CHAPTER

1

 

SUNK DEEP IN A GIANT PIT was an Ambassador-class starship, looking as if it was about to be swallowed whole. An intricate network of walkways and turbolifts spanned its gleaming hull, and workers swarmed over the helpless ship like hungry ants. The scene reminded Benjamin Sisko of the Lilliputians who tied down Gulliver and crawled all over him. But even if the shackles were removed, this sleeping giant was not about to rise, not for another few days. It was missing the most crucial element of its being, the thing that would give it life and send it streaking across the galaxy, the most dangerous substance ever discovered: antimatter.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” said Kira Nerys beside him. “It’s so thrilling to see the Okana Shipyards open again. You don’t know it, Commander, but this shipyard has seen centuries of history. Songs have been written about it, and plays. We’re very proud of it.”

“Impressive,” answered Sisko. He didn’t tell his Bajoran first officer what he was really thinking, that the shipyard was crude by Federation standards. It had been centuries since Terrans had built starships under normal planetary gravity—they much preferred moon-based or orbital shipyards with little or no gravity. Of course, the Bajorans had once had a state-of-the-art orbital shipyard, but it had been utter-ly destroyed by the Cardassian invaders. With its ravished economy, Bajor could hardly afford to build a new orbital shipyard, so they had reopened the surface shipyard. They were happy just to be building a ship, even if it was under a Federation contract.

Sisko also didn’t mention that the design of the Ambassador, one of the workhorses of the fleet, was an old one. Its construction kinks had long been worked out. The saucer section was considerably smaller than that of a Galaxy-class vessel, such as the Enterprise, and its hull was cylindrical rather than squat. The twin nacelles were also directly behind the saucer section rather than under it. But the seven-hundred crew-member starship was an extremely economical vessel, and it could go farther and run longer than a Galaxy-class ship on the same amount of antimatter. It was a perfect choice for its missionma long-range exploration of the Gamma Quadrant, on the other side of the wormhole.

Most important, Sisko knew that this was the first starship to be built on Bajor since the Cardassian invasion over fifty years ago, and he was determined to help them succeed. In one respect, he agreed with Major Kira. The Okana Shipyards were a magnificent sight—six monstrous pits spread across the vast Okana Desert, each one crisscrossed by six gigantic arches that curved to an apex almost a kilometer above the ground.

He was standing on one of those archways now, and the view it afforded was incredible, despite the intense heat that made his neck crawl with sweat. He knew that soon—after the antimatter arrived and was installed in the reactor—tractor beams along the arches would be activated, and the giant starship would rise out of the pit half a kilometer above the ground. The ship’s inertial damping and structural integrity fields would have to be adjusted to compensate for Bajor’s gravity, but they would be returned to normal once in space. The launch was an event he didn’t want to miss. Until then, he could enjoy the endless horizon and a respite from the rigors of commanding Deep Space Nine.

“You’re smiling,” observed Kira. “May I ask what you find so humorous?”

“I’m just enjoying myself,” Sisko admitted. “It’s so peaceful out here—like being at the ends of the Earth. Or in this case, at the ends of Bajor.”

“I knew you would enjoy it,” said Kira with pleasure. “I came here once as a child, and I’ve never forgotten it.”

“Best of all,” said the commander, “I’m pleased that everything is going so well. Right on schedule. Maybe a little bit later we can go down and take a closer look at the Hannibal.”

Kira wrinkled the ridges on her nose and muttered something under her breath. “Did you say something, Major?” “It’s that name. What does it mean?” “Hannibal?” asked Sisko. “Why, he was a great African general. He did incredible things, like leading an army of elephants over the Alps to attack Rome. It’s also a town in Missouri.” Kira nodded glumly. “Terran history.” The commander smiled. “So what would you name it?”

The Bajoran tightened her jaw. “I can think of several worthy names. Okana would be nice, in honor of the shipyards that built her. Or Kai Opaka, in honor of her memory and her sacrifice.”

Sisko touched Kira’s shoulder for a moment. “Don’t worry, Major, the time is coming when Bajor will build her own ships again. First, you must build up your economy and feed your people. This is a big step in that direction.”

