Star Trek:
The Next Generation™:
Slings and Arrows

Book 1: A Sea of Troubles by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

Book 2: The Oppressor’s Wrong by Phaedra M. Weldon

COMING SOON:

Book 3: The Insolence of Office by William Leisner

Book 4: That Sleep of Death by Terri Osborne

Book 5: A Weary Life by Robert Greenberger

Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment by Keith R.A. DeCandido

Pocket Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2007 by CBS Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5013-6
ISBN-10: 1-4165-5013-5

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This book is dedicated to my dad,
Leonard C. Weldon, Jr.,
and to his wife, Delois A. Weldon,
for giving me my first typewriter and
telling me to never stop dreaming

PROLOGUE

Deus ex Machina

He moved quickly to the back room of his quarters. With a glance to the door behind him as it shut, he bent on one knee and carefully reached beneath the bed, tugging at the small twelve-by-twelve silver case positioned just out of sight.

Once it was free from its hiding place, he sat on the edge of the bed, opened the case, and stared at the blank, black glossy surface of the upright side. With two touches to the horizontal black surface, he watched as the inner side illuminated his face as well as the room in a soft, turquoise light.

“Receiving,” came the voice from the silver box. There was no image to accompany it—even the voice that filtered through the small speakers was masked, coded, and dispersed.

He cleared his throat, aware that his own face was visible. “Tactical liaison nine-twenty-three reporting in.”

“Take that face off,” came the quick retort—his superior’s irritation still evident through the disruption.

And if he was irritated before the conversation even began, that could only mean things were not going as planned.

He did as he was told, the shimmer of his transformation reflected in the glossy black of the case’s interior. He faced the tiny camera naked now, without the protection of another’s identity.

“Better,” came the voice.

He nodded but already knew there was something else. “I gather from your request for contact that there could be a problem, sir?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” The reply was terse. “Things are progressing here as planned—even with the occasional setback that comes with the insurrection of terror.”

He took in a deep breath and waited for his orders. He had other duties to perform; appearances needed to be kept up lest his present mark notice any suspicious behavior.

“We’re going to need to step up the timetable as of today. I’m not sure about the exact time and date, but it will be soon. I’ll need you to double-check to make sure everything is ready.” The voice paused. “How is the admiral behaving? Does he suspect?”

It was time for honesty, no matter how painful. “I think he suspects something. Commander Snowden is doing all he can to soothe the admiral’s fears.” He looked away, hoping his superior couldn’t see his eyes, wouldn’t see the doubt lodged there.

“But the admiral isn’t buying it?”

He looked back to the camera eye. “No, sir.”

“Then I’m afraid he’ll have to be eliminated.”

He paused. “Killing was never part of this assignment.”

“Assignments change,” the voice said. “Just do what you’re best at. I’ll arrange for the proper follow-up—Snowden will be there when you need him.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded and reached out to disconnect.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

He stopped and looked at the pulsing glow. “Yes?”

“Make sure it looks authentic—I want nothing to go wrong. In fact—” There was a long pause, and he was afraid he’d lost connection. Then, “Use the Enterprise. I’ve made arrangements for her to be docking there in a few days—hopefully to stay for a while. I’d rather have Picard out of the way just now, and preoccupied.”

“Sir—I should use the Enterprise? A starship?”

“You heard me. Is there a problem? Are you not capable of handling a starship?”

He looked down at his hands. Hands he didn’t recognize. “Yes,” he said with conviction. “I can handle a starship.”

“Good. Keep me informed. Out.”

The glow eased back. The glossy black pane returned.

He closed the case and sat alone in his quarters. He didn’t need to confirm or guess at what his superior wanted.

There was no question the death his superior wanted would be the most dramatic. But to involve a starship, and not just any ship within the Federation fleet.

The flagship.

A new Sovereign-class ship, equipped with the latest technology.

He gave a deep sigh, seeing now an even greater problem. With his eyes closed, he returned his face to what was most familiar before stowing the case and leaving his quarters, unaware that his plans, as well as those of his superior’s, were about to fall apart.

CHAPTER
1

To Take Arms

Humans, Bolians, Tellarites, Trills, Vulcans, and Romulans moved about the crowded room, laughing, talking—many in deep conversation—on this day on which the Federation hoped to begin talks of a working alliance with the Romulan Star Empire.

That is, until the conference center exploded, killing twenty-seven people.

He stood in the center, watching the silver carafe to his left. It was situated between a Romulan man and a human woman who talked with bright smiles and shaking hands, unaware they wouldn’t live another second. The trigger was set, the bomb initiated, the explosion little more than a white hot light—

—a white hot light—

—a white hot light—

“Computer,” said a tired voice in the brightness. “End program.”

The image dissolved around him, revealing the black walls, ceiling, and floor of a small, three-by-three holosuite located on the upper deck of Quark’s, on the Federation station Deep Space 9. Of the suites Quark owned, this one was supposed to be his best. Yet the simulation hiccupped in different places, repeatedly.

Lieutenant Pádraig Daniels ran his fingers through his thick, blond hair as he tried to stifle his outrage and frustration with the holosuite. He felt like screaming.

But Lieutenant Commander Var chim Travec spoke first. Daniels stood back and sighed, wishing for the hundredth time that the admiral hadn’t sent the Tellarite along with Mr. t’Saiga and him. It was bad enough that the piglike Travec and the doglike t’Saiga could barely exchange three words without snarling at each other—hadn’t Leyton even bothered to read that Tellarites ate the canines on their world?

Daniels was there because he was Starfleet security and he had a working knowledge of explosives, but he had suspected more than once that his true purpose was to keep the other two from killing each other.

“Inexcusable,” boomed Travec. He stood with his stout chest thrust forward, his hooflike hands behind his back. “This is intolerable. How can Starfleet even allow this incompetent fool to run such shoddy equipment on board one of its stations?”

To his left stood two humans, a Bajoran, and a belligerent Ferengi.

“This obviously isn’t my fault,” Quark said as he glared at Travec. “This holosuite was working perfectly until Lieutenant Daniels and his dog-eared assistant commandeered its use for their”—he held up the index finger and middle finger of each hand to make quotations—“investigation.”

“Quark,” began Major Kira, in temporary command of DS9. The station’s commanding officer, Captain Benjamin Sisko, as well as the station’s head of security, Constable Odo, were on Earth while Sisko took over as acting head of Starfleet Security.

“Major, this suite was working perfectly the other week when Dr. Bashir and the chief used it.” He looked over at one of the humans. “Right, Chief?”

Chief Miles O’Brien, head of operations for Deep Space 9, crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it was a bit dodgy now and then. Julian and I nearly fell out of our planes—they were practically see-through.”

“That’s a lie.” Quark held up a finger at the chief.

“Incompetent,” Travec said again.

“Gentlemen,” Captain Jean-Luc Picard said in a stern but tolerant voice. “Please. I can understand Mr. Daniels’s frustration. I myself would like very much to see this simulation finished as well.”

“Well, Captain,” O’Brien said. “The truth is, Quark’s suites are in bad need of repair, but with the bombing on Earth, and our being on high alert, my people have been swamped with work.”

“There is nothing wrong with my suite.”

“It is inferior,” Travec said, and turned his back on Quark. “Captain Picard, I would like to formally request the use of one of the Enterprise holodecks so that my people can continue their work during the journey to Starbase 375.”

Daniels turned quickly around when Travec made the suggestion. He’d wanted to ask that very thing but wasn’t sure how to approach Captain Picard. After all, he was merely one of Starfleet’s few bomb experts on loan from the Department of Planetary Operations and not a member of the crew.

One of six security officers in the DPO, Daniels happened to be the only one with explosives training under his belt—something he’d picked up on his homeworld of the Canopus Planet. After his team identified the bomb’s initiator as the same substance found in the Changeling key discovered by Odo, Admiral Leyton had assigned all six of them to inspect several Starfleet installations to check for possible bombs.

He’d also assigned each of them an officer in charge to assure they received cooperation. And though sometimes Travec was helpful—as he was at this moment—Daniels still wanted to shoot him out an airlock.

Daniels and his assistant, t’Saiga, had already visited three facilities in a single week. Deep Space 9 was the fourth, with Starbase 375 to be the last before debriefing.

“Sir, it would be much appreciated.” Daniels glanced at O’Brien. “I do have my own equipment, as well as a series of protocols, and it wouldn’t interfere with the running of the ship.”

O’Brien spoke up. “Daniels’s application uses the sensor array—taking in data and crunching it into a viable resource to detect possible Dominion bombs.” He pursed his lips. “T’Saiga calls it his own difference engine—when it works. I’d be more than happy to install it, maybe even borrow a bit of that matrix in stellar cartography.”

Picard smiled at his former transporter chief. “I’m sure you would—and since Mr. La Forge has been a bit busy with the repair work after our altercation in the Pentara Nebula”—he took in a deep sigh—“then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind your heading up the project.”

“I’d love to, and I have a few engineers that need a little more to do.”

“I’ll inform Mr. La Forge that Lieutenant Daniels and Mister—” He frowned.

“T’Saiga,” Daniels said quickly, making sure to pronounce the “t” sound before “Sigh-gah.” “Though we mostly call him Sage. He’s Fijorian, working with Starfleet on a trial liaison basis.”

“Enlisted,” Travec said in a moderately low voice, and with the inflection of someone saying something they’d rather not.

“Mr. Travec.” Picard looked at the Tellarite. “I work with men and women every day who are good at their jobs, whether they are commissioned or not. And while you are aboard my ship, I expect you to treat them with the respect they are due. Is that clear?”

Daniels’s jaw dropped, and he wished Sage had been in the suite, just to see and hear Travec being dressed down.

The Tellarite opened his mouth, then closed it, his snout moving up and down. He nodded curtly to Picard. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” Picard looked back to O’Brien. “About how long will the installation take?”

“Oh, about a day.”

“A day?”

“Maybe two?”

Picard arched an eyebrow at the chief. “You have one day. I don’t want to delay our arrival at Starbase 375 any more then we have to.”

O’Brien smiled. “Aye, Captain. I’ll put two of my best engineers on it.”

“Riker to Picard.”

“Go ahead, Number One.”

“Priority-one subspace message.”

“I’ll be right there.” Picard and Major Kira turned to leave, but Quark blocked their way, his hands raised. “Now wait just a minute. Who’s going to fix my suite? I’ve got customers lined up to rent it.”

“Sorry, Quark,” O’Brien said. “Duty calls. I’ll get someone on it as soon as I can. Just put in a work request like everyone else.” He reached out and patted the Ferengi’s shoulder. “Maybe next year.”

Captain Jean-Luc Picard nodded at the image of Captain Benjamin Sisko peering at him from the monitor in his ready room on board the Enterprise-E. “It’s good to see you, Captain. Though I am curious to know why you covered your ID tag in the message.”

“Security purposes, more of the changes Admiral Leyton wanted to make.”

“I would ask you how things are going at Starfleet Headquarters since the Antwerp bombing, but your expression tells me not as well as I’d hoped. You’re worried.” It wasn’t a question.

Sisko nodded. “I am. Even with all of our increased security measures, there’s always this nagging fear in the back of my mind that it’s not enough. That the Changelings are just sitting out there—waiting—laughing at us.” He sighed and shook his head, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Though I’m not sure which I’m more worried about—the Changeling threat or my father. Jake and I have been here three weeks and we’ve only been to New Orleans once. I plan on beaming over there tomorrow morning for breakfast. If my father will have me.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand the new demands put on your time. But where has Jake been?”

“He’s visiting friends in Switzerland—checking out the school there.” Sisko smiled. “I’m not sure if he’s really interested or was afraid his grandpa would put him back in the kitchen chopping vegetables.”

Both captains shared a small, tense laugh. The conversation was awkward, to say the least. Leaving aside the current situation, Picard couldn’t forget that, as Locutus of Borg, he had, at the command of the Borg Collective, attacked thirty-nine ships at Wolf 359, a battle that claimed the life of Sisko’s wife, Jennifer, on board the U.S.S. Saratoga. When they first met aboard the Enterprise-D, Sisko had blamed Picard for that tragedy, and while the younger man had moved past that, the tragedy still hung between them.

Not that the current situation helped matters. Picard could sense the tension throughout the station, as well as on his ship. It would be some time before the crew recovered completely from its own Changeling infiltration.

But they had won that battle, only to be faced with the news that the Antwerp Conference—a diplomatic meeting between the Federation and the Romulan Empire—had been bombed by the Dominion. The catastrophe had prompted Admiral Leyton to name Captain Sisko acting head of Starfleet Security. Sisko and the admiral together had convinced President Jaresh-Inyo to agree to a systematic increase in Starfleet security measures. The phaser sweeps and mandatory blood screens of all Starfleet officers and their families, along with the required upgrade in weapons and sensors for priority starships, acted as a constant reminder that the Dominion had reached Earth.

“Did you read Daniels’s report?” Sisko finally asked.

“Yes, I did.” Picard narrowed his eyes. “And I am curious to know who it was that assigned Commander Travec to head up this team.”

“Leyton.” Sisko smiled. “I’m not sure he was aware of the animosity between Fijorians and Tellarites. And in the end it shouldn’t matter. Both of them are good at their jobs, as is Daniels.”

Picard glanced at a padd on his desk. “The trip to Starbase 375 should prove to be interesting. And as you already know, the station received a clean bill of health. There are no Dominion bombs—or at least, none of their components—on board Deep Space 9.” Picard picked up the padd. “Though Daniels did find trace elements of nitrilin. That’s a very rare and unstable substance.”

Sisko nodded, though his expression softened. “There was a small explosion in Garak’s shop last year—the bomber used nitrilin. I’m not thrilled to know it was one of the components used in Antwerp.”

“It appears Lieutenant Daniels’s forensic methods have proven accurate.” Picard set the padd back on his desk and adjusted his uniform jacket. It had been a long day—from the early morning docking to assigning the rotation of leave on board the station for their twenty-four-hour stay. He was ready for a bit of relaxation himself.

Assuming he could relax in the current climate. The bombing had everyone on edge—especially everyone on the station. Being so close to Dominion space was anything but relaxing. He looked at the padd again. “I saw some of what Daniels and t’Saiga put together in Quark’s holosuite. It was quite impressive.”

“I’m surprised Quark allowed that. When Starfleet takes up precious holosuite time, he loses money.”

“I’m afraid Major Kira and Commander Travec didn’t give him much choice. Unfortunately, so much processor power was needed to render the images that several of his holo-imagers were blown out. We lost one of the suites.”

Sisko smiled. “I wish I could have been there to see that.”

“In order to continue his work on the Enterprise, Chief O’Brien suggested integrating the application with the holodeck and the matrix in stellar cartography.”

“Impressive. How long will this delay your departure?”

“O’Brien estimated a day. He’s volunteered two of the Defiant engineers to help, and Mr. La Forge has brought in two of his people as well.”

“And if I know the chief, he’ll have it done in half that time. Very well, Captain. I’m sure the admiral would prefer that Travec’s team continue their analysis using the very best Starfleet can offer. I’m sure the chief is happy to get his hands on the new Enterprise.”

O’Brien had worked as the transporter chief aboard the Enterprise-D for six years before transferring to Deep Space 9. The E was a new design and a new passion.

Though Picard knew the chief would have to share that love with his conn officer, Lieutenant Sean Hawk, who had been with the E since the ship’s framing. Hawk knew it inside and out, and Picard hadn’t been surprised to hear a few rumors of the two knocking heads once or twice, arguing about the different classes of ships and their pros and cons. In fact, the young lieutenant had enjoyed a little browsing on board the Defiant since their arrival, impressed with the chief’s hull and shielding modifications, as explained to him by Defiant engineer Enrique Muñiz.

But what had grabbed the young lieutenant’s attention was the cloaking technology.

“How did the chief get past Mr. La Forge in overseeing that project?”

“Geordi’s supervising two teams that are fine-tuning the repairs we had done at Starbase 51.” Picard’s expression darkened, his thoughts returning to the events revolving around Lieutenant Addison and the Changeling that had killed her, as well as the crew of the U.S.S. Samson.

Sisko must have understood, because he didn’t ask about the repairs. “You’re in good hands with the chief.”

“Captain.” Picard took a deep breath. He’d wanted to ask the question ever since the conversation began. “Even if Travec’s team checks every installation Starfleet has, there’s no guarantee the Dominion will use the same tactics again, or the same bomb. Are we sure that shuttling these three around the Alpha Quadrant isn’t just for show?”

He could see the muscles working beneath Sisko’s dark skin, showing his strong jaw and even stronger resolve. “Of course it’s for show as much as it’s for security. I hate to admit it, but I’ve also asked the same question. The president feels the members of the Federation need to know we’re doing what we can to prevent another bombing anywhere in the quadrant—sending in specialists to check facilities is at least putting a face on Starfleet. The Dominion wanted us to know that they killed those twenty-seven people. I have a hunch they’ll stick to the same formula if given the same opportunity again.”

Picard heard it in Sisko’s voice: the slight catch of anger, the determination that nothing—neither the Dominion nor the Jem’Hadar—was going to get through on Sisko’s watch.

Sisko continued. “Starbase 375 is one of our most important facilities, Captain. Having the Federation flagship arrive with the bomb specialist team should help to ease any fears there.”

“That sounds like Leyton talking.”

A bright smile finally broke through Sisko’s dark expression. “It was.”

“Benteen to Sisko. We’re ready for the secondary systems check.”

Sisko tapped his combadge. “I’ll be right there.”

The interruption reminded Picard that Sisko had other duties to perform, other responsibilities. He only wished he could be there on Earth with him to lend a hand.

“Captain,” Sisko said, “duty calls. Let me know when you reach Starbase 375.”

“Of course.”

“Sisko out.”

The image changed immediately to the Federation emblem of blue with white stars. Picard sat back in his chair, his mind wandering in several different directions.

“What exactly is bothering you, Captain?”

Commander William Riker sat on the opposite side of Picard’s desk. He’d remained quiet, listening, as Picard had asked him to do. Now his curiosity and confusion were evident in his expression.

“I don’t know yet,” Picard said as he looked at his first officer. “I think it was that last statement about us transporting a specialist to the station. It does seem a trifle trumped up.”

Riker shook his head and shrugged. “Makes perfect sense to me. It doesn’t hurt to have a specialist look over each station and check for bombs. And seeing a face attached to the scrutiny humanizes it.”

“Oh, I’m in agreement with the political and bureaucratic end of things.” Picard sat forward and clasped his hands on his desk. “But what bothers me, Will, is that if Pádraig Daniels and the others are such important Starfleet bomb specialists, why is Leyton sending them away from Earth?”

Daniels filtered out most of the conversation bouncing off the walls in holodeck three on the Enterprise. His eighteen-month deployment at the Department of Planetary Operations in Lisboa had been a much quieter posting before the bombing. Until the hallways and conference rooms were filled to the brim with people, Daniels hadn’t really noticed how empty the job had been.

