Chapter Text
Doctor Julian Bashir was running late and the thin, temporary wrapping on his newly acquired jacket was not cooperating: it simply refused to allow itself to be torn away. Why, he found himself wondering, did things like that always happen at the most inconvenient of moments? Finally, the thin cover tore open: He bundled it up and dropped it in the recycling chute before shrugging the now released garment over his shoulders. He paused by the door to grab his holdall before heading out of his quarters as fast as his legs would carry him without running: His three days leave had started an hour ago and he was determined not to miss the daily shuttle down to Bajor. As he neared the docking tube, his hand slipped into the inside pocket to pull out his wallet… and encountered something unexpected.
What was that doing in there? Julian pondered, coming to an abrupt halt in the busy corridor. His brow furrowed. Someone knocked into him and he mumbled an apology before stepping to the side of the corridor, seeking refuge from the flow of people.
He glanced at the small data chip, lying so unobtrusively in the palm of his hand, for a long handful of seconds before deciding that duty came before pleasure. He couldn’t just ignore the chip: he had to find out what was on it. It was his duty, even if he wasn’t simply curious. Shaking his head glumly at the prospect of his ruined shore leave, Lieutenant Dr Julian Bashir, Starfleet officer, turned around and headed for his office.
‘~’
“I assure you, Captain Sisko, Doctor Bashir,” Garak insisted with a most unconvincingly innocent smile plastered on his face. “I had no idea…. Yes, I believe that the doctor’s jacket was previously purchased by another customer…. “ Bashir gave a wan smile. “And promptly returned…. His spouse insisted that it did not suit him, apparently. I can only marvel at the poor taste of some ladies.” Garak winked at Bashir.
“Is that so?” Sisko seemed somewhat doubtful: his cynicism was not lost on Bashir. Garak’s protestations of innocence were almost convincing. If only the chip had not contained, amongst other ephemera, highly encoded details of some sort of covert meeting deep inside the Maquis-Cardassian territories, Captain Sisko might have been more inclined to believe him. It was intriguing. There were very few details – the coordinates of a planetoid were listed in the Federation records as a small, disputed or abandoned Maquis colony. There were suggestions that the Dominion delegation would be headed by at least a Vorta, that the Obsidian Order would be contributing to a high-level Cardassian delegation and that there would be a third delegation present, representatives of some place known only as the Scarran Imperium, whoever they might be. When that information was combined with some abstract ‘tide tables’ relating to subspace anomalies rippling out from the Bajoran wormhole, it was inevitable that Starfleet would want to investigate further.
“These things are not unusual in my profession. I would be a very poor businessman if I discarded my stock so casually….” Bashir watched, fascinated, as Captain Sisko rolled his baseball around beneath his fingers like a talisman of truth. Garak paused. He smiled again. Seconds ticked by. “Umm, if you would be so kind as to return the chip to me, perhaps I could try to return it to its rightful owner?” Captain Sisko gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Garak had the decency to alter his expression to show a modicum of disappointment at the decision.
And perhaps if the chip had not contained such an incendiary mix of information and if it hadn’t come to them via Garak, then Captain Sisko might not have insisted that the would-be tailor accompany the crew of the Defiant as they went to investigate.
‘~’
Eighteen monens had passed since the Ancient, Einstein, had erased the wormhole equations from former-IASA Commander John Crichton’s mind, but, newly-blonde or not, the ex-astronaut still felt drawn to wormholes. He knew that Aeryn Sun, his Sebacean, or should he say genetically enhanced human wife, did not approve of his obsession, but she allowed him this one indulgence. Today was, after all, the anniversary of him closing the wormhole to Earth in order to protect his home planet from the Scarrans. He was pretty sure that Aeryn had weighed up the risks and had decided that there would be little harm in allowing him to return to the scene. Whatever her thought process had been, she had kept it pretty much to herself. Some things didn’t change, it seemed, although Crichton was half grateful that she had not chosen to argue the matter with him. He had no wish to fall out with her, regardless of her sometimes prickly personality. Time had taught him the many advantages of remaining on her good side.
The day had passed almost without incident. Crichton had indulged himself by pandering to his inner teenager as he reflected on how he was now cut off from Earth. He had moped around a bit and had spent an inordinate amount of time on the terrace, staring out into space. And then, as ship’s evening had drawn on, Moya had began to slowly move away from the wormhole field. They had been travelling for about half an arn and Aeryn had finally persuaded him to join her, their son D’Argo and their friend, Chiana for third meal when things took an unexpected turn.
“Captain!” Pilot announced, the giant, lobster-like creature’s image springing from the central chamber’s clamshell projector.
“Yes, Pilot?” Aeryn replied, continuing to feed Deke. She had inherited the position of Moya’s captain after the death of Ka D’Argo, the former incumbent, during the Peacekeeper-Scarran war. It wasn’t a position she had sought, but the only other serious candidate for the job amongst Moya’s tiny crew was her husband. All agreed that her calm demeanour and superior knowledge of life at this end of the wormhole made her the stronger candidate. It did not hurt that she and Pilot shared such a uniquely close bond. Also, seeing as John had spent several days unconscious after Ka D’Argo’s death, she had had to assume the role and had been established as acting-captain when the vote was taken.