“I-know,” said Kira, leaning on the railing. “Patience has never been one of my virtues.” After a moment’s reflection, she stood erect and managed a smile. “I‘11 contact Director Amkot and see if he can arrange a tour of the Hannibal for us.”

But before she could tap her communicator badge, an explosion rent the desert air and rocked the walkway beneath their feet. Kira was thrown against the railing, and only her strength and quick reflexes kept her from plunging into the abyss a kilometer below them. Sisko staggered toward her and gripped her tunic, pulling her to the metal walkway just as another explosion jarred the structure. With an awful groan, the archway tilted, and they began to slide across the slick metal into the empty air beyond.

Kira rolled to her back and slapped her comm badge. “Emergency!” she yelled. “Two to beam off arch three! Immediately!”

Sisko’s Starfleet comm badge wasn’t patched into the Bajoran system, so he could do nothing but hang on to Kira and try to place his feet against the railing supports. He managed to brace one foot, but their precipitous slide continued. With the crook of her arm, Kira grabbed the handrail as her legs swung off, and she dangled in midair, groaning from the exertion required to hold on. Sisko let go of her but not soon enough, because her momentum pulled his foot off the support and started a headlong slide into oblivion. He grasped at the railing as it passed over his head, and his arms were still flailing as he sailed into the air…

And materialized in a crowded storage room, stretched out on a transporter pad. Kira stood beside h!m, her arms still twisted around a railing that was no longer there. She let out loud gasp and sank to the platform, and Sisko gripped his chest. He felt as if his heart would pound straight out through his rib cage.

A young Bajoran transporter operator stared at them from behind his console. “I… I got everybody, didn’t I?”

“You did fine, son,” breathed Sisko.

Kira scrambled to her feet and bounded off the platform. “What by the holy orbs happened?”

“I don’t know,” the Bajoran answered. “We don’t keep any explosives near the arches. One of the pylons just blew up!”

Kira slapped her comm badge again while Sisko rose slowly to his feet. Maybe he wouldn’t come back here to witness the Hannibal being launched, he decided. He could monitor it just fine from the space station.

“Major Kira to Director Amkot,” she barked. “Director, I need to speak with you. Now.”

“Major Kira!” came an excited male voice. “Are you all right?”

“We should be dead, but your transporter is at least working. What happened to that arch?”

There was a pause before Amkot responded, “We won’t know until we conduct an investigation.”

“You can’t even make a guess?” asked Kira incredulously.

“If I had to make a guess,” said the hoarse voice, “it would be sabotage. Our security around the ship has been tight, very tight, but perhaps it wasn’t tight enough aboveground. Offhand, the only thing I could imagine that would cause those explosions would be timed charges planted inside the pylon. We are re-viewing maintenance records to see who had access to it.”

Kira glanced at her commander to see if he wanted to interject anything, and he nodded. “This is Commander Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine,” his voice thundered. “I think we should meet to discuss this.”

“Of course, Commander!” came the reply. “I want to assure you that this incident had nothing to do with your presence here, nothing! Arch number three is the center arch, so it was the most obvious target. The charges could have been set days ago, or weeks ago. You know, there is considerable opposition to us building a starship for the Federation, instead of Bajor.”

“Will you be able to repair it in time for the launch?” asked Sisko.

“Yes, Commander. It will take some doing, but we can move a center arch from one of the other bays. They’re not in use. If you would like to discuss this further, I am headed to my office now.”

“We will meet you there,” Sisko concluded. He nodded to his first officer. “Kira out,” she replied through clenched teeth. Commander Sisko just looked away, deeply sad-dened by Director Amkot’s explanation. The planet of Bajor could be a paradise, as it once was, but sabotage and terrorism had become a way of life for too many Bajorans. If only they could stop this insanity! Until they did, the Bajorans were every bit as dangerous and unpredictable as the antimatter that was headed their way.

 

In his spartan, windowless office on Deep Space Nine, Security Chief Odo continued to page through various Starfleet reports and documents concerning the shipment and handling of antimatter. For two days, he had been boning up on the subject in anticipation of the shipment that would arrive by convoy in about twenty-four hours. Having never served aboard a starship, the alien shapeshifter had little firsthand experience with matter/antimatter propulsion systems and antimatter storage pods. He knew only one thing for certain: the more he read about the stuff, the less he liked it.