Given his talent for detail and background in explosives, the security officer was reassigned to Starfleet Security after taking a two-month leave to wed his fiancée of two years, Siobhan Bryn. They were married in a traditional Irish wedding in the Hanging Gardens of the Canopus Planet.

And all too soon he found himself living on Earth, blowing stuff up, analyzing and cataloging the latest and deadliest weapons found on different worlds, but never actually seeing those worlds.

Until now.

At first he’d been a little anxious about being chosen as part of the team to sift through, analyze, and identify the components used by the Dominion in Antwerp. The blast radius alone was the neatest he’d ever seen—not in terms of being impressive, but in terms of being clean.

Unobstructed.

Tidy.

Neat.

Only the conference area had been directly affected by the bomb. The rest was simply collateral damage, and even that had been minimal. Witnesses outside of ground zero had felt the explosion, but many had commented that the tremors were less than those they had felt on board a starship encountering turbulence.

The explosion was well timed, well planned, and well executed.

Daniels had been determined to reverse-engineer the process piece by piece. He and t’Saiga, one of Planetary Operations’ best engineers, had actually found the catalyst. The next step was to identify the components.

Tall order, but Daniels and his team of Sage; G’sive Dee, a Bolian tactical specialist; Murial Paquinn, one of Starfleet’s top sensor array linguists from the Daystrom Institute; Sahvisha, a Vulcan chemist; and Dr. Torsten Uzzle, the leader of the project, all working together had identified eight of the twelve components within the bomb, and had tagged the origins of three of those components and the races who mined and sold them.

All within the Gamma Quadrant.

Of course, the human or alien knowledge to link the components together for bomb possibilities still had to be there. It was easy to tell a sensor to sweep for certain pieces of ore or chemical, but that was as far as a computer could go. Daniels, Sage, G’sive, Paquinn, Uzzle, and Sahvisha had to actually analyze the data.

Their intention had been to write a program to do just that, until the orders came down for Daniels and Sage to visit and scan every key Federation installation personally and check for Dominion bombs, while the rest of the team would be assigned to other ships.

The decision seemed completely wrong to Daniels. Why break up the group when they had been so successful together? But within a day he and Sage were assigned to Travec, and on their way to their first Federation installation, and within the first hour after that, Sage and Travec were at each other’s throats.

Siobhan had been surprised at his assignment, and of course a little disappointed because it meant a longer delay before he could take leave again, but she’d been proud of him. Of all the people he knew, she understood his longing to finally be out in the universe.

Though he still wasn’t sure this was exactly what he had in mind.

And so here he was, on board the Enterprise, hoping to continue his work with the bomb simulation.

Assuming he could get his program integrated with the Enterprise-E’s computer.

Unfortunately, nothing was working.

He’d been buried up to his eyeballs in system glitches since installing the program into the Enterprise computer—and twice the array had dumped half of it.

Six times they’d attempted to bring the new subroutine online. Six times the protocols were ignored, and then dumped. Deputy Chief Engineer Paul Porter, as well as the two Defiant engineers, Fabian Stevens and Enrique Muñiz, were as stumped as he was.

Travec, of course, was convinced Sage had somehow botched the install. Luckily, he’d left the holodeck to find more qualified help.

“…bypassing it completely,” Muñiz said somewhere to Daniels’s left, where he and Stevens were deep in conversation with O’Brien and Porter.

“It’s acting like an old service pack module,” Stevens said. “Remember the one we tried modifying on the Defiant, Chief?”

“Yes, and if I recall correctly, you two had to downgrade the hardware to fit the software. Which it looks like we might have to do again—the subprocessors are too fast.”

“That’s it!” Sage said. “I can’t believe it’s that simple.” Fijorians had sharp eyesight, hearing, and smell, which made them excellent scientists and engineers. It was the doglike ears that protruded up through Sage’s thick, silver hair that gave him an almost canine appearance. Daniels could get past the golden eyes—but if Sage had had fangs, he would have been hard pressed not to call him Rover. “I should have known the DPO’s computers were years out of date.” He gave Daniels a smirk as his ears twitched. “Government issue.”

“I am not sure I understand the reference,” Lieutenant Commander Data said as he frowned at Sage. “Why would you have known the age of the computers used at the Department of Planetary Operations?” He shook his head. “You are only a scientist.”

“That was sarcasm, Data,” O’Brien said. “Sage has a very dry wit.”

Daniels could feel the tension rise when the android worked with his team. Several times Data had lost his temper, though his anger had cooled quickly. Mostly the altercations had been between Travec and Data—as the Tellarite believed an android with an emotion chip was incapable of logical assessment and performance.

La Forge had informed all of them in private about Data’s emotion chip and the problems it had caused—and continued to cause—the android. It had been several months since the chip had fused with his neural net, and he was seeing the ship’s counselor regularly in order to get a better handle on his emotions.

But—like most humans facing anger management issues—Data slipped now and then. And Daniels could sympathize. Travec had that kind of effect on people.

Daniels was proud of Sage as he turned a very calm face toward Data. “When I wrote the protocols for the program, I used the specifications for the model-nine isolinear chip processors, which is what we use at the DPO—but of course those are about five years out of date with what the rest of the Federation uses.”

Data frowned. “That is a much slower processor than what the computer core subsections use on board this vessel. I am not even sure that model fully integrated the holographic matrix for three-dimensional storing.”

“They—they didn’t,” came an unsure voice behind Daniels.

He turned to see Lieutenant Reginald Barclay step forward, a tricorder in his right hand, a thermal patch in his left. When everyone turned to look at him, Daniels was afraid the man might faint.

“He’s right,” O’Brien said. “The isolinear subprocessors on this ship are the fastest they make.” He looked at Daniels. “That’s why it keeps dumping the program. Protocols can’t keep up with the processor speed. Quark’s subprocessors in his holomatrix were faster, but only fast enough to cause the glitches we saw.”

“So we either have to rewrite the protocols,” Stevens said, “or dumb down the system.”

“Can you do that?” Daniels moved from the console he’d been working at to join them, careful not to leave Barclay out. “Either one. The subroutine doesn’t have to run simultaneously or be integrated—it’s a rogue system—acts on its own to look for patterns in the sensor sweeps and then compiles them into the simulator program. Maybe if it were on a separate system it could be modified better, updated as Sage and I work on it.” He was ready to try anything at this point. He’d always believed this project had been too rushed.

“I am afraid that,” Data paused a beat and looked at Stevens, “dumbing down the system, as you say, is impossible. The design of the ship would not allow it. It would disrupt normal ship functions.”

“He doesn’t mean change the entire system, Data,” O’Brien said in a somewhat tired tone. “We could build a separate console.” He looked at Muñiz and Stevens. “Maybe rig up something out of those old multitronic systems you two scrounged up.”

But Stevens was shaking his head. “That’s working in the opposite direction, Chief. Comparatively, the model-nine processors are still much faster than anything we can rig out of the trash.”

“M-maybe you could—” Barclay began.

“Looks like we’re going to need to rewrite the protocols.” Porter ran a hand through his thick, short dark hair and blew air between his lips. “The program doesn’t take into consideration the encryption needed for holographic indexing at the speeds this ship utilizes. Wow. That’s going to require a whole new set of command logarithms.”

Daniels hung his head and sighed. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this? It was like fitting a shuttle-sized warp core into a starship-sized core cradle. The core would just fall right through.

But then again, he’d never tried to integrate his small program into something as incredibly advanced as the Enterprise-E.

“Ah—you know you—you could—”

“How long would that take?” O’Brien asked.

“A day or two,” Sage said. “I’m not as familiar with this model circuitry.” He smiled. “But I’d love to learn.”

“We cannot continue to delay the Enterprise’s departure to Starbase 375,” Data said.

O’Brien nodded. “I know. We don’t have time if we’re to get you up and running before then. We need to find another solution. Everyone look for any other cogs in the gears.”

Muñiz nodded and grabbed up the padd resting on the nearest console. He glanced at the readout, frowned, and then held out his hand to Daniels. “May I see your tricorder?”

Daniels handed it to Muñiz and then moved closer to see what had him puzzled. He looked at the diagnostic screen over the engineer’s shoulder.

“Some of these initial syntax errors are wrong,” Muñiz said as he looked from the tricorder to the padd. “I don’t think this is the main problem, but I think this might be one of the associated anomalies. But it appears not all of the database is loaded.”

“Of course it is.” Data moved to stand on the opposite side of the console, facing the engineer. “I supervised the upload myself.”

“Well.” Muñiz shook his head. “According to this diagnostic, there’s only twenty-three percent embedded.”

“I saw the database upload.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The engineer held out the padd. “But I’m only looking at what the computer is telling me.”

“So are you saying I am wrong and the computer is always right? Computers also make mistakes, not just me. And I do not appreciate your double-checking my work.”

Daniels straightened at the sound of irritation in Data’s voice. The android had been responsible for cataloging the components and their variations before uploading the database into the sensor’s memory. He absently wondered why there was a partial upload—unless the speed difference also caused the database to be dumped. Either way, he didn’t suspect the android of any faulty work.

But apparently that wasn’t the way Data was seeing it.

“I wasn’t checking your work, sir,” Muñiz said, looking up from the tricorder to meet Data’s gaze. “We’ve already established that the protocols need to be rewritten in order to be compatible with the subprocessors.” He looked at Data. “I was just checking to see if the database itself needed to be coded for a holographic imaging matrix. And it does—only a part of it uploaded at all.”

Daniels nodded. Now he understood. The database needed to be formatted as well.

Abruptly Data snatched the padd from Muñiz’s hand. The young man stepped back.

“Whoa,” Stevens said as he and Porter also moved away.

“How was I supposed to know the database needed to be formatted before I uploaded it? And it did upload. All of it,” Data said, his voice rising. “It is not my fault this program does not work. If anything is wrong, it will be with your calculations, not mine. And I certainly do not appreciate your pointing out my mistakes.”

“Data!”

Daniels turned to see La Forge move quickly away from the warp core panels and almost jog to stand beside Data. This was the third time the ship’s chief engineer had called out to his friend.

Data’s eyebrows were knitted together and his gold eyes were harsh. “No one was listening to me—”

“No, that would be me,” Barclay muttered beside Stevens.

“—when I said earlier the program looked to be too simple in its base language for the sensor array. Lieutenant Commander Travec even decided I was incapable of understanding something so simple. Just because I have emotions now, he thinks I am unqualified to make a logical assessment—”

“Data—”

“—but the application is slipshod and the entire idea is preposterous. The only way this can work is if I totally rewrite the protocols myself, because I can do it better and faster.”

Daniels watched as Stevens leaned in close to Muñiz and muttered, “Tell us how you really feel.”

O’Brien gave him a withering look.

“Data, that’s enough,” La Forge said. “Muñiz didn’t say you were responsible for anything. He was double-checking the information, not criticizing your work. And I’m sure these good people would be very happy if you didn’t criticize theirs. Data, we’re all on the same team, remember?”

Daniels watched the android look from the padd back to La Forge. His eyes widened. “I did it again, did I not?”

La Forge nodded. “Yeah, you did. But you lasted longer this time.”

Data looked…crestfallen. That was the best word Daniels could think of to describe the expression on Data’s face. He was also aware there was something else—something between the two that had contributed to Data’s abrupt temper flare. Maybe the android was working on controlling it? He assumed La Forge was the only one with the patience to deal with Data during these periods as he seemed to have an excellent working relationship with the android.

“Sir,” Sage said, “even if he can rewrite the protocols, the base syntax still might not keep up with the Enterprise’s processing speed. We didn’t code any of it with holographic imaging—not anything that will work with this isolinear model. We might have to consider scrapping the whole program and starting from scratch if we’re going to integrate the program at all.”

Daniels sighed. “Or I can just learn a new system—translate years of research.” Of course, that could take even longer than rewriting anything.

Barclay cleared his throat. “Commander?”

La Forge looked over at him. “What is it, Reg?”

“I—I was going to say,” Barclay said, the tricorder and thermal patch still in his hands, “if Mr. Data can rewrite the protocols, we can still rig up a separate system in one of the holodecks—use the existing holo-protocols instead of fully rewriting the program—but k-keep the system rogue as Mr. Daniels suggested so the regular speed of the isolinear matrix doesn’t re-dump the program. I—I thought we could then integrate the holodeck system into the main computer and sensor sweeps. It—it would be easy to just overlay the imaging matrix in stellar cartography for a higher pixel resolution without relying on the main core, s-si-since it uses the secondary core.”

Porter nodded. “You mean build a conduit, in a sense. A bridge between the two.”

Barclay nodded, though he didn’t look confident. “But it would only be temporary. The p-program would still need to be rewritten from its base to c-compensate for the subprocessor speed and holographic imaging.”

There was a second of silence before a smile broke out on La Forge’s face below his VISOR. O’Brien’s face reflected a similar one.

“Reg,” La Forge patted his arm. “You did it again.”

Barclay looked around himself in panic. “What’d I do?”

Daniels set his padd on the console and downloaded the original syntax as well as the first root, database, and protocol. Once it was done, he moved around the console and handed the padd to Data. “These are the basics, without all the extras added to it. If you can rewrite it for compatibility, Sage and I can lend a hand with the database.” He glanced at Sage, who shot him an irritated look back.

Data looked at the padd and nodded. He smiled at Daniels. “It will take me at least an hour to finish.”

“Good.” O’Brien looked at his team. “You’ve got one hour to set me up a new sensor station. Get to it.”

All three of the men, including Barclay, smiled just before disappearing.

Sage whispered to Daniels, “I’d really rather work on the rogue system—the tinman gives me the hee-bee-jeebies—and I don’t want to be around the pompous porcine.”

Daniels nodded. “Then do that. I’ll be around for Mr. Data if he needs me.”

Even as Sage took off after the others, Data turned to Daniels. “I will contact you once the new protocol is ready.” He paused, frowned, and then gave a half smile. “Thank you.”

Daniels returned the smile. “Oh no—thank you. You’re going to save Sage and me another week’s work.” He paused a beat before saying, “Mr. Data—”

The android looked at him with a pleasant expression on his golden face. Daniels had seen anger like Data’s before, especially in adolescents trying to get a handle on who they were and how they fit into the universe, even if it was their own smaller one. Sometimes the anger had an external cause. Siobhan dealt with children grappling with emotional damage, either after losing a family member or when recovering from a tragic accident.

Some of the knowledge he’d picked up from Siobhan’s work came through as he smiled at Data. “Don’t let Travec get to you, okay? He’s that way with everybody.”

Data nodded and frowned at the same time. Then he cocked his head to his left shoulder. “How do you cope with him every day?”

Daniels shrugged. “I paint. Ever thought about channeling some of your emotions into art? Maybe take up painting? Or acting?”

Data’s expression changed abruptly from pleasant to mildly perturbed. “What?”

“You know, use art for relaxing. Painting. Music. They’re all a great way to soothe away tension. My wife’s an art instructor—”

But Data had turned away, the padd in his hand, and marched to the holodeck door as Travec came in. If Daniels didn’t know any better, he’d say Data had made a dramatic exit.

Travec looked from the door to Daniels. “Mr. Daniels, what did you do?”

O’Brien muttered under his breath at the Tellarite.

Daniels stood beside La Forge, his own expression full of the confusion he felt inside. The look that had graced the android’s face before he’d turned looked to be a mixture of sadness, loss, and anger. Had he tried to paint or sculpt before? Did he despise music?

Did androids even listen to music? Could they appreciate it?

“What?” He looked at the two men. “What did I say?”

La Forge reached out and patted his shoulder. “It’s not you, Pádraig. Ever since the emotion chip, he’s been having a hard time with his painting, as well as his music and acting.”

“He does all of those?”

“Did,” La Forge said and sighed. “He told me this morning he believed his emotion chip destroyed his ability to perform any art. Claimed he was never going to try it again.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” Daniels frowned. “How can having emotion destroy art? Emotion is what art evokes. You have to know emotion in order to recapture it.”

“I know that, and you know that. But we’ve lived with emotion all of our lives.” La Forge looked back to the door Data had passed through. “Data never has, but he’s learning. He’s trying.”

“But to deny art?”

“I know.” La Forge sighed. “I know.”

CHAPTER
2

In the Mind

“It’s good to see you too, Eric, but why contact me on a Bajoran frequency?” Picard gave Admiral Eric Hahn a half smile. Picard and Riker had just finished dinner with Worf, Jadzia Dax, and Major Kira at Kaga’s Klingon restaurant on DS9 when he received notification of another priority-one message.

Kira had ordered the channel secured and patched through to one of the working holosuites. Per his preset preferences, the holosuite had changed upon his entrance, and he was now seated at the desk of Dixon Hill, a Starfleet communications monitor juxtaposed on the scuffed, wooden desk. In the darkness outside the window behind him, it was snowing silently.

Picard had been pleasantly surprised to see Admiral Hahn staring back at him, but even more startled to hear the admiral had left Starfleet Academy and was now in charge of Starbase 375.

Hahn sighed. “It’s complicated, Jean-Luc. And with what’s happened on Earth, I felt the Bajoran channel was less likely to be tapped into.”

“Tapped into by whom?” Picard narrowed his eyes. “Trouble on the station?”

“Well, yes and no. My assignment here was something of a surprise to me—arranged by Admiral Leyton before the Antwerp bombing. He said he needed to have his best men on all Federation facilities.” He smirked. “I’m more inclined to believe he stuck me out here because I didn’t agree with this new Red Squad.”

Picard shook his head. “Red Squad? I’m not familiar with that security measure.”

“Not a security measure, Jean-Luc. It’s a new elite team of cadets. I’m not sure who created them or who backed them, but they’re the talk of the Academy. Only the best in every class get to be in Red Squad, and they get specialized training.”

“What sort of special training?”

“Heck if I know. I never got a chance to work with them. The first time I voiced any dislike for the idea of singling out a special group of cadets above the other cadets who work just as hard and don’t get special treatment, I was reprimanded. Harshly. By Leyton himself. A week later, I’m here.”

“Eric.” Picard leaned back in the time-worn leather chair. It gave a loud squeak. “You can’t possibly think of your new assignment as a punishment.”

“Oh no. It’s a chance of a lifetime—just not one I’d ever considered myself for. I’m a teacher, not a leader of a space station.” He rubbed his chin. “But that’s not why I called.”

“Oh?”

“Not long after I was assigned here, there was an accident that injured my XO and the station’s chief of security. They were shipped home for recovery just before the bombing—even though we have one of the best medical facilities in the quadrant. Admiral Leyton assigned Commander Snowden to the position of XO. He promoted a new security chief.”

“Commander Ishmael Snowden?” Picard said, recalling a faint memory of meeting Snowden once at some Starfleet function in Geneva. “He once served with Admiral Leyton on the Okinawa.”

“That’s the one,” Hahn said, but Picard caught the subtle disapproval in the man’s voice. “What I can say about him is he’s got a slight phobia about shape-shifters. The man sees them behind every potted plant.”