“Moya has detected a Scarran ship, heading into the wormhole field at high speed.” Pilot explained.
“What sort of ship?” John demanded, instantly on his feet, a bundle of nervous energy. The Scarrans remained a belligerent force, despite the peace treaty and no one on board was likely to forget how they had once kidnapped and tortured Aeryn or how they had killed Ka D’Argo. Aeryn laid a hand on his arm, calming him slightly simply through her touch.
“If we had to hazard a guess, Moya and I would speculate that it is a modified Stryker.” Pilot continued steadily, well used to the way things worked between John and Aeryn.
“What would the Scarrans be doing out here?” Chiana asked, more to herself than anyone present. She wasn’t expecting anyone present on Moya to know the answer. After all, few learned anything of the Scarrans’ plans and lived long enough to report them to anyone else.
“Wormholes,” Crichton growled under his breath, with the unfocussed stare of a man lost in his darkest thoughts.
“Hold our current position,” Aeryn ordered Pilot as she squeezed John’s arm, pulling his attention back to her with a start. She flashed a reassuring smile at him. Although she was curious as to what the Scarrans were up to, she had no desire to get any closer to them. Moya was, after all, unarmed. Their only defence was to have sufficient warning to starburst away from any hostile craft.
John blinked twice, his eyes looking onto Aeryn’s. “S’Okay,” he reassured her with a grin and a shrug. She nodded back and stood. It was time for action.
“Chi, can you look after Deke for us please?” Aeryn asked, already moving to hand the child over to her friend. “Command.” She stated simply, turning back to John, who nodded his agreement and turned to leave, heading for the Command deck.
‘~’
Tense microts ticked by on Moya’s Command as John, Aeryn, Pilot and Moya juggled to keep track of the Scarran ship whilst remaining unnoticed or ignored themselves. John paced nervously to and fro, his attention focussed on the empty void visible through the main viewport. Aeryn stood rigidly behind the main console, her attention divided between the readouts, the viewing portal and her emotionally fragile husband. If the Scarrans started paying them any attention then they would have to starburst away. Which would probably mean overruling John’s wishes and a subsequent argument. She sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but she was captain now – they couldn’t risk a confrontation with a Stryker. Not out here, so far from any assistance their allies or the Scarrans’ enemies might be able to offer.
“Captain, Commander, Moya and I are detecting fluctuations in space time…. A pressure bubble is form…..”
Pilot fell silent as a wormhole blossomed into life maybe 50 metras away. It was difficult to tell by eye alone, with nothing to give it a sense of scale.
“The Scarran ship is moving towards the wormhole,” Pilot narrated. It would have been impossible to tell otherwise – the size of and distance to the anomaly were so great that nothing of the ship could be seen even by Aeryn’s superior eyes. “It’s gone in….. it’s… it’s gone!” Pilot continued, displaying a rare case, for him, of being almost lost for words.
An uneasy silence fell. Finally John turned to Aeryn. She smiled in what she hoped was a supportive, encouraging way. She suspected she failed miserably in her enterprise. She still found it hard to get what John would call ‘a handle’ on that sort of emotional dren. John took a deep breath.
“Scarrans and wormholes….” John stated. For once he too seemed lost for something to say.
“Not good.” Aeryn shook her head. More words seemed superfluous.
“Agreed.” John stated. She was grateful he felt the same way. They stared hard into each other’s eyes, each seeing a reflection of their own thoughts and fears in the other’s countenance. Scarrans, for both of them, had long standing and unpleasant associations with wormholes – hunting John for them, torturing Aeryn for them, trying to use them to enslave Earth and, of course, the terrible events at Quajaga. “We need to find out what they are up to.”
“Pilot,” Aeryn took a deep breath, hating herself for what she was about to ask, but knowing that it had to be and that it would be best coming from her rather than John. “We need to ask rather a large favour of you and Moya…..”
‘~’
“Engaging standard orbit,” Chief Petty Officer Miles O’Brien informed the bridge crew of the Defiant. His fingers danced across the controls as he brought them to a relative halt, 5000 kilometres from the planetoid mentioned on Dr Bashir’s – or was it Garak’s? - encrypted data chip. The helm was, by rights, Lt Commander Dax’s job, but she was busy in conference with the Captain, and so the job had fallen to O’Brien. Bearing in mind the delicacy of the mission, Captain Sisko had authorised use of the cloak, rendering the Defiant invisible. It was just as well that they had come in using the cloak considering the other vessels which were already in orbit around the planetoid when they had arrived.
En route Lieutenant Commander Eddington had informed the crew that the place had been the site of three small Maquis settlements, home to a mere 250 souls. What intelligence they had from the datachip indicated that, although the planetoid was still habitable, the Maquis were long gone, their presence likely ‘cleansed’ by the Cardassians and their allies.