In his analytical way, Odo summarized the most important points about antimatter on his computer screen. Thus far, everything he had learned was troubling. For the hundredth time, he turned to his screen and studied his notes:

1. Antimatter is the most dangerous substance

ever discovered. When it comes into contact

with matter, both are annihilated in a devastating explosion. 2. Under controlled circumstances, this power is

used to drive a starship, but a warp-core

meltdown can result in total destruction. 3. When not in use, antimatter must be stored in a

special pod that contains the substance within

magnetic fields. If the pod is breached or

ruptured, the result is total destruction. 4. The danger to a starship is so great that the

warp core and antimatter pods are designed to

be ejected in an emergency. 5. Antimatter cannot be transported, except in

minute quantities. Antimatter storage pods

must be shipped and handled manually. 6. Antimatter cannot be replicated. It is generated

in a handful of major Starfleet refueling facilities, all of them deep in Federation space. 7. The expected shipment, 2,000 cubic meters of

antimatter in 20 storage pods, is enough to

power a starship for two years. 8. Starfleet only ships antimatter in special tanker

craft that are protected by a minimum of two

Starfleet cruisers. 9. Antimatter is one of the rarest and most valuable commodities in the galaxy.

 

Odo couldn’t bear to read any more. He shut off his screen, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the wall. Despite the lack of features in his oddly unformed face, no one could have mistaken the look of concern in his tightened jaw and pinpoint eyes. After the arrival of the tanker and her escorts, Deep Space Nine was to be the waystation for twenty antimatter storage pods, until the Bajorans sent enough shuttlecraft to take them to the shipyard on the planet. Between the arrival of the convoy and the departure of the last storage pod, he didn’t want to think about all the terrible things that could happen.

His door chimed cheerfully, and he scowled. “En-ter.”

The door whooshed open, and the cherubic face of Miles O’Brien peered around the corner. “You wanted to see me, Constable?”

Odo’s scowl deepened. He despised that obnoxious nickname pinned on him by Commander Sisko, but he would let it pass today. He had more important worries. “Yes, Chief. Thank you for coming.”

O’Brien strode into the room and stood at easy attention. After a moment, he said with concern, “Are you all right?”

“I am most certainly not all right,” snapped Odo. “How would you feel if you were in charge of the safekeeping of twenty containers of antimatter?”

“Oh, that,” scoffed the chiefi “We had thirty storage pods aboard the Enterprise. Never gave us a lick of trouble.” He frowned in remembrance. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say ‘never.’ Antimatter is always tricky stuff.”

“Just how volatile is it?”

O’Brien chuckled. “How volatile is it? Well, let’s put it this way—a fistful of antimatter would be enough to destroy half this station.”

When he saw that his answer didn’t do much to lighten Odo’s mood, O’Brien added, “But it’s perfectly safe, if it’s contained. We have ships docking here all the time that have antimatter on board.”

“But we’ve never had any on board the station,” Odo countered. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable to be exhibiting so much fear. “I’ve been reading everything I can find about it, and I don’t like what I’m finding out. Do you have any recommendations?”

The chief of operations considered the question for a moment before replying, “Only one thing. There’s quite a black market in the stuff, because almost every ship with a warp drive needs it. And the storage pods are self-contained—you could take one and leave the rest alone. I’d be more concerned about thievery than an accident.”

“Thievery,” Odo repeated thoughtfully. He stood with determination. “Chief, may I buy you a drink down at Quark’s establishment?”

 

Despite the fact that Director Amkot said he was headed straight for his office, Commander Sisko and Major Kira sat impatiently in uncomfortable chrome furniture for almost half an hour. For the dozenth time, Sisko surveyed the room. Like most things Bajoran, the furnishings were stylish, even if some of them had seen better days. A double-paned window looked out upon a pair of robotic arc welders, which now sat quietly, their job over. Behind them, one of the gleaming nacelles of the Hannibal was visible, looking like a sleek silver fish. Natural light from above filtered into the immense pit, adding to the underwater illusion.