Picard smiled, but let Hahn continue with no comment. He could understand such a fear because he himself had looked at every member of his crew as being a Changeling a few weeks ago. This was something the Dominion was good at—instilling fear and paranoia.

“After the bombing the two of them presented me with several stringent security measures.”

“We’ve all been given new security procedures.”

“Yes, yes, I know. And I can agree with the phaser sweeps to a point, and a few of the others. But these were measures not laid out in the report from Starfleet Security. One of them was posting a security person to every level, at every entrance and exit. This station is a home to hundreds of families, businesses, and private industry—not just the Federation.” Hahn shrugged. “They wanted to have blood screenings at every exit and entryway on the station.”

Picard arched his left eyebrow. “Well, take my advice; the blood screenings are not always reliable.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m sorry about Lieutenant Addison, Jean-Luc.”

“Bad news travels quickly,” Picard said, noticing the bite in his own tone. “I was just as upset by the deaths on board the Samson. They didn’t deserve such an end.”

Hahn agreed. “Have you chosen a new chief of security?”

Picard shook his head. “Not yet. We have several candidates, but Will and I are taking our time at this. We’ve assigned Lieutenant Huff as acting chief for now. We’re not sure whether to promote from within or request a replacement.” He tilted his head back. “But you should feel lucky—receiving a bomb specialist team as well as twenty new security personnel.”

Hahn nodded. “Did Daniels study the bomb at Antwerp?”

“Yes. They were able to identify the initiation switch and rebuild the shell itself. They’ve identified eight of the eleven chemical and ore components. And he confirmed it was of Founder origin—the bomb switch was made up of the same amalgam of organic material as the Changeling key Constable Odo received from Croden. He and O’Brien’s team are busy getting his equipment together so he can do more analysis before we arrive there.”

“Well, don’t take too long, okay?”

Picard noticed the slight darkening in Hahn’s expression. “Eric, is something else bothering you?”

“Yes, but I can’t talk about it like this. I have something I want to show you—soon as you get here.”

“We’ll be there before you know it.”

Hahn smiled, and the brightness returned to his face. “Keep your ears and eyes open. And, Jean-Luc.” Hahn paused before continuing. “Keep a level head—don’t let hysteria determine your course of action. I’m not sure things are always as bad as they’re painted.”

Hahn cut the connection first, his visage replaced by the blue and white Federation emblem. Picard stood and turned to look out the window at the street below, heavily coated with the white, powdery snow. He thought it odd that the holosuite would create a wintry scene when it was supposed to be mid-July.

But even as he rejoined the dinner and returned to the Enterprise later that evening, Hahn’s last words lingered with him long into the night.

Twenty-four hours without sleep—not a good idea.

Daniels sipped at his fifth cup of coffee as he recalibrated the holographic sensors. He’d always been a tea man himself, preferring jasmine or balta, a regional tea on Canopus. Stevens had suggested the coffee as a suitable stimulant.

It looked as if it had been working for both him and Muñiz—they never seemed to tire, even while Daniels stifled his third yawn in ten minutes.

Unfortunately, nothing ever seemed to tire Travec. For the first few hours he had stood over the team and given suggestions—some of them good. But others?

Daniels was glad that Mr. La Forge had finally requested Travec’s help with the Enterprise work. He suspected O’Brien had had a hand in that arrangement, and Daniels was going to owe the chief.

In his absence the team did three times more work. Mostly because Sage wasn’t baring his teeth every six seconds.

“I think that’s it,” Barclay said from somewhere beneath the new console in holodeck three. All Daniels could see were the lieutenant’s pants—which were slightly scuffed and dusty—and his boots. “Try it now.”

Daniels nodded to no one in particular as he set the coffee back on the bench. He touched several panels in order. Within seconds the entire console came to life, as did the holodeck.

He looked over the console, checked the readings.

The entire design of the junction was impressive. They’d partitioned the holodeck into halves, with Barclay writing the program at record speed. The partition closest to the exit was where Porter, Muñiz, and Stevens built a solid station and integrated its system into the holodeck.

That console faced the second partition, where Barclay created a semicircular shell for a full holographic imaging station. The layout reminded Daniels of one of the amphitheaters in the park in the Hanging Gardens back home. He and Siobhan had shared their first date there, listening to the strings of Estro Rama, his favorite Trill composer.

As the holodeck came online, more of Barclay’s program filled in, from the dark, semisoft gray floor to the overhead lights. The imaging amphitheater was lit up by incandescent panels. The center of the circle marked a grid where the computer could translate the data received into a holographic image.

The doors opened then and O’Brien stepped through. “Is it working?”

At the sound of O’Brien’s voice, Barclay moved out from beneath the console. He scrambled to stand up and nearly knocked Daniels’s coffee off the ledge and onto the controls.

O’Brien nodded to the silver cup. “Might not want to have that around Reg.” He smiled as he looked at the room. “Impressive.”

Porter and Muñiz stepped from behind the imaging circle. “Impressive will be passing the test, Chief,” Porter said. He moved to Daniels and handed him a padd. “Commander Data’s protocols are all installed and working perfectly.”

“I never doubted it,” O’Brien said with a smile and moved to sit beside Daniels. “We rerouted a partial from the holodeck array to the deflector shield—that should protect this system from any feedback.” He touched a few controls. “Stevens, did you—” He looked up and around. “Stevens?”

“Working on it,” came a familiar voice from beneath them.

O’Brien looked over to his right and saw a pair of boots. “Oh.”

“S-Stevens and I were working on the imager,” Barclay said, standing beside the console.

O’Brien looked at Barclay, then looked back at the boots on the floor. “Shouldn’t you get back down there and help?”

“Oh.” Barclay’s eyes widened. “Right.” He disappeared behind the console.

Sage stepped back into the room, his expression quizzical as he handed Daniels another coffee. “Is it working?”

Daniels took the coffee. “I’m awake, but I keep yawning.”

“No.” Sage shook his head, his ears twitching. “This.”

Daniels sipped the coffee. He winced—at the taste as well as the heat. He set the new coffee inside the cup of the empty one. “We’re just powering up.”

Sage wagged his dark eyebrows up and down. “Just tell me when to push the button.” With that he clasped his long fingers together and moved to the other side of the console, peering down at Stevens and Barclay.

O’Brien pursed his lips. “So what is it you do with this? What makes this any different than just inputting the information into the regular holodeck mainframe and using it?”

Daniels set the cup on the floor. He deftly moved his fingers over the console, and the monitor in the center streamed a list. “Regular holodeck mainframes work on security clocked protocols—they’re what keep the safeties in check. But holodeck subprocessors aren’t geared to work directly with the ship’s systems—they work independently, with their own computer core so as not to slow down the speed of the mainframe.”

O’Brien nodded. “And you need the sensor information to catalog and search for specific parameters.”

“Yes. And I need the holodeck to quickly process that information and extrapolate from the database we created, which holds data from explosions all over the quadrant. What we can do from here is piggyback along the ship’s sensor sweeps, cull the information we need, identify the components, and compare the information to the database.” Daniels sipped his coffee. “And this was Travec’s idea.” He winced at O’Brien. “I’d rather just do it his way.”

“I see your point.”

Daniels touched a few panels. “I’ve also loaded in the information Sage and I found at Antwerp into the computer so as soon as the imager’s online, we can run a test and I’ll show you what I do.”

O’Brien nodded. He put a hand on the console back. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Daniels continued cuing up the simulation.

“Investigate the conference sight. All that destruction.” He paused. “I’m not sure I could have done that. It’s hard enough, being out here day to day with my family. Bombs—these are not so uncommon out here. But on Earth?”

Daniels turned to look at O’Brien, a fellow Irishman. What he saw in the man’s face was genuine concern. A deep hurt that something so terrible could happen on his homeworld. “It’s not something I ever thought I’d do, Chief. I work in security. I guard and protect. Detective work was a hobby of sorts. And I’ve always been fascinated with explosives—you can look at my record back home. I like to understand how they work, and then create ways to prevent as much collateral damage as possible.” He looked back at the console, away from the face of concern. “But to actually be in a blast area where so many died. It wasn’t as if there were remains to find and catalog—only pieces. Chemical indications. Nothing left, except for the memories of those left behind.”

“Daniels—”

“It was hard. And the entire time I was there all I could think about was my wife, and what would she do if this was me.” He looked back to O’Brien. “Even when we sieved through the remains we still found organic material. But there was no way to identify it, except for the Changeling key material. And so I resolved then—Sage and I both did—that we would find a way to prevent this from happening again.”

O’Brien nodded. “You will.”

“Okay,” came a voice from below. There was a noise, and Stevens popped up from behind the console. His hair was disheveled and there was excitement in his dark eyes. “Try it now.” He blinked. “Wait—” He held up a hand and disappeared a second before returning with Barclay beside him. “Now try it.”

With a grin to O’Brien, Daniels keyed in the holodex sequence. Sage moved his own fingers over the console as the amphitheater dimmed. There was a flash of information on the screen in front of them, and then SYSTEM READY.

“We’re online,” Sage said. “Booyah.”

O’Brien frowned at the Fijorian. Daniels was accustomed to Sage’s strange outburts.

Stevens held up his hand to Barclay in what Daniels thought would be a “high five” gesture he’d seen several times while on Earth. Only Barclay looked at the engineer’s hand as if it were a third appendage before taking it and pumping it up and down.

Porter came to Daniels’s left. “All readings indicate we’re online with engineering. Deflector connections are steady. The protocols are keeping speed. Stellar cartography is online.”

“Then let’s try a practical application.” Daniels touched several of the illuminated panels as O’Brien moved away. “Scanning Deep Space 9.”

“Initiating imaging holodeck,” Sage said.

Everyone turned to the dimming amphitheater. Almost immediately a three-dimensional image of the station appeared. On the left a list of known mineral and organic compounds and their structural matrix appeared; to the right appeared several views of the station. Top, left, right, bottom. The list of components was color coded and their locations synchronized along the station grids.

“This is one heck of a tactical layout,” Stevens said.

“Thank you,” Sage responded.

Daniels studied the readouts on the monitor in front of him. “Same as before. Clean, except for that trace of nitrilin.”

“I’m not happy about that.”

“Not enough to be worried about, Chief,” Daniels said. He cleared out the image and looked over at Sage. “I suggest we run at least two more tests before we run the Antwerp simulation.”

“I also suggest having Captain Picard and Commander Riker present when you review it,” O’Brien said as he stood and looked over at Muñiz and Stevens, who both yawned. “You two, finish up, clean up, and then get some sleep. We’ve got a big day on the Defiant tomorrow.”

“I was supposed to have tomorrow off,” Stevens said.

But O’Brien was already moving out the door. “Don’t count on it.”

CHAPTER
3

What Dreams May Come

Once the Enterprise was under way to Starbase 375, Daniels finally ate, showered, and caught up on sleep. Refreshed and ready to begin their analysis of the debris and components found at the Antwerp site, he, Travec, and Sage met in holodeck three the next day after receiving full physicals from Dr. Beverly Crusher, the Enterprise’s chief medical officer, and undergoing a routine blood screening.

The day proved uneventful, although it was stressful for Daniels because Travec insisted on running repeated system diagnostics when the results didn’t yield what he believed they should.

Sage continued to mutter under his breath as Travec made comments about having a fine dinner of canine beef waiting for him in his quarters.

Daniels and Sage met Porter and Barclay for dinner, at which Sage continued to point out the Tellarite’s faults and how he should be pulverized and served as a poison. Porter suggested hiring the Orion Syndicate to make him disappear.

Thinking it might be better to calm the Fijorian’s nerves before bed, Daniels suggested finding the art sciences studio. Sage was a bit of a famous painter on his home planet and hadn’t been able to get his hands into any pigments since the bombing.

And that just might improve his sulky mood.

The studio was on deck ten. Daniels breathed in the smells of paint and oil, so much like his wife’s studio back home. He and Sage grabbed a couple of canvases, smocks, palettes, and paints before setting up easels close to one another, but not too close.

Daniels knew Sage liked to paint in a frenzy, sometimes slinging paint on things besides the canvas, whereas he preferred to paint with a more controlled style.

The only other occupant of the room was Data, who’d chosen a spot in the far corner of the room in front of a still life of fruits and vegetables.

Daniels glanced over at Sage, who’d decided to forgo brushes altogether and apply the paint directly with his hands.

To each his own.

After using a light charcoal pencil to sketch out the idea he had in his head, Daniels sat back and closed his eyes, imagining the scene he wanted to paint. He thought of Siobhan, her thick red hair and smiling green eyes. Her studio always smelled like this room. So did her hair, and often her clothes.

“Lieutenant Daniels—”

He opened his eyes and nearly fell off his stool when he saw Data standing beside him. He hadn’t even heard the android approach—and he prided himself on having a sensitive ear. Though not as sensitive as Sage’s.

I was preoccupied.

He put up a hand. “Please, call me Pádraig.”

“Patrick.”

Daniels shook his head. “Actually, it’s Pah-dreek.”

Data watched Daniels’s lips and mimicked them. “Pah-dreek. And please, call me Data.”

Daniels nodded. “What can I do for you, Data?” He took up a larger brush of sable and dipped it in red pigment, then added black to deepen the color, thinking of the mulda’din berries that bloomed in the spring in his back yard. Wouldn’t it be time for them now?

Data seemed unsure of what to say. He opened his mouth several times before finally coming to a decision. “Counselor Troi wishes me to finish a project and hang it in the gallery. I need art lessons.”

Daniels glanced around. The room was approximately thirty meters square, the walls adorned with finished pieces, some framed, some displayed as plain canvas. A waist-high shelf that ran the length of the farthest wall was cluttered with jars of brushes, sculpting tools, rulers, paints, and canvases. Easels sat in two rows beside the shelf and along the left wall in front of windows that looked out at the moving stars.

Several of the easels were covered, half-completed works resting on them. Many were empty. Inviting.

“If you want art lessons, maybe you should check the schedule and sign up.”

“Yes.” Data nodded. “I know. But I would like for you to teach me how to paint again.”

Daniels pointed to himself. “Me?”

“You said your wife was an art instructor.”

“Yeah, my wife. Not me. I’m probably not any better than any average student.”

“But you paint—I have read your file. And you are human, and have emotions.” Data gave a half smile. “I also believe you are the best qualified because you do not know me. You have no preconceived ideas concerning my abilities, nor have you seen any of my previous work. You are the perfect impartial teacher.”

Daniels sighed. “I’m so glad you thought this through, but I’m not a teacher, Data. I’m a security officer.”

“I am unsure how that would disqualify you from teaching art. Do you not have hobbies outside of being a security officer?”

Sage spoke from where he was busy rubbing blue and green paint on a canvas. “He blows things up.”

“You also paint. As I said, I read your service record and personal file.” He glanced back at Sage. “I am also aware that Mr. t’Saiga is a well-known artist on his homeworld. Though”—he frowned—“I do not believe I would enjoy his style of painting.”

Daniels chuckled. “It takes all kinds, Data. I’m flattered you’ve chosen me to help you, but I’m not assigned to the Enterprise. I’ll be on Starbase 375 in less than two days.”

“I do not mind.” Data grinned. “And besides, you owe me for rewriting your program.”

Daniels was surprised the ship’s sensors didn’t register a thunk from his jaw hitting the floor of the studio. He closed his mouth, but couldn’t stop the laugh that built up from spilling over.

Sage had also turned, his smock a blue, green, and yellow mess, as were his hands up to his wrists. “Damn.” He chuckled. “You learn fast.”

Daniels sighed. He couldn’t really say no. It was his habit to paint most nights, and to handwrite Siobhan a letter every night, because she said he needed the practice. His penmanship was terrible.

But—how to teach? It would be easy for his wife—she did this for a living. He set his brush down, slid from the stool, and moved to the covered canvases. Daniels lifted the covers of two of them and looked beneath. “They’re painting models.” He looked at Data. “You do that before?”

“Yes. But I am afraid my renderings no longer resemble the actual model’s contours and lines. She was—” He hesitated. “Imperfect.”

“Data.” Daniels pushed up his sleeves as he moved back to the android. “The first thing we have to do is get rid of that attitude. Art isn’t about perfection.”

“Nope,” Sage said to their left.

Data frowned. “Is art not about reproduction?”

“Noooo—” Daniels chewed on his lower lip. He ran a hand through his thick blond hair. How would Siobhan put this? “Art is about—in essence—emotion.”

This statement caused Data to perk up. “Please. Go on.”

“A machine can replicate something, making an exact copy. But that’s just a copy. Art is more the impression of something. You’ve studied Van Gogh? Monet? Michelangelo?”

Data nodded. “I have studied all of the great artists of Earth, as well as various artists on five hundred other worlds whose artistic tastes are closest to my own. I was able to integrate their styles into my neural processor.”

Daniels lowered his head, looking at Data through his brows.

Sage stopped what he was doing. “Oh no, no, no.” He grabbed a towel on his stool and wiped his hands and actually managed to get most of the paint off them. “You need to core-dump that bit of nastiness right now.”

“Now?”

Sage nodded. “Now.”

Data’s focus shifted and he froze.

Daniels thought for a second he’d broken something.

Then Data blinked and looked at Sage. “I have successfully dumped all five hundred and twenty-seven art files from my positronic matrix.”

Daniels’ eyebrows arched. “Oh. Wow.”

But Sage seemed happy. “Good. Okay. Let’s try this another way. Before you can really begin to understand art—and let’s go with painting for now—you have to understand that art is subjective, Mr. Data. Subjective. Not objective.”

A frown creased Data’s brow. He shook his head. “No. I do not understand. Almost all species appreciate art, so how can it be subjective?”

Daniels stepped in. “Subjective to the individual, Data. Like this.” He turned, motioning Data to follow him. He went to a covered canvas and gently pulled back the sheet. “Look closely at this piece and tell me if you like it or dislike it.”

Sage stepped closer. “Yow…”

Data moved to stand beside Daniels. He tilted his head to the right, then to the left, and finally shook his head. “I do not like it.”

“Good. You see, because I do like it. I like the way the artist added depth to the shadows here”—he pointed with his free hand—“and here. I also like the colors they used in creating her hair.”

“But—” Data turned a confused expression to him. “It is a rainbow. The model’s hair was brown.”

Daniels nodded. “That’s why I like it,” he lied.

“Boss,” Sage started to say from behind Data, but Daniels gave him a look he hoped said, I’m lying through my teeth.

And boy, did he continue to lie about his likes and dislikes on most of the paintings in the room. He’d decided to express an opinion that was the opposite of Data’s on most of the paintings, just so he could prove to him that art was subjective. This was a good start, or so he thought, because all the paintings were of the same subject.

After seven paintings Daniels moved to the stack of canvases, grabbed a clean one, and handed it to Data. “Okay, you said the counselor wanted you to finish a project, right? I’ll start one with you and we’ll see if that works. I already have mine sketched out.”

Data moved his stuff to the easel closest to Daniels’s, while Sage went back to his masterpiece.