O’Brien trimmed their position slightly, ensuring that they were in a stable and safe orbit. There was no sign that anyone had detected the Defiant’s arrival. However there was a small asteroid field a further 5000 kilometres out from the Defiant’s current position. Stray debris from the field had ensured that the planetoid had never been an ideal colonisation prospect but together the orbiting rocks provided some practical shelter from prying eyes.
“A good pilot could easily hide a ship in there,” Kira remarked apropos the asteroids. “Could even use the drifters as cover to approach the planet.”
Sisko grunted acknowledgement and shifted uncomfortably in the Captain’s chair. Even with the cloak engaged, he felt uneasy. They were deep inside hostile Cardassian territory with no back-up worth speaking of within a week of their position. In addition he was concerned by the ships which they had already detected in orbit barely 100 km above the planet. One was Cardassian, and one was of Dominion origin, but there was also a third ship. It was of an unknown design but large and shaped like some sort of dead spider. It kept close company with the two other hostile craft. That, presumably, was a Scarran ship- the name mentioned on Garak’s data chip. From this distance the unknown vessel looked impressive enough, although how capable and dangerous it was was all but impossible for the Defiant to tell without compromising their concealment.
“Suggestions? Anyone?” Sisko enquired, casting encouraging glances around the bridge. O’Brien avoided his eye. Major Kira frowned, broadcasting her frustration at not having an answer. Dax smirked nonchalantly and Eddington scowled from his console. “OK,” Sisko sighed, “Then perhaps we should…”
“Commander, there’s a small craft heading away from the planet at high velocity…. “ O’Brien exclaimed.
“Heading in this direction!” Eddington added and clarified in a low rumble.
“Being followed by one… two Jem’Hadar vessels….” Kira Nerys added.
“They…. The Jem’Hadar… are firing… On the smaller vessel!” Eddington supplied. “We ought to…”
“Can they tell if we’re here?” Sisko gripped the armrest of his seat. If these ships could somehow tell that the Defiant was there, despite her cloak, then they could be in real difficulty.
“They’re all heading towards the asteroid field, not us,” Kira continued as first the smaller craft then the larger sped by, mere kilometres from the Defiant’s position. “All three craft.” Sisko zoomed in on the image of the smaller ship as it passed. It was shaped like a small dart which combined with its black and red markings suggested ‘single seat military craft.’ Disturbingly, it was of a design completely unknown to him. Not Federation, Cardassian, Dominion or even Maquis. And not, by Sisko’s estimation, from the same design school as the other largely unknown and presumably Scarran craft, either.
“The enemy of my enemy…” Eddington remarked.
“Is oft times a trap,” Dax winked at him. He harrumphed in reply.
“Follow them into the field,” Sisko ordered. “But stay cloaked.”
Dax had already slipped into the pilot’s seat, relieving O’Brien at the helm. She quickly settled and confidently took them in, the dense field soon obscuring their view first of the alien vessels and then, after 20 seconds or so, even of the planetoid they were orbiting. Lightning-like flashes ahead of them lit up the field, the light showing it to comprise debris ranging in size from dust to rocks ten times the size of the Defiant.
A sudden orange flash, much bigger than all of the rest and clearly an explosion, flickered ahead of them for several seconds.
“Looks like the Jem’Hadar got their target…” Sisko muttered. It was a shame – he would have dearly liked to have talked to the occupant of the small, unknown craft they had been chasing – the pilot surely must have had useful intelligence regarding what was going on at the planetoid.
“No!” Major Nerys shook her head, not taking her eyes from the tactical display. “It was one of the Jem….” A second explosion, this one about 15 km off their port keel, momentarily lit up the field once again. “And that makes two.” By the time she finished speaking the bloom of both of the explosions had already faded.
Sisko arched an eyebrow. He was impressed, and, as realisation dawned, a little worried. It was fair to assume that the small, unidentified craft had led its two pursuers into the field, but then what? Where they following an exceptionally dangerous single craft or did the field hide a multitude of the stranger’s armed allies?
“Dead stop! All points scan!” Sisko ordered, his bridge crew springing into action, no doubt having made the same connections he had made.
“Benjamin, there’s something four clicks ahead!” Dax announced, wide eyes darting between the helm console, Sisko and the main viewscreen. She zoomed in and ahead of them one of the larger asteroids hove into clearer view.
“That’s no asteroid…..” Kira breathed, looking up from the tactical display to stare at the main screen. It was unmistakably a ship, long and graceful, bulbous at one end with three thin ‘tails’ at the other. It’s clean, flowing lines looked almost organic.
“That’s big,” Captain Sisko nodded to himself at the rightness of his words. The readout suggested it was maybe 1500 meters long – twice the size of a Galaxy class starship, and over a dozen times the size of the Defiant! He couldn’t conceive that a ship that size would not possess similarly scaled armament – had they destroyed the Jem’Hadar? If so, the defiant was likely in real danger. “That’s really big!” he gulped.