Amkot’s desk looked like a slab of black epoxy, although it was chipped and scratched in various places, as if it had spent several years in careless storage. His chair looked considerably more comfortable than the one Sisko was sitting in. At least it had padding. A huge diagram of the Hannibal covered one entire wall, and behind the desk were a number of diplomas and citations, all etched on brightly colored slabs. There were blank spaces on the walls, too, where citations had apparently been removed.

More for the sake of conversation than from overwhelming curiosity, Sisko asked, “What do you suppose went in those blank spaces on the wall?”

Kira stiflened in her seat. “Commendations, I suppose—from the Cardassians. It’s well known that Amkot Groell was a collaborator. But he managed to keep this facility open, even if they didn’t build any ships. He maintained the equipment, waiting for this day. We all had to do unpleasant things, Amkot more than most. He is still resented for it in some quarters.”

“How does the provisional government feel about him?”

Kira smiled grimly. “That depends on how the Federation feels about their new starship. If it brings more business to the shipyards, he’ll be a hero. If it’s a failure—” She didn’t have to finish the sentence.

The door opened abruptly, and both Kira and Sisko stood, relieved to finally see somebody. Amkot Groell was a small man, with disheveled white hair that made him look like a mad professor. He was followed into the room by a distinguished older woman wearing a finely tailored suit. The ridges on the bridge of her nose looked like manicured hedges, and she wore a jewel that dwarfed one entire ear.

“Please excuse me, please!” begged the director. “Just as I was coming here, I heard that Minister Roser was en route. Naturally, I had to meet her. Excuse me again—I am Director Amkot Groell, and this is Roser Issa, Minister of Public Works.”

Sisko nodded. “Commander Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine. This is my first officer, Major Kira Nerys.”

“Of course, of course,” stuttered the little man. “How are you, Major? It’s a pleasure to see you again. The major was a student when she first came here on a field trip, but that was many years ago. How do you like seeing the yard in operation?”

“I thought it was wonderful,” replied Kira, “until it nearly killed me.”

“Most regrettable.” Amkot shook his head with genuine sorrow. “We have doubled security, I can assure you. In some respects, it’s amazing we haven’t had more incidents.”

“That’s nonsense,” claimed Minister Roser. “How could we possibly know that anyone would want to sabotage the shipyards? Frankly, I am stunned.”

Director Amkot looked like he wanted to correct the minister, but he screwed his mouth shut. She must have control of the purse strings, thought Sisko. His first officer, however, felt no such restraint.

“Aren’t you being a bit disingenuous, Minister?” asked Kira. “I can think of a dozen factions who oppose building this ship, from pacifists to national-ists, with every terrorist organization in between. And what about the Cardassians? They’re hoping that if they bide their time, the Federation will get sick of supporting us and just go away.”

Minister Roser gave her a tight smile. “Of course, Major, you would know about terrorist organiza-tions.”

From the way that Kira bounced on her feet and balled her hands into fists, Sisko could tell that she was about to explode, and he quickly interjected, “As a representative of the client, let me say that I’m very pleased with the progress you’ve made. Frankly, I didn’t think you would finish the Hannibal on schedule, but you have. Now that we’re so close to completion, let’s not spoil it. We all want the same thing, don’t we?”

“Yes! Yes, we do,” agreed Amkot. “Thanks to the Federation, we have the raw materials we need, and the work. That’s what we need the most—work.”

Minister Roser added, “We could also use a fusion device and positron beam accelerator to generate our own antimatter.”

“Let’s not push things,” answered Sisko. “That would be a very tempting target, and Starfleet is too far away to protect it. We’ll get you all the antimatter you need—to power whatever you build.”

Kira seized upon that small opening. “Commander, does that mean we could build our own starships?”

Sisko smiled. “We have a saying: ‘All things come to those who wait.’ Now, let’s get to practical matters. What kind of explosive was it? Can we catch whoever did it?”

Amkot sighed and shook his head. “There isn’t much left, but we found traces of sarium krellide, which is a common detonator and casing material.”