Daniels already had a picture in his mind of what he’d like to paint and had started a light outline on the canvas. He leaned over to look at Data. “Something wrong?”

“I do not know what to paint.”

Oh great.

“Why don’t you think of something from your memory—something that makes you feel happy. A scene, or maybe a place.” Daniels had a sudden inspiration. “Or maybe a pet?”

Data’s eyes widened and he smiled at Daniels. “I can paint Spot.”

“Spot?”

“My cat.”

Daniels nodded. That’ll work. “So let’s say we paint for one hour, and then we turn in.” He stifled a yawn. “And then maybe tomorrow we can paint for another hour.”

But even after an hour of painting Data had only a few brush strokes on the canvas. Daniels had watched him with his peripheral vision. The android would dip his brush, mix colors, and lift his brush—only to pause and lower his arm.

And then he would stare at the canvas.

“Travec to Daniels.”

Daniels blinked and tapped his combadge. Why was Travec calling him this time of night? “Daniels here.”

“Why are you not in your quarters asleep? You know your particular circadian pattern requires at least seven hours of solid sleep. The computer insists you are in the art sciences studio. You are not here to experience relaxation.”

Daniels eyes widened. You have got to be kidding me.

“This guy is unreal,” Sage said, his golden eyes wide, his ears twitching back and forth.

But before he could answer, Data tapped his own combadge. “Lieutenant Commander Travec, this is Lieutenant Commander Data. Mr. Daniels is in art sciences because I requested his help with a project. He has been kind enough to assist me.”

There was a pause. “Of course, Commander. Just make sure the lieutenant reports to the holodeck at oh-nine-hundred hours. Captain Picard and Commander Riker will be viewing the Antwerp simulation.”

Daniels looked at Data. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome, but the hour is late, and I am detecting fatigue in your movements. Perhaps it is time to end the night.”

Daniels glanced the room’s chronometer. It was close to oh-one hundred hours. He cleaned his brushes, put away his palette, and covered his canvas. Coming up next to Data, he noticed a faint outline of a cat on the canvas.

He wasn’t sure what to say or how to work with Data. He had noticed that La Forge had been firm but gentle with the android.

“Data,” he said, trying to mimic the chief engineer’s tone. “You’re going to have to actually put more paint on the canvas if you want to see the image.”

Data responded with slumped shoulders. “I am afraid I am still failing.”

“No. It’s not really failure, Data. It’s fear.”

“Fear?” He shook his head. “I was sure I had conquered my fear of emotion. That was one of the first emotions that nearly overwhelmed me—before I discovered anger and rage.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “Perhaps one day I will tell you what happened, but not now.” He stood and covered his painting, rinsed his brushes, and then put his palette away. “We will do this again tomorrow.”

Sage was already cleaned up and heading out the door ahead of Daniels and Data. Daniels noticed Data smiling as they entered the turbo lift.

“Do you play music?” Data asked.

Daniels shook his head. “I’m afraid not, but I do enjoy listening to it. Especially Estro Rama. The string work is incredible.”

“I am not familiar with that composer.”

Sage yawned, leaning against the turbolift door. “Sleepy-time music. Not enough movement, if you ask me.” The turbolift opened. “I’m out. In the morning, Pádraig.”

Daniels stepped out as well and looked back at Data. “Night, Data.”

“Good night, Pádraig.” He nodded. “And thank you.”

“T’Saiga to Daniels.”

Daniels pried his eyes open. He saw darkness. “Siobhan?”

“No, it’s me, the other one you spend all your time with. You up?”

With a sigh he rubbed his face. “Lights.” And then he sat up on the edge of his bed. “No, and yes.”

“Please wake up now, Mr. Daniels,” Travec said. “You are needed in holodeck three.”

What? Daniels narrowed his eyes. What about my circadian cycle? “What—what time is it?”

Sage answered. “Uhm…oh-four-hundred hours. I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here to get the simulation ready for the captain and Commander Riker.”

“So why in the name of all that’s holy are you calling me?”

“Lieutenant Daniels,” Travec said, “It was I who ordered the dog to call you.”

“Travec, I’ve just about had it with you.”

“Food should not speak unless requested to.”

Daniels cleared his throat. “Mr. Travec, why do you need me?”

“We’ve found a strange—well—I’ll say ghost for lack of a better word. Mr. Barclay’s with me.”

Ghost?

“I’ll be right there.”

Twenty minutes later, in holodeck three, Sage, Travec, and Barclay showed Daniels the anomaly puzzling them. Daniels stared at the monitor. “I don’t see it.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with your lack of sleep.” Travec marched over to the right side of the display and thrust his three-fingered hand at a cluster of stars. “It’s right here.”

Daniels stood, squinting at the holograph. Abruptly what Travec had been referring to appeared. A secondary image was visible along the right of the conference room.

“That looks like—” He looked back at Sage. “What is that?”

“We don’t know.” Barclay moved to take Sage’s vacated seat and touched a few panels. “It looks like Deep Space 9—from a great distance.”

Daniels looked back at the image. “Could it be something residual? Caught in the buffer?”

“That’s preposterous.” Travec turned back to the console. “I would expect such a lack of information to be apparent at the Ferengi bar, but not here.”

Sage scanned the information on the monitor. “Well, it looks like you might be right, Pádraig. Seems the initial launch from the rewrite kept a residual image.”

Travec sniffed. “That was not the fault of the program but of the technician, who was incapable of following proper protocols. You did not dump the buffers.”

Sage glared at Travec, who’d come to stand on the other side of the console. “Travec, I did dump the buffers.”

Travec gestured at the image. “Not from where I’m standing. But I do suggest you get this fixed before the captain and the commander arrive.”

Daniels heard the two of them arguing, but he didn’t have the strength to break them up. He was too engrossed in looking at the image to the right of the simulation.

If he squinted he could make it look like DS9. But it looked more like a field distortion. And then it was gone.

Daniels yawned. “I’m going back to bed.”

Barclay’s eyes widened. “But—but you’re going to let me do this by myself?”

Daniels turned to leave. “I have confidence in you, Reg.”

“Confidence? In me?” He looked at Sage. “I can tell he’s new.”

CHAPTER
4

No Traveler Returns

Later that morning, Daniels slipped into the holodeck just before Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and a tall, female security officer. Porter came in a step behind Daniels. Barclay, Sage, Travec, and La Forge were already there, fine-tuning the ghost image.

Barclay moved next to Daniels and whispered in his ear. “It’s all fixed now.”

“Thanks, Reg,” Daniels said as he began powering up the amphitheater.

“Mr. Daniels,” Picard began, and turned to the security woman. “This is Lieutenant Althea Huff, our acting security chief.”

Daniels nodded to Huff. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled and turned to Sage. The two stood at the console as Picard, Riker, and Huff moved back behind them to watch the amphitheater.

“This will begin much the way it did at Quark’s,” Sage said. “But we’ve been able to add depth four-dimensionally, which has made it easier for us to confirm the bomb.”

“Computer,” Daniels said, “execute simulation Antwerp Daniels zero zero one.”

The amphitheater dimmed just as the conference room came to life before them. Daniels was amazed at the lifelike resolution to the images, pixels and stabilization all added in by the incredibly powerful holodeck of the Enterprise.

People milled about in front of them. Daniels manipulated the controls, turning the image to the right in order to concentrate on a vase in the far corner. He paused the image just as the vase took on a familiar golden glaze. “This is where it became obvious there was a Changeling involved.”

Everyone nodded as they watched the image resume. Daniels reversed the image and then stopped it just before the blast, turning the image again to the left, the three-dimensional shift impressing him every second. He could see even more detail than he could back in Lisboa.

He zeroed in on one of the silver beverage containers, very close to a Romulan and human who were shaking hands. The Romulan was smiling.

Daniels touched a panel and the image restarted, moving a frame at a time. Within ten frames the beverage container began to glow just before it blossomed out and the image disappeared.

“The bomb was one of the carafes,” Picard said. “That’s where you found metamorphic material.”

Daniels nodded.

“It’s ingenious,” Huff said. “Something innocuous, unnoticed.” She looked at Daniels. “Was there a timing device used?”

Travec answered. “None that we’ve found. Unless they use some other means of chronometric measurements. We’ve gone through the database we have on Gamma Quadrant traders to see if any of them deal in the base metals or chemicals we’ve found. The only match we have found was nitrilin.”

“Oh,” Sage spoke up, “and just a trace of tynoxillan.”

Riker frowned. “Tynoxillan?”

“Tynoxillan, or TYN as most of the traders call it, is a D-grade explosive chemical,” Travec said as he read over the list on the monitor of the console. “Not as well known as nitrilin, but used in the Gamma Quadrant.”

Daniels nodded. “What puzzles me is, why use it?”

Picard crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain.”

Daniels shifted in his chair to face the captain. “Well, both TYN and nitrilin accomplish the same thing. In fact, most of the components we’ve found are redundant.”

“You mean there’s really no use for them?” Riker said.

“Yes, sir.” Daniels nodded. “Of the eight components we’ve found, we can and have created nearly the same type of explosion, with the same intensity, volume, vibration, and level of destruction, by using only four of the revealed elements.”

“What we’re guessing,” Sage said, “is that the Dominion used eleven for one of two reasons: either to confuse us, knowing we would try and analyze the bomb, or to somehow mask the maker or signature.”

“I tend to believe the latter,” Huff said. “They were trying to hide the maker.”

Daniels shook his head. “Doesn’t fit the profile.”

“You’re trying to apply human profiles to Changelings, Lieutenant?” Huff’s voice reflected her skepticism. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I’ve told him that for weeks,” Travec said.

Daniels kept his voice calm and even, though he could feel Sage shift to his right with irritation. “And as I’ve reminded Mr. Travec repeatedly, they’re not human profiles. They’re generic because of one fact: a bomber’s profile is still that of someone trying to get attention. They want us to know they did this. And they could do it again.”

“Well, the Dominion has our attention,” Riker said. “But I have to agree with Lieutenant Huff and Commander Travec—we can’t apply human ideas to Changeling attitudes.”

Daniels nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Picard was watching the interrupted simulation. He turned to Daniels and Sage. “You’ve both done a fine job—though I wouldn’t discount the idea of profiling, human or not. Keep working on it.”

Daniels turned back in his seat, his mind going over the possibilities. Another idea came to him—something he’d not thought of until Porter listed the bomber’s motives.

“Paul,” Daniels said, his gaze fixed on the list of properties on the monitor. “There’s one other possibility we haven’t investigated.”

“What’s that?” Porter said as he and Sage stared at the analysis.

“There wasn’t just one bomb. But two.”

“Ahead of schedule?” the voice said through the tiny speakers of the case.

He cringed. The Enterprise’s delayed departure from Deep Space 9 had originally been a boon to his plans, but he’d just learned the Federation’s fastest ship had indeed lived up to its name, and would be arriving a good eight hours before its original schedule.

“Sir, if they come out of warp and sweep the starbase, they’re sure to find—”

“I know that,” came the harsh voice, loud behind the small speakers. “It’ll ruin everything. But I have no means to delay them.”

He remained silent, waiting. Time dragged on as it had since his assignment began. He missed home. He missed being with his family, sharing with them. He was tired of physical speaking—it was so much easier to just lose himself to his family’s link and allow his thoughts to unwind and become one.

But he had a job to do.

“We’re going to have to go through with the operation,” the voice finally said. “Only I’ll make sure my contacts on this end do not inform the Enterprise once the operation is under way. Can you arrange to be at your station the moment the Enterprise comes out of warp?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll monitor them on a low-band channel so as not to be detected.”

“Without forewarning, they won’t have their shields up. I want you to target their sensors.”

Of all the orders he’d expected to receive, that was not one of them. He frowned at the case. “Sir?”

“You heard me.”

“Fire—on a starship?”

“Those are your orders. Do not give them any opportunity to get those sensors back up. If you have to move your timetable up, then do it. Just make sure the package is delivered on time.”

He nodded. There was nothing else to do.

The communication darkened. He shut the case, set it on the floor, and kicked it beneath the bed.

Daniels met with Data that night and the next night. He and Sage proved to themselves, as well as to Travec, that there was only one bomb, not two. But the duplication of chemicals and compounds still rattled Daniels, as it had since he identified the components.

Data appeared happy and content on the second night and managed to add more to his cat sketch. He tried a few of the darker colors first, blending orange and yellow and black. A little white.

Unsure of what Spot looked like, Daniels commented occasionally as he worked on his own painting, giving encouragement.

That night he sat in front of his canvas, his eyes closed, calling up the memory of the Hanging Gardens. What time of year would it be now? Spring? Would the purple wisteria be in full bloom yet? Or the white blossoms of the toped trees?

He imagined himself standing barefoot in the deep, thick Canopus grass. He could almost feel the wind caressing his cheeks.

“Lieutenant?”

He could almost smell the sweet scent of earth jasmine.

“Pádraig?”

The sound of his name brought him back, and he opened his eyes to see Data looking at him with a concerned expression. “Data, what’s wrong?”

“Were you thinking? Your eyes were closed.”

Daniels smiled and uncrossed his arms from his chest, unaware he’d even moved them into that position. His brush and palette lay on the table to his right. “No, I was visualizing.”

“Visualizing?”

“Seeing an image in my head. Sometimes I imagine more than the image.” He picked up a brush and dipped it in the red, and then mixed in some white pigment. “Like adding in the other senses. Mostly sound and smell. It helps me see the image I want to paint.”

“With your eyes closed?”

Daniels nodded, looking at Data. “Closing my eyes helps block out other distractions. I sometimes use it in tactical situations. Not in the middle of action.” He reached up with his brush and made a few strokes of light red. Berries hanging on the treckle vine. “But it helps me concentrate.”

“Not me,” Data said and lowered his intense gaze. “My only experience with closing my eyes was because of fear.”

“Fear?” Daniels paused and looked at him.

“Yes.” Data nodded. “The first emotion to provoke that response was fear. I—I nearly lost my best friend. I could not move because I was terrified of being injured. When I closed my eyes I felt as if the danger was no longer there. But it was, and I opened my eyes again to see Dr. Soren pointing his weapon at my head.”

This wasn’t something Daniels expected to hear. He set his brush down and wiped his hands on the towel in his lap. “Data, that’s terrible.”

“It was last year, before the Enterprise-D was destroyed. We were investigating the Amargosa Observatory.” He shook his head. “I have often thought of removing those memory engrams so that I will not feel so—” He swallowed. “—guilty.”

“You can do that? Remove certain memories?”

“Yes. But Counselor Troi does not wish me to do that. She believes my memories will act as teachers. She says we learn from our mistakes and if we never acknowledge them, we tend to repeat them.”

Daniels nodded. “She’s right.”

The stars outside the studio windows shifted and became still.

“We have dropped out of warp,” Data said.

Daniels removed his smock and stood. “Are we already at Starbase 375? If so, we’re early.”

The studio abruptly shifted, the jolt knocking over easels, paints, and half-completed sculptures as well as the two officers within. Daniels lost his footing and he was pitched to the floor in front of the waist-high shelving where supplies were kept. A cascade of canvases, bottles, brushes, and palettes came down on top of him.

Before he could move, a hand shot through the debris and grabbed the front of his uniform tunic and hauled him to his feet. The lights in the room dimmed as a klaxon blared through the ship’s speakers.

“Red alert. All hands, red alert.”

“Are you all right?”

Daniels nodded. “I think so. What happened?”

“Uncertain.” Data released Daniels’s uniform and tapped his badge. “Data to bridge.”

“Data.” Riker’s voice came through. “I need you up here. Secondary systems are down, and we’ve lost external sensors.”

“I am on my way.”

Daniels followed Data out of the studio into the corridor, his mind already going over standard starship protocols. As a member of any security team, he would need to check in with the chief.

He tapped his combadge as he moved. “Daniels to Huff.”

“Daniels,” came Huff’s voice. She coughed a few times.

“Sir,” Daniels began as he wove around a few moving crew members to the turbolift, “external sensors are down. Where can I be of service?”

“Are you near the bridge?”

“We’re several decks below it.”

“Get to the bridge. You’re the closest officer.”

“Acknowledged.”

The overhead lights flickered as the two made their way to the turbolift. When the door didn’t respond to their presence, Data turned and accessed an information panel along the wall. The schematic image of the Enterprise flickered behind the smooth, polished finish as his thin fingers moved quickly over the controls. “Apparently the secondary systems that are offline are confined to decks eight, nine, and ten.”

“Jefferies tube.” Daniels turned to the nearest access and opened the door.

Daniels allowed Data to lead and he followed close behind. He tapped his combadge. If the ship had lost external sensors, then there was no way they could sweep for bombs. “Daniels to t’Saiga.”

There was no answer.

The two emerged from an access panel near the tactical station on the bridge. Daniels could see immediately that many of the crew members on the bridge had fared worse than he had, being caught off guard by whatever it was that had hit the ship. A few lay on the floor unmoving as medical personnel stepped out of the turbolift.

He recognized Nurse Ogawa from his recent blood screening as she bent over the conn officer.

Riker stood beside the operations station and turned as Daniels and Data entered. He too looked as if he’d come face-to-face with the floor or a console. Blood smudged the left side of his face.

Data went immediately to his post as Daniels stepped forward.

Riker eyed him warily. “Lieutenant Huff is trapped in a turbolift. We need help at tactical.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded and moved to the station behind the first officer’s chair.

The turbolift opened again, and Picard and Hawk both stepped through. As the latter moved to the conn, the former said, “Number One, report.”

Riker remained beside Data as he spoke to the captain. “We dropped out of warp near Starbase 375 and were immediately fired on.” He moved around Data to sit at helm control. “We’ve lost secondary systems on decks eight, nine, and ten, and external sensors are down. Geordi’s trying to reroute the power now. We do have shields, but without those sensors we’re blind.”

“Who fired on us?”

“We won’t know until—”

“Excuse me, sir.” Daniels had been busy running a diagnostic on all ship’s systems, keeping an eye on external sensors. “We’re being hailed by Commander Snowden on the starbase.”

“Can you put it on-screen?”

“I think so, sir.” Daniels transferred the incoming message to the main viewer.

“—Enterprise, please respond—” Commander Snowden appeared. He was a large man, with broad shoulders that filled the screen and a flat-topped crew cut of brown and white hair. His light blue eyes seemed to pierce through the viewer.

“Channel open, sir,” Daniels said, anticipating the captain’s next order.

“Commander, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Are you under attack?”

“Captain Picard.” Snowden looked relieved. “I must apologize for the actions of my chief of operations. Our external shields were down at the time of your arrival, and he fired only because he believed the starbase was under attack. How badly was your ship damaged?”

“We’ve sustained damage to a few secondary systems, and our external sensors are offline.”

“That’s too bad.” Snowden frowned. “We were hoping you could help us. Are you still carrying that bomb team on board?”

Picard glanced at Daniels but kept his face passive. “Commander, where is Admiral Hahn?”

