, leaving be-
hind a spreading, drifting cloud of debris.
"At that speed, he won't be home for weeks,"
O'Brien remarked.
Sisko nodded. "And I don't think he's going to find
himself held in much esteem when he gets there," he
said.
"And that's it, then," Kira said. "He'll lose face,
coming home like that. That's all the dangerous ones,
if Gul Kaidan was right."
"Let's hope he was," Sisko said. "And that's four
dead Cardassians--is that enough revenge for you,
Major?"
"No," she said, "not until we find some way to
reach whoever was responsible. But it's enough blood
for now."
"What about Enak?" Sisko asked. "I don't see any
sign of it."
"Totally destroyed," Dax replied. "I can't find any
single fragment larger than three meters."
For a moment, no one spoke; then Kira said, "It's
gone to Heaven."
Sisko glanced at her, then sighed. "Let's get the
tractors and runabouts started cleaning up that mess
out there, before one of those fragments punches
through the station wall somewhere."

EPILOGUE

"IT'S CONFIRMED," Major Kira reported, the moment
the door of the commander's office had closed behind
her. "The Goran Tokar had named Gul Burot as his
heir just before his hospitalization."
"And the Goran Tokar's chances for recovery?"
Sisko asked, feeling a trifle ghoulish. "Poor," Kira said. "Very poor."
"I suppose we should be pleased," Sisko said.
"We should be pleased that he chose Gul Burot,"
KJra replied, "but there's nothing pleasing about even
a Cardassian dying of some slow disease that way."
Sisko nodded agreement.
"Incidentally," Kira added, "the Goran Tokar is-
sued a statement explaining his choice. It's rather long
and rambling, but the gist of it is that he had intended
to name Gul Dukat as his successor, as the person who
knew most about what the Cardassian Empire gave up
on Bajor, but he could hardly do so after Dukat carne




home with a damaged ship and nothing to show for it.
So we did accomplish something."
"Or Enak did," Sisko suggested. "Not that there
was ever any doubt we'd have something to show for
it, even if Gul Dukat did not; we have the technical
readouts. Once those have been properly analyzed,
we'll be able to build Besrethine neural-net computers
--if we want to risk it."
"And if we do, will there be commercial applica-
tions?"
"Probably."
"Bajor will want royalties, then," Kira said. "Enak
was Bajoran property, under the laws of salvage."
"Enak was a sentient being, not anyone's property,"
Sisko retorted angrily.
"The tschak didn't think so."
"The tschak were wrong." He paused, then
shrugged. "If you want to advise the provisional
government to petition for a share of the profits, I'm
sure a case can be made, and I won't oppose it. I want
Bajor to thrive just as much as you do."
Kira didn't pursue the issue. Instead she asked, "Is
Odo all right?"
"Dr. Bashir says he's making an excellent recovery
--so far as he can tell," Sisko replied. "There are
disadvantages to being the only known member of
one's species; there's no way to judge what's normal.
At any rate, he's in good shape--good enough that he
insisted on telling me about some scheme Quark was
involved in." He smiled.
"What was Quark up to?" Kira asked, curiously.
"It seems he had a plan for stealing Enak," Sisko
said. "He admitted the whole thing, eventually--it
was his doing that Ensign Shula withdrew her com-
plaint about the Ashtarians, and that Enak gave us
those plans."

"Ensign Shula? He tricked her? But then..."
"No, no." Sisko held up a hand. "He simply showed
her that she was making a mistake."
Kira considered. "That doesn't sound like Quark,"
she said.
"Especially when I tell you that he hasn't been paid
for it yet--he gave the Ashtarians credit!"
"Is he sick? Maybe he should be in the infirmary,
instead of Odo!"
"He's fine; he just got carried away at the prospect
of having that tschak technology for himself."
Kira nodded thoughtfully. "It seems several people
did."
Sisko nodded. "Quark claims he was Enak's agent,
and is entitled to a share of whatever profits come
from the tschak technology." "He does?"
Sisko nodded. "He can petition, too," he said.
"Though somehow I doubt his claim will stand up."
"Do you suppose we'll ever find the tschak them-
selves?" Kira asked.
"It's a big galaxy, and by Enak's account they're a
small civilization," Sisko answered. "I wouldn't be
overly optimistic about it."
"That's a shame," Kira said.
Sisko agreed. "And not just because of the technolo-
gy," he said. "There aren't enough people out there
who choose not to arm their ships."
"And," Kira added, "who believe in Heaven, but no
Hell."






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