“I‘11 send down a forensic team from the station,” promised Sisko. “Perhaps they can help.”

Amkot clapped his hands together and tried to appear cheerful. “Commander, may I take you on a tour of the Hannibal?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have time now. We have our own preparations to make. In addition to the antimatter, the convoy is bringing the crew for the Hannibal’s test flights. I may assign some of my own people to go along.”

“Can I volunteer?” asked Kira.

“We’ll see.” Sisko managed a smile before he tapped his comm badge. “Sisko to Hage. We are ready to beam back to the runabout.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply. “Locking on to you and Major Kira.”

“Energize when ready.”

They barely had time to nod their gOOd-byes before the transporter beams scrambled their molecules and whisked them away in a blaze of colored lights.

By the time Sisko and Kira stepped from the small transporter platform into the cramped cockpit of the Mekong, the smile had vanished from the commander’s face. It was replaced by a concerned frown, matched by that of Major Kira.

“They don’t seem to realize the danger they’re in,” said the Bajoran.

“No,” answered Sisko, “and I’m not sure we do either.” He wondered if it was really a coincidence that the arch was sabotaged just as they were standing on it. He didn’t like the fact that a relatively commonplace operation—the transfer of antimatter to a new ship—should be a flashpoint for bitter hatreds. Most of all, he didn’t like his lack of control over the Bajoran side of the operation. “Shall I take us out of orbit?” asked Ensign Hage. Sisko was stirred out of his troubled thoughts. “Let me take the controls,” he answered, slipping into the conn seat. “I want to see if I can get us back in under two hours.”

 

En route to Quark’s Place on the bustling Promenade, Chief O’Brien heard his communicator beep, and he stopped midstride to answer it. Odo waited patiently beside him.

“Chief,” said a concerned voice, “the level-three diagnostic you ordered on cargo bay one has picked up a few anomolies. They’re probably just bad seals or worn sensor arrays, but I thought you might want to take a look.”

“I’ll be right there,” muttered O’Brien. “Out.” He turned to Odo and muttered, “Bloody Cardassians never replaced a seal in their lives. I’d better go check this, Odo. That’s the cargo bay where we’re storing the antimatter pods.”

“Then by all means, don’t let me detain you,” said the morph. “I am quite capable of questioning Quark by myself.”

O’Brien smiled. “Yeah, but I don’t know when you’ll offer to buy me a drink again.”

“Probably never,” Odo answered honestly.

“Maybe you could give me a rain check.”

Odo tilted his head puzzledly. “Why would I check for rain in a space station?”

“Never mind,” muttered O’Brien, starting off. “I’ll make that cargo bay the safest place on the station.”

Odo offered him a slight smile. “If you do, I will buy you that drink.”

After O’Brien strode off in the opposite direction, Odo put his hands behind his back and continued his stroll down the Promenade. He passed a combination grooming/tattoo salon, a gift shop specializing in holographic wormhole ornaments, and a restaurant that featured live food. All of the establishments were crowded. Publicly, Odo often complained about the rowdy lot who passed through the station, but privately he preferred to see it bustling and busy than deserted and comatose. He liked the stimulus of so many visitors, even if each one presented a unique security risk.

He could spot the tourists—the ones who had come simply to see the only stable wormhole in existence. And he could spot the adventurers—the ones who were not content just to see it but had to pass through to the little-explored Gamma Quadrant on the other side. It was the others who concerned him—the ones who came to this far-flung corner of the galaxy for personal gain. Some were attracted by the lawless elements of Bajor, a chaotic planet struggling to rebuild itself while coping with the windfall generated by the wormhole. Some came for honest commerce, hoping to discover new products, services, and customers in the Gamma Quadrant. Others came to steal, pure and simple, to take what wasn’t theirs and make it their own. He couldn’t tell who those people were by sight, but he knew one thing about them:

Sooner or later, they would congregate at Quark’s Place.