“I’m afraid that’s part of what we need help with,” Snowden said. “An hour ago our internal sensors detected a concentration of unknown elements on deck twenty-seven, near the secondary reactor. The admiral sent in a security team to check the readings, but shortly after that, we lost all of our internal sensors. The admiral went to investigate. When the sensors came back online, the admiral was missing.”

“Missing?” Picard said as Riker straightened. “Missing off the starbase?”

Snowden nodded. “He’s not registering on the computer’s sensors. There’s some sort of dampening field on deck twenty-seven.” He paused. “Hahn feared it was another Dominion bomb.”

“Why believe it was a Dominion bomb?”

“The admiral had received all the information from Admiral Leyton’s bomb teams. The concentration matched the specifics outlined in the report.”

Picard looked at Daniels. “Mr. Daniels?”

Daniels shook his head. “External sensors are still offline, Captain,” he said before looking up at Picard. “We can’t see anything. But we can use the junction protocols Mr. Data wrote and download them into the starbase computers and use the starbase sensors. That way we can confirm if the elements are those within a Dominion bomb.”

Picard nodded. “Make it so. Mr. Data, go with them, and make sure Commander Travec stays here. I’ll alert Lieutenant Huff to ready a security team to accompany you.” He looked at the screen. “Prepare to receive an away team. Admiral Leyton’s bomb specialist as well as my second officer will be leading them.”

Daniels and Data moved to the turbolift.

“There’s something else, Captain,” Snowden said just as the turbolift door opened. Daniels paused and turned to look at the viewer. “As of an hour ago I received a priority communication from Admiral Leyton on board the Lakota. Earth’s entire power relay system has been sabotaged. Her sensors, transporters, surface-based defenses have all been neutralized.”

Daniels felt his heart lodge in his throat.

Snowden leaned in close. “Earth is defenseless.”

CHAPTER
5

The Thousand Natural Shocks

Daniels, Data, Sage, Huff, and three security officers—Lynch, Niles, and Ryerson—beamed into operations on board Starbase 375.

Ops was structured in the shape of a ring, with the center chair for the commanding officer, a row of viewers for tactical, as well as an outer ring for operations, tactical, communications, and engineering.

Snowden hovered nearby as Daniels and Sage busied themselves tying in the starbase’s sensor arrays to their tricorders, asking about every step Daniels made. Being only a lieutenant, he wasn’t sure if telling the commander to put a lid on it would be acceptable Starfleet protocol.

Though twice when he found the man less than half a meter beside him he stifled the urge to shout MOVE!

“What are you doing now?” Snowden asked.

Daniels counted to three before turning to look at the commander. He could just see Sage beyond Snowden’s shoulder. Unfortunately, the Fijorian was making as if to strangle the commander. “Sir, I’m updating the starbase elemental databases to synchronize with those of the Enterprise. This will allow the sensors to concentrate on the many variances of Gamma Quadrant–relevant material.”

Data watched his own padd and kept an eye on the sensor diagnostics, making sure no centimeter of the ship was missed. They weren’t just looking for the pieces of bomb—they were also looking for the admiral.

And everything was as clean as all the other stations had been.

Until they reached deck twenty-seven. “And there it is,” Sage said from his position at the main sensor array panel. He held his tricorder in his hands. “I’ve got a level eighty-six percent across the board.”

“Eighty-six. That’s a low-percentage concentration,” Daniels said. “Antwerp read a ninety-three.”

“What does that mean?” Snowden said.

Data gave him a curious stare. “It means the computer is only eighty-six percent certain that the unknown particles found in this particular concentration are of Dominion origin.”

“What will clinch the evidence,” Daniels said as he downloaded the readings into his padd, “is if we can identify the switch as being made of organic material.”

“Eight of the eleven particles are accounted for.” Data turned to Daniels. “I am also getting a steady but slow variance in thermal readings.”

Daniels frowned. “You mean it’s getting hotter?”

Data nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“Can you get a lock on it? Beam it out?”

“I told you, you can’t,” Snowden said. “It’s impossible.”

Data touched a few panels. “There could be a transporter inhibitor in operation, which might also be why we cannot get an exact location.”

“Dammit,” Daniels said. He tapped his combadge. “Daniels to Picard. Sir,” he paused a second, not wanting to say the word bomb on any channel, open or secured, “we have a problem on deck twenty-seven, corridor nine, reactor room six.”

“Understood. Can it be removed?”

Data tapped his own combadge. “Not with the transporter, sir. There is definitely an inhibitor set up nearby. I suggest a few of us go in with isolinear tags, locate it, and beam it out. I estimate we have sixteen minutes, sir.”

“Sixteen minutes before what?” Picard said.

Sage made a noise like an explosion, holding his hands out to his sides.

“Before the blast, sir. I am picking up a thermal signature that is gaining temperature at a steady rate,” Data said. Then, taking a cue from Sage, said, “Boom.”

“Commander Riker will be leading a security team there as well to help search for the admiral.”

“Captain,” Snowden said. “I don’t believe sending more people over is necessary. My security people are quite capable of handling the situation.”

“Yes,” Picard said. “So capable that they fired on a Starfleet vessel without hailing them first. I’m afraid I’m going to have to override you on this one, Commander. We have to find Hahn and get rid of that bomb. Picard out.”

Daniels sighed as he synchronized his tricorder with the main computer and set his phaser. He looked at Huff. “I suggest everyone set phasers at three point six. If there’s a bomb, there’s bound to be a Changeling nearby.”

“Already done,” Huff said. “We had our own infiltrator recently.”

Daniels looked over at Sage. “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the thermal levels. If you see anything a little wonky, let me know.”

Sage nodded.

Huff motioned for Lynch and Niles to flank Daniels and Data before the five of them took the lift to deck twenty-seven.

The deck was completely deserted as Daniels and Data held their tricorders out in front of them, moving closer to corridor nine. Reactor room six was still thirty meters ahead.

“Riker to Huff.”

Huff tapped her combadge. “Huff here.”

“…eiving interference…unknown. Wasn’t able…find Admiral Hahn on deck twenty—”

Huff paused just as everyone else did. “Sir, I didn’t make out that last statement. Can you repeat it?”

“They still have not found Admiral Hahn,” Data filled in the blank.

Huff nodded. “Sir, we haven’t seen anyone on this level. We’re approximately thirty meters from the location.”

Data said, “I am reading a low-level dampening field in this area. I believe the closer we get to the bomb, the stronger it will become.”

Daniels sighed. “Great. I wonder if—”

“T’Saiga to Daniels.”

“What is it, Sage?”

“Remember how you told me about wonky?”

Huff looked at Daniels. He kept his gaze locked with hers, both of them sharing the same bad thoughts. “Yeah…”

“Well, just after you left, the thermal levels disappeared. I can’t read the bomb at all. Nothing. Not the composition, not even the location. Do you still see it on your tricorder?”

“How come we can hear him but not Commander Riker?” Huff said.

The hairs on the back of Daniels’ neck stood on end. That was a good question. He tapped his combadge. “Daniels to Picard.”

There was no answer.

Data did the same.

“Sage, you can still hear me?” Daniels said.

“Loud and clear.”

“What about Commander Riker?”

There was a pause. “Yes. He’s heading in your direction but he’s unable to reach you. Wait a minute—how come I can hear you but he can’t?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Lynch said from where he stood beside Daniels.

“Me too,” Daniels said. “We need to get out of here. Sage, tell Commander Riker not to come any closer. Something’s not right, and I have a sinking feeling we’re being—”

“Pádraig!” Sage yelled over the badges. “It’s back and it’s hot! You need to get—”

That was the last thing any of them heard as a thunderclap drowned out the rest of Sage’s warning, and the bulkhead to their left blew in on top of them.

The Enterprise bridge crew watched in horror as the lower right quarter of the starbase burst out, blasting bulkhead and debris into space.

“Report!” Picard shouted as he sprang from his chair.

Ensign Adriana Berardi responded from ops. “The coolant tanks on the secondary fusion reactor are damaged. The reactor appears stable but there are hull breaches on decks twenty-seven through twenty-nine.”

“What about our people?”

“I’m getting faint readings. But I can’t get any transporter locks. There’s still some sort of dampening field in place.”

Picard frowned. “The field is still in place?”

“Aye, sir. Apparently the field is being generated from another location.”

The captain took a step forward and pointed at the screen. “Can you pinpoint it?”

After a few more seconds Berardi shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It reverts back into the station, where it disappears into another dampening field.”

“He’s toying with us,” Picard said under his breath. “Whoever planted that bomb is toying with us.”

“Sir,” Berardi said. “Commander Riker’s hailing us.”

“On-screen.”

A bruised and dirtied first officer appeared on the screen. The light was dim and a haze blurred the background. “Number One, where are you?”

Riker coughed. “We’re on deck twenty-seven, about twenty meters away from Data’s last known coordinates. The few systems working on this deck report a shield is up to contain the hull breach.” He glanced off-screen. “But that’s not going to last long. The coupling’s damaged. When that goes, the whole deck will be purged of atmosphere.”

“Find our people and get out of there. I’ll have La Forge get to work on pinpointing and deactivating that dampening field.”

“Riker out.”

Picard turned back to his chair and looked at it.

Irritation turned to anger that built slowly from his solar plexus, burned upward into his chest. His thoughts centered around the sadness and loss he’d held in check since the destruction of the Samson, as well as the tragic death of Linda Addison, an innocent woman.

He and the crew had defeated that Changeling—but hadn’t destroyed it.

And now it appeared there were more in the Alpha Quadrant, on Earth destroying her defenses as well as here toying with innocent lives again. He would not stand for it.

Not again.

Someone touched his arm. He looked to his left where Troi sat beside him. Her large black eyes focused on his. “Captain, we’ll find the admiral, as well as Data and the others.”

He nodded. “And then we’ll find the Changeling that did this—and this time, he won’t get away.”

Daniels woke to the sound of creaking metal. The light was diffused as the auxiliary power brought the emergency lights online. His nose and mouth were filled with dust. He tasted something metallic in the back of his throat. Something was pinning him down, keeping him from moving. His head hurt.

The creaking sounded again and he heard someone else cough nearby. A beam of light blinded him, and he closed his eyes.

Data’s voice echoed above him. “Captain, I have located Lieutenant Daniels and Ensign Niles. Niles is unconscious. Daniels is injured but responsive.”

Daniels took in a deep breath and abruptly coughed. He was on his right side, his head pressed up against something hard.

“Hold still,” Data said from above.

The pressure on his chest eased and he could move. Daniels pulled at the bulkhead debris surrounding him. His head throbbed with each cough.

“The tricorder is picking up Admiral Hahn’s combadge several meters ahead. Mr. La Forge has also informed me there is a hull breach exactly ten meters in that same direction. The force field shielding it is weakening.”

Daniels managed to push himself up into a sitting position.

Data knelt down beside him. “How do you feel?”

He blinked at Data several times. His vision blurred and he put his hand to the right side of his forehead. His fingers came away wet and sticky. “Like I was hit by a bulkhead.”

“That is a very accurate approximation of what happened. Mr. Lynch and I appear to have sustained less damage. Mr. Niles is unresponsive, and Lieutenant Huff has a broken leg as well as probable internal injuries.”

Daniels nodded, tried to push himself up. The beam he was using for leverage gave way with a loud crash, but Data stood and pulled him upright by his arm. Once he could stand without wobbling, Daniels said, “We need to beam them to sickbay.”

“The Enterprise is unable to lock onto our signals. There is still an inhibitor working.”

Daniels frowned at Data. “But how is that possible? The bomb went off. That means it’s emanating from a different location in the station.”

Data nodded. “That would be my conclusion.”

Daniels looked around for his bag. He spotted the edge of it in the spot where he’d landed. With a groan he leaned over, grabbed a chunk of debris, and pulled the bag to him. “Here.” He reached inside and took out three isolinear tags. “Let”—He put the back of his hand to his forehead and blinked again. Data’s face swam in front of him. “Let Chief Mun Ying know to lock onto the frequency forty-four megahertz.”

Data nodded and contacted the transporter chief. Within seconds he heard the buzz of a transporter. Data and Lynch returned.

“You should beam to sickbay as well,” Data said.

Daniels pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder and shook his head. “You said you located Admiral Hahn’s combadge, and I need to get close to the blast center and collect samples. If the hull gives, any evidence could be swept into space.” He picked his way clear of the debris and looked to see Lynch standing several meters away, his phaser rifle in his hand. Instinctively Daniels looked down for his own weapon and found it on the floor. Slowly he leaned over to retrieve it, the motion making him nauseous. When he straightened he looked at Lynch.

Lynch preceded Daniels and Data around the corner. They moved carefully over bits and chunks of bulkhead, metal, and circuitry. A blast of cooling fluid sprayed a mist of white to their left as they passed by.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Lynch turned to the left and stopped.

Daniels and Data paused beside him, their gazes riveted to the mangled bulkhead to their left.

And the masculine human hand that protruded from the center of it all.

My God.

Data moved forward and gently placed his thumb and middle finger against the wrist. He paused and then looked back at Daniels. He gave a single head shake.

Dead.

“I am afraid it is Admiral Hahn.”

“Picard to Data. Dr. Crusher’s treating the wounded. Commander Riker and his team are on their way to your location. Commander Snowden is accompanying them with two of his own security personnel. Any luck finding the admiral?”

Daniels glanced at Data before he tapped his own combadge. “Daniels here, sir. Yes, sir, we’ve found the admiral. It looks as if he was caught in the blast.”

He looked back at the debris, ducked his head beneath collapsed beams as he stepped gingerly over blasted and broken bits of plastic and circuitry. The door to the reactor room was two meters to his right, around the corner.

Reaching into his bag, he retrieved his own tricorder and began scanning the structural damage to the hall where the admiral had perished. It was hard to make out the exact center of the blast, but from the scans on his tricorder, it looked as if the blast was at a safe distance from the reactor.

Daniels frowned at the tricorder as the readouts blurred. He put his hand to the bridge of his nose. Blinking, he looked past the device to the floor. Just to the right he saw the edge of a padd, still activated.

Closing the tricorder and dropping it into the bag, he grabbed hold of the closest dislodged girder and bent to retrieve the padd.

Footsteps echoed around them. Lynch moved to stand in front of Daniels and Data, shielding them from anyone approaching. Daniels had his phaser out as well, the padd in his right hand.

Riker appeared first, then the salt-and-pepper head of Commander Snowden. They were flanked by two of the starbase security members and three of Huff’s people.

“It’s us.” Riker narrowed his eyes at Daniels. “Why aren’t you back on board the—”

“Commander,” Data interrupted. He nodded to the body.

Riker’s gaze moved to the debris and the protruding arm, as well as the red piping around the edge of the sleeve. His shoulders dropped, and Daniels was surprised at the intense emotion in the commander’s expression. He was obviously upset by the find, but his self-control returned as he turned a hardened look at Data, Daniels, and Lynch. “The explosion damaged several of the internal environmental systems on this deck and the one below. The starbase’s power couplings are fused on the upper decks.”

“Meaning the shields protecting us could go at any minute,” Snowden interrupted. “We need to get back to a safer deck and beam out of here.”

Riker turned an angry face toward him. “I’m not leaving the admiral’s body here to be blown out into space if those shields go. We’re going to carry him to a possible beam-out point.”

“Commander.” Daniels reached inside his bag and pulled out an isolinear tag and held it up. “We can use one of these. The Enterprise has the beaming frequency and is standing by.”

Riker gave him a grim nod. “Proceed.”

One of the starbase security officers stepped forward and took one. He moved to the admiral and attached it to his sleeve. Data contacted Chief Mun Ying, and the admiral was beamed out.

Daniels looked down at the padd in his hand. The readouts on it were garbled, and he thumbed a few of the lower controls. Nothing helped—it was as if the screen were reading two files at the same time.

Either that, or his vision had blurred again. Daniels was acutely aware of a throbbing behind his eyes. He needed to get back to the ship.

“Okay, people,” Riker said. “We need to be moving out of this area and up to deck twenty-six. There we can beam back to ops.”

“Sir,” the security officer said as he stepped closer to Daniels. “Where did you get that?”

There was something in the tone of the man’s voice that triggered several of Daniels’s internal warnings—it was a voice that spoke of possession and reclamation.

The security officer reached out for the padd, but Daniels moved away. “It’s mine,” he lied, but he wasn’t sure why.

But the lieutenant stepped even closer, and as he did the emergency lights revealed his face in full.

Daniels froze.

It was like looking at a ghost from his past. The face was that of a man he knew he’d never see again. As he stood rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with the officer’s, Daniels took in the man’s uniform. The gray turtleneck, smudged along one side. The scuffed jacket. The rip in the left sleeve.

He looked at the officer’s face as he reached up to touch his own. Felt the slick perspiration from the heat generated by the blast, held in close confinement by the shields. He felt the heat intensely inside the thick, two-layered uniform.

But this man—this ghost—wasn’t perspiring.

And there wasn’t a speck of dust on his face. No dirt. No soot.

After dropping the padd into his bag, Daniels had his phaser up and aimed at the man’s chest. “Stay right there—don’t come any closer.”

“Mr. Daniels,” Riker said, his tone coarse. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This man is a Changeling, sir,” Daniels said. “I know his face—he died on board the Odyssey. He’s wearing the face of Lieutenant Jonathan DeNoux.”

“Put down that weapon, Mr. Daniels,” Snowden said. The panic evident earlier in his suggestion to flee was gone, replaced by irritation. “That’s Jonas Abidah, my chief of operations.”

Daniels and the imposter stared at one another.

“Mr. Daniels,” Riker said. “I order you to stand down. Snowden passed Mr. Abidah himself. I saw the blood screening.”

“Screenings can be faked, sir,” Daniels said. His vision blurred for a second, and he couldn’t hear what Snowden was saying over the roar in his ears.

“—obviously wounded and not in his right mind. Look,” Snowden said. “He’s shaking.”

The commander was right. Daniels was shivering, and he knew it was shock. He’d seen it a hundred times himself in his career in security.

“…calm down, sir,” Riker was saying. “Mr. Daniels—”

The imposter’s body wavered in front of him.

“…medical attention. We need to leave,” Snowden was saying.

Daniels’s vision blurred again and the imposter’s features shifted. Bent. Changed.

But so subtly. Daniels blinked. Abruptly the man’s face was different. Still the same mocha skin, dark eyes, dark hair. But his face wasn’t the same. The features had morphed into someone else.

Daniels looked at Riker. “You saw that—he changed. You saw him change.”

Riker held up his hand. “No, Mr. Daniels,” he said. “I didn’t see him change.”

But he had changed.

It had.

Daniels’s vision blurred again, but this time he couldn’t clear it. His knees buckled as he lowered his hand and the phaser fell to the floor.

CHAPTER
6

What Dreams May Come

So far, everything had gone as planned. Even the admiral’s death could now be explained away easily enough.

There were only two problems he could see.

Taking a moment away from the chaos, he removed the small case, sat on the bed, and opened it.

“Receiving,” came the voice as usual. It took longer this time. “Why have you risked contacting me now? You reported the Enterprise’s sensors are back online. They can detect this transmission if they look for it.”

“Yes, sir, but I—”

“Did the blast go off as planned?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“And the signature—was it placed exactly where it should be?”

He bristled. He was good at his job, and he disliked being drilled. “Yes, sir. But there is a problem—possibly two. I was recognized.”

There was a pause, as he expected. “Recognized?”

“The bomb specialist—Pádraig Daniels—he recognized the face of Jonathan DeNoux. He pulled a phaser on me and accused me of being a Changeling in front of others.”

“What did Picard say?”

“He wasn’t there. But Commander Riker was. Luckily they didn’t believe him because he almost immediately passed out from a head wound.”

Another pause. “That could be a blessing.”

“He’s in sickbay on the Enterprise, along with the security team and Commander Riker. Snowden is, as well.” He paused. “I’ve also changed my appearance—subtly—so as not to arouse suspicion here on the station.”

“Good. The average human won’t notice unless they compare images. I’ll make sure my contact at Planetary Operations disposes of the necessary records for me.”

“Unless they demand a DNA screen.”

“I’ll take care of that. And the other problem?”

He paused. It might not actually be a problem. But it was better to let his contact know. “Sir, there was a padd near the body—still active.”

“So? Those things would survive a Klingon blood feud.”

“Hahn claimed he had everything he needed on a chip—but I haven’t found that chip.”

“You think it’s in the padd?”

“It’s possible. But the padd is with the specialist. I’m sure it hasn’t been examined yet.”

“Get it back. We can’t afford to be discovered. Not now. Not when we’ve accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. Find it. And if he sees it, then he’s become a casualty of war.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t happy about killing again. He’d killed too often since taking this mission. More than he bargained for. He believed in the cause, and he knew they were right in taking over Earth and her facilities.

“Do you have a problem with carrying out orders?”

“No, sir. It’s just that we need the specialist. I can’t kill him. He has to authenticate the bomb.”

There was a pause. “That much is true. Then make sure the specialist finds what he needs to find and nothing more. Watch him.”

End of transmission.

He sat in his room, staring at the reflection of a face that wasn’t his, and began to wonder how far and how deep one had to dive before drowning.

From somewhere in the dark there was a rhythmic cadence. A heartbeat that echoed inside his head.

And Siobhan’s voice. “Open your eyes.”

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to sleep. They were on their honeymoon. Why did he have to get up early?

“Please, just open your eyes. Tell me your name.”

He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were heavy. He heard a buzzing in his ears. He tried again and succeeded, only to close them again as bright light burst in and burned the back of his head.

“That was good. Now try again and look at me.”

That wasn’t Siobhan. That was Dr. Crusher.

He blinked several times and looked up into her kind face. She smiled at him. “Tell me your full name.”

“Pádraig…Bréanainn…Daniels…” He frowned. His head ached, but he wasn’t sure why he was flat on his back looking up at the ship’s CMO.

“And my name?”

“Dr. Crusher,” he said, and cleared his throat. “What happened with—”

And then it all came back. Fast. The bomb. The Changeling. Riker’s irritation and ordering him to stand down.

The explosion.

He tried to sit up and realized he was beneath a diagnostic arm. Tilting his head to the right and looking up, he could just make out a clear, plastic hood over his forehead.

“Easy.” Dr. Crusher touched a panel, and the arm retracted on both sides of the biobed, though she kept a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’ve suffered a concussion.”

“What about the others?”

“Niles is fine and I’ve already released her. Huff suffered a broken leg and a few internal injuries, but she’s on the mend.”

Daniels waited until she’d pulled away the cradle over his forehead, then pushed himself into a sitting position. “Admiral Hahn—”

Her expression changed, and he could see the sadness in her blue eyes. “I’m afraid he was DOA. I have his body in stasis.”

“What did he die of?”

“Multiple wounds covered his body, but, as I told the captain, cause of death was blunt-force trauma to his cranium. I suspect one of the falling girders is what caused it.”

But Daniels didn’t think so. “I have to speak to the captain,” he said as he swung his feet around to get off the bed—and abruptly grabbed the edges of the biobed to support himself. The floor tilted and his stomach lurched into his throat. “Oh—wow—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Crusher said as Nurse Ogawa moved up beside her and the two of them steadied him. “I’m ordering bed rest for you for at least a day.”

He smiled. “I feel like I did after that first night of my honeymoon.” He shook his head, blinking. “Siobhan wanted to try Romulan ale.”

“I hear field medics use the stuff for disinfectant.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “I’ve also heard you can clean fuel injectors with it.” She pulled a tricorder from her lab coat pocket and pointed it at Daniels. “I’ve given you a mild painkiller for the headache. Trust me, when it wears off, you’ll want to be off your feet.”

“I can’t—” Daniels put a hand to his forehead. The blood was gone, as was the cut, but the bruise beneath was still very much present. “I have to investigate the explosion.” He remembered something else and fixed his gaze to hers. “Did the hull collapse?”

“It did not, Mr. Daniels.” Captain Picard neared the biobed. Daniels hadn’t heard the door to sickbay open. Had he been there all along? “Mr. La Forge was able to reroute power and keep the shield stable.” Picard looked at Crusher. “I need to speak to Mr. Daniels.”

“He needs rest, Jean-Luc.” She gave him a stern but friendly glare before she and Ogawa moved away to tend other patients.

“Sir, I—” Daniels began, already feeling the heat rise to his face as he remembered Riker’s obvious irritation with him. He was sure the commander had already given the captain an earful about his strange behavior, since it was obvious no one else had seen the imposter shift his features.

But Picard held up his hand. “Who did you believe you saw?”

“Jonathan DeNoux,” Daniels said, keeping his voice as low as Picard’s. “I worked with him on the Rigel III outpost.”

“The factory explosion.”

Daniels’s eyes widened. He was surprised the captain knew about that. “Yes, sir. He and I were able to piece together the bomb used and trace it back to its source. Later he was posted on board the Odyssey.” He swallowed. “I knew he was dead.”

“And you believed you saw him when you looked at Mr. Abidah?”

Daniels nodded. He narrowed his eyes as he recalled other things from that hazy moment. “I realize it was dark, but I noticed things about him that didn’t seem right. His uniform was in bad shape.” He looked at Picard and touched his own sleeve. “It was dirtied and torn.”

“There was debris everywhere, Lieutenant.”

“I know that, sir. But how is it his face was untouched? I mean, I noticed I was sweating with the heat. I could feel my uniform sticking to me. I touched the perspiration on my forehead. And I was bleeding. All of us were knocked about in some way. Commander Riker and Snowden as well.” Daniels shook his head. “But not this Abidah. His face was perfectly smooth. No perspiration, not a mark on his skin. His uniform looked as if he’d been through what we’d experienced, yet he didn’t look any the worse.”

Picard narrowed his own eyes at Daniels. “You noticed all this—with a head wound?”

Daniels blinked. He sat back. He wasn’t sure if it was skepticism or outright disbelief he’d heard in the captain’s voice. It hadn’t occurred to him that anything he’d seen could be attributed to the knock to his head. But from the look in the captain’s eyes, that was exactly what his superior had been thinking.

Or suspected.

“Sir—I—”

“Lieutenant.” Picard almost smiled. “If you can notice all those things while suffering from a concussion, that’s extraordinary.” The captain’s expression darkened. “I need you to re-create the explosion on deck twenty-seven just as you did the one in Antwerp. Mr. La Forge had begun a sensor sweep of the base once we came out of warp, before we were fired on. He was able to get the external sensors back online before the explosion. I want you to go over that data and report to me anything suspicious. Mr. Travec is already at work. As soon as the blast area is secured, I want it examined. I want to know why Admiral Hahn was there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Picard moved to leave, then paused. He turned back with a grim expression. “As of an hour ago, President Jaresh-Inyo declared a state of emergency, and he’s ordered the Enterprise to remain at Starbase 375 in a defense posture. I’ll be coordinating with Lieutenant Huff on security strategies so we can implement any new security measures decided upon by Starfleet Command.” He put a hand on the biobed. “Commander Snowden and I are going on the assumption the bomb was placed there by a Changeling, and that Changeling is still on this station. There have been scattered reports of people seeing the same person simultaneously in two different locations.” He gave a short sigh. “But that doesn’t explain what it was you saw on deck twenty-seven.”

“Sir—” Daniels swallowed. The daunting task before him of investigating the bomb unsettled him. His life until three weeks ago had seemed so sedate.

Easy.

Well, I wanted adventure. Siobhan always told me to watch out what I wished for.

Picard looked at him.

“Sir, might I suggest that as an added measure to the blood screenings, we test DNA as well? I read the reports on the Changeling who used vials of blood to get through screening.”

“But that Changeling was actually using Addison’s blood. A DNA scan wouldn’t have proven anything.”

“It might have,” Daniels said. “If the blood drawn was immediately analyzed, I’ll bet an anticoagulant would have been detected. Basic screening only allows for a small sample to be drawn and then a pause to see if it returns to a Founder’s gelatinous state. Testers always take blood from relatively the same area. Mix it up. Take the test a step further and run an analysis on it. Make sure that person is who they say they are. And make sure the blood’s clean.”

Crusher stepped closer. “Adding that step wouldn’t be difficult. Just have the tricorders access the personnel database on the Enterprise.”

Picard looked at Crusher, but Daniels wasn’t sure if he liked the idea or was perturbed the doctor had intruded on what was a private conversation.

At last he looked at Daniels. “Make it so. Coordinate with Dr. Crusher and Lieutenant Huff once the tricorders are ready.” He looked past him to the doctor. “Is Mr. Daniels fit for duty?”

“He should rest.”

But Picard shook his head. “No time. I need physical proof the bomb was of Dominion manufacture so I can send it to Admiral Leyton. If you find more of the same organic material, then that’s proof enough that we have a Changeling hiding on this starbase, or possibly on this ship.” He looked directly at Daniels. “I want the Changeling found. It will pay for the death of Admiral Hahn.”

The captain turned and left sickbay.

Daniels cleared his throat. “I guess he and the admiral were good friends.”

Crusher nodded. “He’s taking it personally.” She checked her tricorder again as she scanned him. “We all are. First they attack Earth. They knock out Earth’s defense system. Now they hit a Starfleet facility, killing an admiral.” She closed up the tricorder and set it down. “I’m still sticking to my original prognosis. You need rest. Try and take it easy for the first day or so.”

He nodded absently, his gaze still fixed on the door where the captain had disappeared.

Daniels had a good idea he knew what was troubling Picard. It was the same question he’d been asking himself since finding the body in the wreckage.

According to Snowden, as well as the sensor logs of the starbase, Admiral Hahn had disappeared.

To where?

Repair was postponed on the damaged decks until after the new security routines devised by Starfleet Security could be implemented. Upon their second meeting, Daniels and Abidah talked, with Daniels doing most of the talking and apologizing for holding a phaser on him. Once he’d seen the lieutenant without the assorted dust and in better lighting, he could see the man’s face was different from his deceased friend’s.

But he could also understand how he’d confused the two in that situation. The resemblance was striking, though their voices were light-years apart in timbre. Jonathan had had a deep, soft voice, whereas Jonas’s voice was midrange. His accent was also different. Something from Earth.

South African?

He also took the doctor’s advice and slept most of the first day.

Unfortunately, Travec wasn’t satisfied with the doctor’s recommendations and ordered Daniels back to the holodeck. But Daniels continued to monitor the security staff assignments in his “free” time. He noticed Huff coordinated directly with Abidah, and after a brief training session with Crusher on how to use the DNA sequencing with the new hypos, she joined Abidah on the starbase, along with Lynch, Niles, and Ryerson, to teach the starbase security personnel.

Testers were set up at turbolifts, deck accesses, and public terminals. Communications were screened out and into the starbase, and all extracurricular activities were overstaffed with Starfleet security personnel.

Some events were simply canceled as Snowden took charge of the station, Leyton having promoted him to captain.

In Daniels’s opinion, things were too closed in. Too—

Stifled.

If there was a Changeling somewhere on the station, the security was too—as Sage mumbled a few times—in-your-face. Obvious. It wouldn’t take a genius to know how to avoid it and hide out. But Commander—rather, Captain Snowden seemed to have his own ideas of how to handle things, and didn’t want to hear any suggestions from anyone else.

Even Huff had tried to help but received a brush-off.

But Daniels had enough to keep him busy.

And the busier he became, the more confusing the events of their arrival appeared to be.

Barclay’s initial analysis of the sensor scans once they were out of warp registered Admiral Hahn’s life signs via his combadge. La Forge was able to pinpoint him as being on deck ten. That was before the starbase fired on them in a panic.

Daniels, Barclay, and Sage merged that data with what they had about the explosion and its aftermath, working long hours on the data retrieved from the starbase sensors, as well as the Enterprise. They managed to outline a rough wire-frame image of the explosion, extrapolated from the sensor logs. But that was all they had. Just the exterior. Even when the imaging system rendered a high-resolution simulation for the amphitheater, it didn’t show much more than what the image recordings did.

Except for—

“Computer, pause program.”

The image of the blast froze.

“What is it?” Sage said.

“Did you see something, Lieutenant?” Travec said from his position near the amphitheater.

Daniels frowned. “Replay time index 4456, one-tenth speed.”

The image restarted much slower. Daniels stood and moved to the amphitheater. He moved into the image and pointed to an area of space just to the right of the starbase—in the same location as the image they’d seen earlier. “That.”

Above his finger was a slight distortion in the star pattern behind the starbase. It appeared only for a second and then disappeared. Daniels looked at Barclay and then at Sage. “Did you two see that?”

“Yes.” Barclay went to the console beside Sage and touched a few controls.

Travec turned an angry snout toward Sage. “You didn’t dump the buffers—again.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sage said, snarling. His ears twitched forward and back. “I did dump the buffers, and reset the arrays. It’s all on the ship’s log, you pig-nosed, stumpy-fingered—”

“Sage,” Daniels said as sternly as he could. “Take a walk.”

The Fijorian continued to glare at Travec but stood and left the holodeck.

Daniels went back to the console and checked the logs. “Sage is right, Commander—he did as you instructed.” He looked back at the image. “But this is the same image.”

“No…” Barclay said as he watched the console’s monitor. “Not really.”

“What is it?” Daniels looked to his right at Barclay.

“Well, it has the same effect as a residual image, yet the sensor logs for that time index and location are reading a variance in holographic subtext.”

Daniels blinked. “Say that again?”

“Well, it’s actually not as confusing as it sounds. That anomaly has the same imaging pattern as the DS9 image did a few days ago.”

“Meaning it’s residual.”

“Yes,” Barclay said. “But the sensors detect something in that area of space for at least two milliseconds.”

“A cloaked ship?”

“Not unless it’s a holographic cloaked ship.”

“So,” Travec said as he looked from Daniels to Barclay, “is there something there or not? Or is it just feedback from the junction’s subprocessors? There’s bound to be some sort of glitch in the matrix—we are technically running this on a hot-wired system.”

Daniels pursed his lips and turned back to the image as it looped. “Do the logs show any other area where that same anomaly shows up?”

Barclay checked. “None.”

“But it happens two seconds before the blast.”

“Yes.”

“I’d run a diagnostic and then do a test sweep of the same area. See if you pick up anything now.” Daniels looked back down at the time indexes in the mainframe logs. Time logs.

“Barclay, do we have copies of the starbase communication logs?”

“Yes, we do. You think there’s something on them that might explain this ghost?”

Sage stepped back into the room. “I’ve walked, sir.” He glanced at Travec. “I apologize for becoming angry, Commander.”

“Back to work,” Travec said, and Daniels was happy the Tellarite left it at that.

“Sage.” Daniels glanced at Travec. “Pull up the starbase communications logs and see if you see anything…odd about them.”

Sage nodded and sat down in the chair Daniels had vacated.

“What is it you hope t’Saiga might find, Lieutenant?” Travec asked as he moved to stand beside Daniels.

Daniels crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure yet. It was just an idea—something Sage said.” He moved to stand in front of the amphitheater, then walked into it, the holo-emitters compensating for his physical presence, making him a part of the image, surrounding him with it.

He narrowed his eyes at the image to the right of the starbase. He stood there, alone in the image of space, watching the small area of stars wink and shift, over and over as the image did a six-frame loop.

“Hey, Pádraig,” Sage said from the console. “Take a look at this.”

Daniels left the amphitheater and came around Sage’s left to look at the monitor. “What is this?”

Sage pursed his lips. “I have to say the thing’s been butchered.”

Travec neared the console. “Butchered? You mean it’s been tampered with?”

“Butchered. Seriously. The internal communications network runs on a rotational dump to several tera-stations on the secondary computer core, then it compresses that data after a year where it can be batch-uploaded and filed into the Federation’s main computer database for remote access.”

Daniels turned his head slowly to look at Sage, keeping his expression stoic. “Sage, what is it in our relationship that makes you think I understood a word of that? Me security, you engineer.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Travec said.

Sage chuckled, his ears twitching. “Okay, it’s like this. All communications in and out, as well as internally, are logged into the secondary computer core. This tracks everything, from passengers, cargo, business transactions, and the movement of Starfleet personnel. And that information is eventually stored at Starfleet.”

“Precisely,” Travec commented.

“Well, someone’s been at this thing in the past three weeks. And I mean taken a sledgehammer to it. It’s like they didn’t even bother cleaning up after themselves, or even tried to be neat.”

“You have missing logs? Holes?”

“No.” Sage pursed his lips. “I got empty logs. Whoever did this knows his way around a communications network, and they simply went into certain logs, erased, and then left the time stamps.”

“Why?”

Barclay spoke up. “Oh, that’s easy. Because in a cursory scan to detect a disruption in communications, the computer would think that all the logs were still there.”

“That’s sort of devious,” Daniels said, moving to the chair beside Sage. “Who would want certain communication logs deleted?” He tapped a few panels and pulled up the time index. Empty logs appeared in red, while the others were white. “Its only been happening since July first.”

Sage nodded slowly. “When Snowden showed up.”

“What are you insinuating, Fijorian?” Travec said.

“I’m only making an observation, sir,” Sage said, tight-lipped.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Barclay said as he put his hands on the back of the console. “Captain Snowden.”

“No,” Sage said, glancing from Daniels to Barclay. “Look, I don’t know why. I just get all creeped out when he’s around. Like he’s watching me or something.”

“Well, you are kinda funny-looking,” Daniels said as he started copying the time log oddity to the dump file Muñiz and Stevens had created on the secondary computer core. He was making copies of everything they found. And making it harder for someone to erase.

He blinked. Now where had that paranoid thought come from?

Barclay handed Daniels a padd. “Here’s the components list you asked for. Everything’s there. Eight of the eleven pieces of the Dominion puzzle.”

Daniels took the padd, thumbed the bottom to make the image scroll down. “Yeah…”

“You don’t look happy.”