Odo rounded the doorway into the gaudy, neon-lit den of debauchery and heard the usual whoops and hollers from the gaming tables. He smelled the noxious intermingling of odors from a dozen alien foods, none of which were ever meant to be eaten in the same room together. He heard the clinking of glasses containing substances that were, to him, incomprehensible in their appeal. And he saw the Ferengi servers hurrying about—big-eared snaggletoothed scavengers —grubbing money from every possible source. Most incomprehensible of all was the steady flow of customers marching up and down the staircase, plunking down hard-earned cash to indulge sexual fantasies in the holosuites overhead.

Odo sighed, noticing that his presence did nothing to curb any of this obnoxious behavior. The security chief wouldn’t care to admit it, but he probably spent more time in Quark’s Place than anyone, except the employees and a chubby alien named Morn. His presence had long since failed to raise any eyebrow ridges.

He strolled over to the bar, where the proprietor, Quark, was going over inventory on a computer padd. Odo leaned on the bar and asked without enthusiasm, “How’s business, Quark?”

The Ferengi frowned. “Pretty good, until you came in.”

“Would that was so,” muttered Odo. He glanced around the saloon and said matter-of-factly, “How many people here have private starships?”

Quark laughed and replied, “Almost all of them. We can’t all be privileged enough to belong to the Federation or the Klingon Empire.”

Odo nodded. “How many of those starships are powered by matter/antimatter reactors?”

Now Quark set down his padd, leaned across the bar, and lowered his voice to say, “What are you getting at, Odo?”

“How much is antimatter worth?”

Quark smiled. “Why, have you got some?”

The shapeshifter grimaced in disgust. “No, but the station is getting some. Twenty storage pods of antimatter. But of course, you knew that.”

Quark picked up his padd. “Well, it’s not a secret. At least, not much of one. If some of that shipment were to be, shall we say, diverted—I’m sure a considerable profit could be turned. We’re in an excellent position to sell antimatter, because any ship would want to be well stocked before they enter the wormhole and begin a long journey in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“How much profit? Give me an estimate.”

Quark smiled with the pleasure of estimating the profit on an illegal deal. “It’s a substance that cannot be replicated or easily manufactured. Of course, storage is a problem. I could probably get seven bars of gold-pressed latinum for an empty storage pod. A full one would net sixty, if the bidding were spirited.”

Odo stood erect. That was more than he had estimated—considerably more. He looked around the room. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if somebody were planning to steal any of that shipment?”

“Steal it?” scoffed Quark. “From a Starfleet convoy guarded by a couple of cruisers? Antimatter is valuable, but it’s not worth getting killed over.” Odo lowered his voice. “What about stealing it from a cargo bay?”

“That would depend,” said Quark. “What cargo bay is it going to be in?”

Odo gave the Ferengi a sly smile. “You didn’t answer my question, so I’m not going to answer yours. I will just say one more thing: If I hear of any conspiracy to steal even a single pod of that antimatter, I will throw whoever is involved—and I mean whoever—off Deep Space Nine for good. Do I make myself understood?”

Quark laughed nervously. “Why tell me that? I’m a bartender, not an antimatter merchant. Now, you’re wasting my time, and I’ve got business to attend to.”

“By all means,” said Odo snidely, “don’t let me keep you from your business.” The shapeshifter strode quickly toward the door.

Odo had learned from long practice that it was wise not to hurry away from Quark’s establishment. To attract customers, there were several gaudy blinking signs in the windows of the place, and he had found that he could stop just outside one of them and peer in, with the bright lights affording him a bit of camouflage. From that vantage point, he often saw what Quark did immediately after one of his visits, and that knowledge was often very elucidatory.

He could see Quark summon his brother, Rom, to the bar and whisper something to him. Rom scurried off and returned a moment later with another Ferengi whom Odo didn’t know. The discussion between Quark and the strange Ferengi quickly turned into an argument, and the customer waved his hands and stalked off. Quark shook his head glumly, as if he had just lost money.

Odo walked away from the window, content that he had warned Quark off trying to pull anything with the antimatter shipment. But Quark was only one Ferengi, and there were scores of them infecting the station at the moment. For sixty bars oflatinum, most of them would do almost anything, including selling their naked mothers into slavery. Plus, there were all those other unsavory characters around.

The security chief would not rest comfortably in his pail until the last storage pod of antimatter was safely off DS9 and on its way to Bajor.