“I’m not.” He glanced at Barclay. “Oh don’t worry. It’s a good job. But it’s all too different. Too—” He struggled to find the word. “There’s too much of a variance in percentage. The detected amounts are too different.”

“All the levels of component percentages are within tolerance levels, Mr. Daniels. We are exactly where we should be for a Dominion bomb.”

Daniels stifled another yawn. “But that’s the problem—the variance is too different from the first bomb. It’s sloppy work. We have the right chemicals—the right components, both mineral and organic—but the formula is jiked up,” he said, borrowing one of Sage’s words.

He yawned again.

Travec puffed up his chest. “Mr. Daniels, you have been neglecting your sleep patterns once again—”

“Only because you keep yanking us all back in here,” Sage said under his breath.

“—therefore I suggest you retire and sleep the required seven hours.”

Sage glanced at Daniels. “You heard the pig. And you’re drinking too much coffee—”

“I don’t have a choice. I’m supposed to meet Data in art sciences in—” he checked the console’s chronometer. “Vloek! Now. I gotta go.” He grabbed up the padd Barclay had given him and headed for the door.

Sleep. It’s overrated, right?

CHAPTER
7

The Proud Man’s Contumely

“…Absolutely intolerable,” Snowden said. He peered out at the bridge crew of the Enterprise from the viewscreen, his hands balled into fists. Behind him was displayed the Starfleet sigil, not the blue and white symbol of the Federation.

Another of his subtle changes.

Picard sat up straight in his chair. “Captain.” It was still hard for him to address Snowden as as captain. Somehow on this man the title became a mockery, not an honor. “I’m still unsure what your objections are.”

“The use of DNA testing. How many times do I have to request that you stop?”

“Obviously a lot,” Riker muttered to Picard’s right.

Picard ignored his first officer, though not caring whether or not Snowden heard him. “The new security measures implemented by Starfleet Security do state it is up to the CO’s discretion as to what sort of measures above and beyond the blood screenings are used. I feel the suggestions made by Mr. Daniels were well founded. As you know, I and my crew had a Changeling on board this vessel not long ago. Blood screenings can be faked.”

Snowden’s face twisted up into a look of aggravation. “But I specifically asked you not to waste efforts and staff on the DNA testing.”

Picard glanced at Riker before answering. “Captain, why would you ask us to decrease measures when it’s been made obvious we have a shape-shifter among us?”

“I am not asking you to decrease the measures.” Snowden’s expression soured. “I’m telling you the added efforts at DNA screening are a waste. You said so yourself that the Addison shape-shifter had used vials of the real Addison’s blood—how would DNA testing be an advantage?”

Picard opened his mouth to answer, to tell Snowden of Daniels’s suggestion that if pirated blood were being used, then an anticoagulant compound could be detected.

But something made him pause. Something at gut level told him not to divulge this information, because apparently it was something Snowden’s own security people hadn’t thought of. Instead he smiled and said, “Peace of mind, Captain. And because it was a recommendation by Lieutenant Daniels.”

“Daniels? He’s not even a member of your crew. He’s part of Commander Travec’s team, isn’t he? What does Travec think about this? I want the DNA testing ended, Captain.”

That did it. Picard reached down and straightened his uniform jacket as he straightened in his chair. This had gone on long enough. “Captain Snowden, the Enterprise is under my command. The welfare and health of the crew is my responsibility. Mr. Daniels’s suggestion to protect this crew was approved by me, and I will not cease the DNA testing of any persons entering and exiting the ship to the station.”

Snowden’s expression went blank, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Daniels was to be assigned to us upon your arrival, along with Travec and t’Saiga. I suggest those three take up their posts here. I’ll arrange to have their things transferred.”

Picard caught Riker bristling in his peripheral vision. He too felt the immediate urge to disobey the captain, especially on such a ridiculous request. But there was something else niggling at him, a feeling of danger. He’d been reading Daniels’s and t’Saiga’s findings about the explosion, and had taken under advisement the security guard’s suspicion at the lack of hard evidence of a Dominion involvement.

Not to mention the runaround he was getting at Starfleet Command after he requested a communication with Captain Sisko. That had put both him and Riker on a higher alert.

Sisko was the only one he truly trusted right now—at least on Earth. And now he was as unavailable as the Federation President.

“I think it would be in our best interests if he and his team remained on the Enterprise. Their equipment is integrated with our own.” He glanced at Riker, arching his eyebrows for any input.

Riker nodded to Snowden. “I think Admiral Leyton would want that, Captain.”

“And while we’re talking about security,” Picard said as he stood, straightened his jacket, and took a step forward. “I would like a status update on when Travec’s team and my security and engineering people can investigate the blast site. Without retrieving samples to look for a key—”

“The site will be made available to you tomorrow,” Snowden said abruptly. “Snowden out.”

Picard frowned at the blank viewscreen for a few seconds before he turned. “Number One, Data, with me.” He moved into his ready room.

Once inside, the two officers stood in front of his desk as Picard moved behind it to his chair. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this.”

Riker nodded. “I don’t like Snowden.”

“Neither do I,” Data said and gave a half smile. “Unfortunately, he has become our only contact with Starfleet.”

“Yes,” Picard said as he picked up a padd from his desk and glanced at it. “Five messages to Leyton, all of them unanswered.” He set it back down. “Have either of you noticed anything unusual since we’ve been here?”

“Besides the fact that we have had only the single attack and nothing more in nearly two weeks?” Data said. “I have noticed there has been no Dominion invasion as well.”

“And I don’t think there will be.” Picard moved his chair out. “Number One, get Travec’s team ready for tomorrow, and tell Geordi to get his best team. I plan on going over that blast site with a fine tooth comb.” He looked directly at Data and Riker. “No one else seems interested in how Admiral Hahn died—not even Leyton—but I’ll be damned if I discover his death was meaningless and do nothing about it.”

Daniels stood in the blast center of the bomb on deck twenty-seven—nearly two weeks after it was detonated. The smell of singed ozone was still strong, as well as the same unidentifiable pungent odor he’d noticed in Antwerp. Evidence the Dominion had been at work here.

Travec, Sage, and Porter had coordinated with La Forge in gathering data, checking structural integrity, comparing previous engineering records with current ones.

Data worked with several of the starbase security staff, along with Huff and Lynch. They were busy using scanners to record the interior of the deck, so that later Daniels and Sage could use the data in the amphitheater to re-create type, velocity, expansion, and angle. From there he’d be able to pinpoint everything to within a micron.

But it was here, inside the center, where Daniels felt he did his best work. Armed with a tricorder and a pair of tweezers, he knelt over a deep gouge in the flooring. The area around it was scorched and mostly melted.

As he knelt down he noticed similarities between this damage and the one in Antwerp. Of course a conference hall was by no means a starbase, but it was the only thing he had to work with.

With the tricorder out he changed the frequencies, doing methodical scans for the one organic thing he needed.

“Looking for the key?” Abidah said as he knelt down beside Daniels.

He nodded. “That among other things.”

“Any luck?”

Daniels checked the tricorder. “No. Not so much. But then it took several days of analyzing debris to find the key the first time in Antwerp. And then we found it only by a fluke.” He looked at Abidah, noticed the man’s black eyes. “I’d been scanning for organic residue, as most of the people caught in the blast—” He stopped and sighed. “There wasn’t much left.”

“So you actually found it in the lab?”

“Yes.” Daniels started his tricorder again as he concentrated on the outer ring of the indentation. “So far all the other elements are present, though in trace amounts.”

“But it’s the Dominion, right?”

“The evidence might point in that direction,” Daniels said. “But I’m not convinced yet.” He watched Abidah. Was it his own cynicism or was this young man overly enthusiastic about finding the key? He blurted out, “I’m still looking for the second bomb.”

He didn’t know why he said it—maybe it was to test a theory he’d been rolling around in his mind, ever since he saw the botched communication logs. Only a few people actually had access to the sort of terminal codes needed to do that kind of snipping.

The admiral, the commander-turned-captain, and the chief of operations.

The lieutenant’s reaction was interesting. Instead of looking simply surprised or impressed as most people had when he and Sage presented this theory, Abidah looked irritated.

“Two bombs? Nobody said anything about two bombs.”

“It’s just a theory.” Daniels narrowed his eyes as he watched the lieutenant, deciding against telling him the truth, that there had been only one.

Abidah gave a short sigh, excused himself, and left.

Daniels pursed his lips. That was odd.

Data entered the area, his tricorder in hand. “We have completed the scans of the immediate area. I suggest continuing out to perhaps twenty meters in all directions so that we can give the computer full parameters.”

“I agree.” He held his tricorder over the darker, larger samples of charred—something—and frowned at his readings. “That’s interesting.”

“What?” Data asked.

But Daniels was shaking his head. “I don’t want to say yet. I’m eager to get back and start analyzing it, but I need to take a look at the areas near the hull damage.”

Data nodded. “Do not forget our scheduled session tonight.” The android beamed. “I have something to show you.”

Daniels nodded slowly. “I’ll be there.”

Once Data left, Daniels gathered his things and picked his way through the beams of debris and chunks of ceiling to the farthest wall. The placement of the bomb was interesting to him, as it seemed to make no sense.

Bombs were normally placed where they wouldn’t be detected and where they would cause the greatest damage. Or if there was a specific target involved, as there obviously had been in Antwerp, a bomb was specially designed, placed, and calculated for a contained space.

Wide dispersion.

Controlled precision.

And on cursory examination, this bomb achieved neither of those objectives. It had been placed too far away from the reactor to actually do any damage to it, in a room closest to the exterior walls of the starbase where it had caused hull damage. No vital systems were around it. This was one of the least populated areas of the starbase.

He stood in the center of the area, his hands on his hips as he looked around. Something was very wrong with all this: the blackout on Earth, the subsequent firing on the Enterprise that conveniently put her sensors out of commission.

And the admiral’s death.

“What systems were here that would possibly interest the admiral?” he muttered aloud.

“Perhaps he was checking on the reactor.”

The voice startled Daniels. He had his phaser in his hand and bent into a defensive crouch in a fraction of a second.

Captain Snowden stood nearby, his hands out to his sides. He wore a formal uniform, more fitting for a Starfleet captain than the commander of a starbase. He also looked tired, as if he hadn’t been getting much sleep. His movements were jerky, less fluid than Daniels had noticed before.

“Captain,” Daniels said. “I didn’t realize you were down here. It might be better if you remained on deck twenty-six. Safer.”

“This is my starbase, Lieutenant, and I’ll go where I wish to go.”

This answer seemed abrupt and uncalled for, but Daniels held his tongue as he reholstered his phaser. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken.” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked around. “You are Lieutenant Patrick Daniels, right? The security officer on Travec’s bomb team?”

Daniels nodded, not bothering to correct the man’s pronunciation of his name.

“Why are you back here? Isn’t the blast back that way?”

“I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about bomb detonation, Captain,” Daniels said. He hadn’t meant for it to sound condescending, but that was sure as hell the way it came out.

“It doesn’t take an expert to figure that out, Mr. Daniels. A meter that way is where the worst damage is. Which is why I ask again—why are you back here?”

Something in his tone alarmed Daniels, and he made sure he had his phaser secured. “I’m looking at all angles.”

“Are you looking for another bomb?”

Daniels started. “Sir?”

“Another bomb. You told Abidah there were two bombs at Antwerp. Why wasn’t that knowledge made accessible to key members of the Federation? Especially Starfleet? And just because there isn’t a second bomb here doesn’t mean this isn’t the work of the Dominion.”

“Sir, I never said definitively that there were two bombs, nor have I ever said this wasn’t the work of the Dominion. But I have my doubts.”

“You will tell Picard this is the work of the Dominion,” Snowden said as he abruptly advanced on Daniels. He was several centimeters taller and loomed over Daniels, who took a few steps back.

“Sir…” Daniels swallowed. In all his years of service he had never been in a situation where he felt threatened by a fellow Starfleet officer.

Until now.

“Captain Snowden, I can’t lie if I don’t feel there really is a Dominion threat here. And as the evidence stands—” He held up his hands, his tricorder in one, the other empty and free to go for his phaser if need be. “I don’t see any valid connection other than circumstantial.”

Snowden took another step closer. Daniels stepped back, aware that the starbase’s newly repaired bulkhead was less than a centimeter behind him. “I think you’ve done enough damage here, interfering with the security measures of this installation. Wasting my time and Captain Picard’s. You were supposed to be under my command, not his.” He took another step forward. “But you used your special skills to stay on board the Enterprise.”

Daniels narrowed his eyes in reaction to something Snowden had said. “Your command, sir? I thought I was supposed to be under Hahn’s command.”

Snowden balled his hands into fists. “I was told you removed a padd from this area after the blast. That was evidence, and I want it returned.”

“Padd?” Daniels looked away. His memories of that day were still blurry, which Dr. Crusher had said would happen. He remembered seeing Abidah’s face shift, but even that had moved more into the realm of dreams. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t remember—”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Snowden took another step closer.

Daniels bumped into the bulkhead. He fought the urge to draw his phaser.

“Is there a problem here?” came a familiar and arrogant voice from behind Snowden.

Snowden stiffened, though his gaze continued to linger on Daniels. “No, Commander Travec. I was having a word with Lieutenant Daniels.” Snowden stepped back. “Remember what I said, Lieutenant.” He turned and picked his way out of the area.

Once he was gone, Travec moved closer to Daniels. “Are you all right?”

“Travec.” Daniels shook his head and put his hand to his chest. He felt his heart thumping against his chest. “I’ve never been so happy to see you.”

“What was he upset about? Was he threatening you?”

Daniels took in several deep breaths and stared at Travec. During his weeks with the Tellarite he’d never heard the creature show or even pretend to care about anybody else but himself. So he was more than surprised to think Travec was actually worried.

But…“I’m not sure,” Daniels said. “It felt like a threat. He seemed very upset that I was under the impression this wasn’t a closed case of Dominion involvement.”

Travec nodded. “You are sure of that assessment?”

Daniels nodded. “I want to look at what we’ve gathered today, go over it with you, and then present it to Captain Picard. Because honestly, Travec, I’m not sure this isn’t more paranoia than truth.”

Sifting through the debris took a lot longer than expected, and it was late in the day before Travec’s team returned to the Enterprise along with La Forge’s engineers.

Daniels and Sage worked long enough in the holodeck to upload the data before Daniels stifled a third yawn. Even Sage looked droopy as his ears sagged down to either side of his head.

Calling it a night, Daniels yawned for the fifth time as he made his way to his guest quarters. He’d cut his own participation in painting short due to lack of concentration, and Data had agreed. The android had also seemed oblivious to Daniels’s presence, as his Spot painting was now consuming him.

As it should.

Though Data’s remark about practicing making things perfect had sounded odd.

“Huff to Daniels.”

He paused. What was Huff doing up so late? She was alpha shift. He tapped his combadge. “This is Daniels. Althea—what are you doing up?”

“Looking for Ensign Lynch. Have you seen him?”

Daniels thought about the big burly ensign. That was a man that would be hard to misplace. “No, I haven’t seen him since lunch today. You check with the computer?”

“The computer says he’s in his quarters, but when I checked, there was no answer. He was going to fill in for one of the beta-shift ensigns but hasn’t shown up.” She sighed. “And I know he seems to like hanging around with you or Porter.”

That was true. Which wasn’t bad. He liked Tim.

“If you see him, tell him he’s in hot water.”

Daniels smiled. Yawned. He opened the door to his quarters, a place he believed would be temporary, and stepped inside. “Lights.”

He took in the overturned chairs, the uniforms pulled from the closet and dumped on the floor, the picture of Siobhan facedown near the bathroom, and the overwhelming feeling he wasn’t alone.

His training kicked in and he had his phaser in his hand—but not fast enough.

Someone knocked at his right hand, causing him to release the weapon. It fell and skittered across the floor toward the foot of the bed. Daniels heard the shuffle of a boot on the carpet, pinpointed its location, and bent down to avoid being grabbed or struck. He then balled his right hand into a fist, pushed it into his left palm and drove his right elbow hard to the right and behind him. It struck something solid, and Daniels was pleased to hear the sound of wind being knocked out of his opponent’s lungs.

He glimpsed the intruder bent over—and wearing a Starfleet uniform. So as not to lose momentum, he turned to the right and brought his left knee up hard and into the other’s face.

Stepping back, he tapped his combadge. “Daniels to securi—”

The intruder charged, tackling him and forcing him backward into the bulkhead. The impact forced the air from his own lungs as the back of his head hit the metal. Stunned, he gasped for air as he tried to avoid the blow he knew was coming. The intruder’s fist struck his cheek, jarring his teeth. Stars glittered in front of his eyes before he dropped, his back sliding down the wall, and his opponent connected his next blow with the bulkhead.

Daniels tried to take in a deep breath as he pushed himself up and drove his shoulder into the intruder’s midsection. The intruder fell backward with Daniels on top of him.

He saw his phaser to his right, just out of arm’s reach. But when he looked back at his opponent, ready to strike again, he froze.

He was looking into the face of Ensign Lynch.

The pause was enough for Lynch to deliver another stinging blow to the side of Daniels’s head. The force knocked him off the security guard’s chest, and he hit the foot of his bed. He tried to reach for the phaser, but Lynch turned and grabbed it.

Daniels watched as Lynch stood and scrambled away backward, the phaser held out in front of him. Daniels was breathing hard, and his chest was on fire, not to mention his head ached…again.

He watched Lynch move back, his eyes wide, his head moving from side to side like a caged animal. If there was one thing Daniels was certain of, this was not Timothy Lynch. Yes, he’d hit his head again, but he wasn’t suffering from a concussion this time.

This was a shape-shifter.

“Where is it?” the imposter Lynch said as he shook the phaser at Daniels.

“Where is what?” Daniels moved slowly into a standing position, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. “What is it you’re looking for?”

But even as they stood facing one another, Daniels found himself studying every nuance of the shape-shifter’s appearance. There were subtle differences between this man and the real Lynch, particularly in height and build.

Tim Lynch wasn’t a small man. He towered over Daniels, standing as tall as Lieutenant Commander Worf back on DS9. He was thicker and stronger than Daniels. There was no way Daniels should have been able to force the real Lynch backward. Not from the position he’d been in against that bulkhead.

“—Huff to Daniels, can you hear me—”

He blinked and tried to tap his combadge to respond. He struck his uniform. He glanced down at his chest. His combadge was missing. He looked to Lynch, who clasped it in his left hand.

Lynch’s face blurred, changed, reshaped itself into a familiar visage—one Daniels looked at every day in the mirror.

His own.

CHAPTER
8

Something After Death

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. Daniels wasn’t supposed to be back yet—he’d checked the Enterprise logs repeatedly. Daniels always spent an hour in the art sciences studio with Data.

I didn’t have time.

And now—

He took in a deep breath as he held the phaser on the security officer. He’d never actually fought before—not real physical fighting. He’d moved purely on instinct, intent on subduing the officer before fleeing. He had never meant for Daniels to see him.

And even now he’d been unable to subdue him.

This wasn’t the sort of reaction he’d expected from someone as soft-looking at this man—though he knew looks could be deceiving.

First priority had changed. He needed to get out of here. The padd wasn’t in Daniels’s quarters, and it appeared Daniels hadn’t remembered it. If it was gone, maybe he didn’t have anything to worry about.

But how to incapacitate Daniels? If he fired the phaser, then the entire ship would know. He’d be discovered.

He tilted his head to the left, shuffling off this image and putting on a different one. A mirror of what stood before him—minus the blood on Daniels’s lips and left temple.

The change had the desired effect. Daniels’s eyes widened and he took a step back.

He thumbed a control on the phaser, then glanced down at the reading. He couldn’t remember which setting was for stun and which killed. He’d rarely had the need to use a weapon.

But if he could just stun Daniels—

The door to the quarters opened behind him.

He turned.

“Huff—don’t—”

He saw her step in, remembered her short dark hair, saw her stop and look at him, and then at Daniels. He saw her raise her phaser, her attention moving quickly between the two of them as if she were trying to decide which one was real.

She made a decision and turned it on him.

“Don’t shoot!” Daniels said. “He’s not a—”

He fired his own phaser at Daniels. The officer ducked out of the way, but not fast enough to avoid a hit to his left shoulder.

Huff fired her phaser.

But he was already moving, blind panic pressing him forward as he turned and raised his phaser at her.

He fired.

She fired again—too late.

He watched as her chest caught fire and she fell backward.

Sirens called out above him, alerting the crew to phaser fire. In a matter of seconds the corridors would be full of Starfleet officers.

He looked at the downed woman, glanced back at the slowly moving Daniels. Within seconds he shifted his outer appearance again, moved past the inert security officer, and left through the door.

To catch him, they’d have to find him.

“This is unacceptable.” Picard set the padd harshly down on the semicircular table in the observation lounge. The senior officers sat before him as Starbase 375 loomed silently through the lounge’s windows. “I have a dead security chief, another wounded, and two more recovering from severe bericol poisoning in sickbay.”

Riker frowned. “Bericol?”

“It’s a street narcotic,” Crusher said in a soft voice. “Cardassian in origin. When less than a CC is injected, the user experiences intense euphoria. But when more is taken, it causes loss of consciousness and severe headache, but no permanent injury.”

“Who were the two injected?”

“Ensigns Lynch and Kao. They were on deck ten, administering blood screenings.”

“Apparently,” Troi said, “they were approached by a young officer who offered to help.” She shrugged. “They were hit with hyposprays.”

“The Changeling then took the identity and combadge of Ensign Lynch, ransacked Lieutenant Porter’s quarters, Mr. t’Saiga’s, and then Lieutenant Daniels’s,” Data said.

“And that’s when Mr. Daniels walked in on him,” Picard said. He straightened his jacket and looked at each of them. “What I want to know is why. He was looking for something. Something he desperately wanted back if he’s willing to risk exposure.”

Riker looked over at Data. “Internal sensors show anything?”

Data shook his head. “Only instances of the Changeling as Ensign Lynch entering and exiting the designated quarters.”

“Anything from Daniels?” Mr. La Forge asked.

“Not yet,” Crusher said. “He said the Changeling wanted to know where the padd was.”

“Padd?” Picard said. “What padd?”

Everyone answered him with a shake of the head.

“Daniels wasn’t sure what he meant either,” Crusher said. “I want him to rest for a few days, preferably tonight and tomorrow in sickbay.”

“Agreed.” Picard looked at Data. “I’ve ordered security to lock down and restrict anyone wanting to leave the ship or enter it. We’re going to do a methodical blood screening and DNA matching of all crew throughout the ship and increase security on all decks with vital systems. We have a Changeling on board. Again. I want it caught and contained.” He looked at Data. “I want you to continue working with Travec’s team on the analysis. Snowden managed to delay us too long in identifying the bomb’s origin. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starting not to like being bound to this station. Dismissed.”

Everyone stood to leave but Riker, who remained in his chair beside Picard. When the room was cleared he leaned on the arm of his chair. “You really think the Changeling’s still on board?”

Picard nodded slowly as he looked at Riker. “I do, because he hasn’t gotten what he came here for. And whatever it is, we need to find it first. I also need you to get in touch with Major Kira at Deep Space 9 and see if she’s heard anything from Sisko lately. All of my attempts to contact him have been turned away—all requests and calls having to go through and be approved by Admiral Leyton.”

Riker narrowed his eyes. “You’re starting to suspect something else is wrong, same as Daniels. You’re missing pieces to the larger puzzle.”

“Maybe, Number One. But there are too many missing pieces to this puzzle not to think that the box they came in was damaged before we ever arrived.”

When Crusher finally released him from sickbay, the first place Daniels went was holodeck three to check on the status of the simulation. Porter, Sage, and Barclay had everything ready for him to examine.

He and Travec spent most of that day and the next going over the data, standing in the center of the blast, comparing it to the blast in Antwerp.

And in the end, their conclusion was not a welcome one.

Picard called a meeting with Daniels’s team, himself, Riker, Data, Snowden, and Abidah.

Travec, Daniels, Porter, Barclay, and Sage sat on the right of the observation lounge, the view of the starbase behind them. Snowden, Abidah, and two more of Snowden’s security team sat on the left. Picard sat at his usual post at the head of the table. Riker stood to the side.

Miraculously, Admiral Leyton had returned Picard’s messages, in time to listen in on the meeting. The admiral peered at them from the lounge’s monitor in the wall facing the viewport. A dark-haired young woman he introduced as Captain Erika Benteen stood beside him.

After listening to the team’s findings, Leyton steepled his fingers together in front of his chin, his elbows propped on the desk in front of him. The Golden Gate Bridge gleamed brilliantly behind him. It was early morning in San Francisco. “So your conclusion is that the bomb was not Dominion construction—even though all the chemical elements, including the unknown ones with the metamorphic material—are all present.”

Daniels nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Snowden shoved the padd away from him and looked across the table at Daniels. “You expect me to believe this?”

“But how can you say that?” Abidah said even as he held out his own padd. “It’s here. The same compounds, chemicals—even the same organic material that defines it as being a Changeling bomb.”

“Perhaps,” Leyton said in a calm tone, “if you give the reasons for your conclusions, we can understand better.”

Daniels glanced at Travec before taking in a deep breath. “Having the same ingredients doesn’t make it the same end product. The same ingredients go into cakes and brownies. The same four instruments can create many concertos—the end music has a million permutations. Yes, we detected the same ingredients, but the proportions weren’t consistent, and neither was the metamorphic material.” He licked his lips. “It looked more like a copy of the bomb in Antwerp, not the original, and as you can see in my report, that anomaly repeats itself again and again.”

Leyton picked up the padd on his desk. “Yes, so I see. There was a problem with the metamorphic material.”

“Yes, sir,” Daniels said. “In both explosions there was residue with metamorphic properties that suggest Changeling matter—but in the Antwerp bombing, the residue wasn’t diluted.”

“Diluted how?” Picard said.

Daniels looked at the captain. “When t’Saiga first analyzed it, we all thought it was a match. But looking closer that conclusion didn’t jik—” He paused and decided to correct himself and to give Sage a good kick later. “It isn’t a match. There were variances between the two substances. Variances we originally attributed to heat distortion.”

Snowden crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting for your proof, Lieutenant.”

“It’s not proof but fact, sir,” Daniels said, his voice growing more confident. “The heat levels of the Antwerp bombing were much higher—the impact of the explosion practically vaporized everything in its path. This heat level was much lower.”

Picard leaned forward. “Which means the metamorphic material found on the starbase should be less distorted than what you found in Antwerp.”

Daniels nodded. “Exactly. But it wasn’t. It was much higher—several times greater than the distortion recorded in Antwerp. So I asked the computer for alternate probable causes. It told me genetic mutation, chemical fusion, and replication.”

Everyone sat back and stared at their padds, including Abidah—but not including Snowden, who continued to glare at Daniels.

Sage spoke up. “When Mr. Daniels showed me the computer’s results, I went back in and ran a sample from this bombing and one from the Antwerp explosion. What gave us the contradictory readings was the fact that this metamorphic material had been replicated.”

“Can that be done?” Riker asked.

“Yeah, it can,” La Forge said. He clasped his fingers together in front of him and put his elbows on the table. “The material was replicated from an original source, then used on a low-level bomb. It shouldn’t have affected the variances that much—not with Changeling goop.”

Daniels said, “There was also something else that differentiated the bombs. This bomb was heat activated. The bomb in Antwerp wasn’t activated by heat, but by a version of the Changeling key that was activated by the Changeling itself, just before it vanished.”

Leyton sat forward. “What about Admiral Hahn? Have you learned why he was near ground zero?”

“No, sir,” Daniels said.

“But there is a Changeling on the starbase, if not on your ship,” Leyton said.

Picard spoke, “We’ve had sporadic reports of personnel—both on the Enterprise as well as the starbase—being in two places at one time. I’ve had two of my people attacked, as well as Mr. Daniels, though for what reason we’ve still not discovered.”

“The shape-shifters don’t need a reason,” Snowden said. “They’re here to cause havoc. And for all we know Admiral Hahn could have been working with them. Perhaps he set the bomb.”

All eyes turned to Snowden, who returned their stares defiantly. Daniels looked from him to Picard to Leyton. The thought wasn’t too far from where his own suspicions had drifted lately. There didn’t seem to be any other reason why the admiral would be at the center of things. And what about the missing logs—the empty spaces with deleted information?

Which he noticed were missing from his final report.

Picard was the first to speak. “Captain Snowden, accusations based on speculation won’t help the situation. As it stands now, we do not believe the bomb was set by a shape-shifter, and yet Eric Hahn is dead.” Picard turned his attention to Leyton. “Admiral, might I suggest that it is possible Admiral Hahn discovered the shape-shifter and it reacted by destroying the threat.”

Leyton narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“Perhaps it created a bomb as best it could to kill Hahn, but to make his death look like an accident.”

The hypothesis didn’t sound right to Daniels, and something in the captain’s tone as well as his posture told him he didn’t believe it either.

Was he stalling?

“An interesting theory,” Leyton said. “But we’ve no time for it now. Admiral Hahn’s death is a loss, and we are much sadder for it.” He straightened up in his chair. “Good job, Mr. Daniels, by you and your team. But I’m going to have to go with my instincts on this one, and call a spade a spade.”

Picard narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Admiral?”

“The bomb was set by a shape-shifter. There is enough evidence to convince the Federation in this report. Commander Travec, I’d like for you and your team to report back to Earth, where I can use your expertise in the field. Captain Picard, please prepare for departure from Starbase 375. I’ll be mobilizing the fleet in two days, and I’d like to have the Enterprise at the forefront.” He smiled. “Well done. Leyton out.”

Snowden stood, his look of smug satisfaction turning Daniels’s stomach. “It appears the admiral sides with me. We still have a shape-shifter on this vessel, or on my starbase. I would appreciate it if your people would see to its capture.” With that he left the observation lounge with his security guards and Abidah behind him.

Everyone looked stunned. Except for Travec, who looked as if he were about to explode. “How—” the Tellarite had his hooflike hands balled into fists. “How can he possibly do that? Declare this is a Dominion threat when the evidence points to a copycat?”

“I’m no more happy about this than you, Commander.” Picard stood and moved behind his chair. “Mr. Daniels, call up the schematics you included in your report.”

Daniels touched a panel on the padd before him, linked it to the lounge’s main viewer, and called up the image. Picard turned and viewed the wireframe tactical display. “We know from the starbase records and Mr. Abidah’s testimony that Hahn was here when the news of the blackout reached him and Snowden. Then the bomb was detected. According to Snowden, the admiral left him in control while he took a contingent of security guards to the area to look for the bomb. Then he abruptly disappeared from the sensors.”

“And he’s not seen again until we find him in the wreckage,” Riker said.

Picard turned to look at him, and then at the others. “So where are the security guards he took with him? There’s been no more mention of them.”

Daniels’s eyes widened. He glanced at Sage. Picard was right. And their analysis of the area uncovered only the admiral’s body and DNA.

Picard turned to face them. “Number One, I need you to go back over to the starbase and do a little more interviewing with any officers or enlisted personnel who were in ops that night. I want to question those security officers.”

“Why don’t we just ask Snowden to volunteer those names?” Riker said.

“Because I don’t believe he’ll cooperate,” Picard said. “Mr. Daniels, Mr. t’Saiga, Mr. Travec, I want to know what happened down there. Take another look at the area with as fine a scan as you can—with no interference from Snowden’s people. Mr. La Forge, take Porter and Barclay and initiate another thorough sensor sweep of the starbase.” He put his hands on the back of his chair and looked at each of them. “Eric Hahn was a good friend of mine. I owe it to him to discover how he died, and why.” He looked at the illuminated conference table, but Daniels knew the man wasn’t really seeing it. “Even if I don’t like the answer.”

CHAPTER
9

Unworthy Takes

“What exactly were you trying to prove back there?”

He watched Admiral Leyton on the viewscreen dress down Snowden as he and Snowden stood in the captain’s private office on Starbase 375. He was silently afraid he was next for a demotion.

He had failed at his mission objective. Secure the Enterprise and her captain at all costs.

The admiral had even sent a bomb specialist team to give the mission a bit of verisimilitude. And even they had drawn the conclusion that the evidence wasn’t enough.

So many mistakes. He wasn’t an explosives specialist. He wasn’t even a real soldier. But he was loyal. He believed in the admiral and what he knew was a real threat from the Dominion.

“I was trying to discredit Daniels.”

“Really?” Leyton’s tone was even. Frightening. “So you wanted to make fun of the man I endorsed? My, my, Ishmael—who are you really trying to make a fool of? Him or me?”

Snowden remained silent.

“Well, not all is lost,” Leyton said in a casual tone. “I’ll instruct Picard to depart, as I’ve already set that in motion. Before he leaves, I want Nomine to set the second bomb in the ship’s engine room—as close to the warp core as possible.”

Nomine’s eyes widened. He could feel the waves of surprise emanating from Snowden. “Sir?”

“We can’t let Picard’s attitude infect the rest of the fleet. I’m having to deal with my own little thorn here—and luckily I’ve been able to neutralize him. I intend on doing the same to the Enterprise.”

“Admiral,” Snowden said slowly, “you’re talking about destroying the Enterprise.”

“Not destroy her—simply wound her. You see, Ishmael, this is why I’m here, and you’re there. The Enterprise is the fleet’s pride and joy, and Picard has his rather colorful if not respectable service record. Now, how do you suppose the Federation itself would react if the Dominion crippled the flagship?”

Oh no. He held his tongue, bit his lower lip. This was madness. It was insane.

“Ishmael, remember what I told you about the chain of command. We must follow it at all costs. You have your orders.”

Snowden straightened in his chair. “I can see your point.”

“Get the job done, gentlemen. Your ship is on its way, Snowden. Leyton out.”

Even before the screen had darkened, Nomine was leaning forward on Snowden’s desk, his hands planted on the smooth surface. “We can’t do this, Captain. It’s unreasonable.”

“I realize it sounds like that now,” Snowden admitted. “But as Leyton has always taught me, we must all follow the chain of command. The crippling of the Enterprise will cement the Federation’s support of martial law. There will be outrage and a call to arms. I can see where the admiral is going with this.”

“But all those lives?”

Snowden glared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “If you don’t think you can carry out your mission, soldier, perhaps I should do it myself?”

“No.” He stepped back. “No, sir. I can do it. I will do it.”

“Good. Now get back on board that ship and plant the bomb. And if anyone gets in your way, eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded to his superior officer, turned on his heel, and walked through the door, his head filled with a cacophony of mixed emotions while his heart rose higher and higher into his chest and threatened to choke him.

Riker’s interviews on the starbase failed to turn up anything new. And as for discovering anything else in the rubble, Daniels and Sage did little more than upset the delicate constitution of Snowden, who did keep a discreet distance from Travec.

After a simple dinner and a light concerto concert in the lounge, Daniels met Data in the art sciences studio, his first visit in nearly a week.

As he sat down, he realized Data had asked the computer to play a pleasant violin piece—not one that he recognized. He peered with curiosity at the android, who was happily painting away at his own easel.

Though the music was relaxing, he was having trouble getting past the odd attitude of Admiral Leyton, as well as the over-the-top reactions of Snowden.

It’s like he’s overcompensating for something. Putting on a show of some kind.

And as for finding out the reason for Hahn’s presence at ground zero—

“I’m missing something.”

Data stopped painting and peered out from behind his easel. “Do you require a new paintbrush?”

Daniels realized with a start that he’d loaded his brush several minutes ago but had yet to apply it to the canvas. “I’m sorry, Data. With everything we’ve found—the logs, Admiral Hahn’s disappearance and then reappearance—we’re still no closer than we were before. I’m feeling frustrated.”

“I too am experiencing that same emotion of late.” Data set his brush down and came to stand to the right of Daniels’s easel. “Much of what I see in my mind is not what my hand is painting. This is adding to my frustration as I start over. I have now used sixty-seven canvases since starting my portrait of Spot.”

“Data.” Daniels blinked at him, his mouth open. “You’ve used how many canvases?”

“Sixty-seven. I am on my sixty-eighth tonight.”

Daniels set his brush down and moved off the stool. “Show me.” He followed Data to a stack of discarded canvases in the back of the room, neatly tucked out of the way—or as out of the way as sixty-seven twenty-by-forty canvases could be.

With a glance at the android, Daniels knelt down beside the stack and pulled one of them toward him.

An orange tabby cat leaned back in the picture, licking himself. Daniels tried not to laugh because in truth the stroke quality and precision were incredible even if the subject was a bit—quirky. He pulled another one out. Same image, only with different hues and stroke patterns. With a sigh he pulled canvases at random and looked. All of them were the same image.

An orange tabby cat, its right back leg thrust into the air, its head bent down in front.

Daniels laughed the first good laugh he’d experienced in weeks.

“Why are you laughing?” Data frowned, looking from the paintings to Daniels. “See? I have failed. These were not meant to incur humor.”

Daniels put a hand to his chest as he laughed and then wiped at the tears in his eyes. “But, Data…” He gave a wide smile. “These are great. I don’t know about meaning to make them humorous, but you did. Why—why did you pick this pose to paint?”

“It was the pose I saw in my head when I closed my eyes.” He leaned his head to his left shoulder, toward Daniels, and grinned. “It is also her favorite position.”

“Data, you do realize what Spot’s doing, right?”

And then Data joined in the laughter as Daniels picked out several canvases and lined them up against the well shelf. He couldn’t believe the android had painted a series of a cat cleaning herself.

“T’Saiga to Daniels.”

“Daniels here.”

“Do you have a sec? I have something you should see in engineering.”

“I’ll be right there,” Daniels said.

“I will continue my series.” Data turned and ambled back to his painting.

Daniels found Sage ensconced with La Forge and Travec in the far corner of engineering at one of the diagnostic consoles. The latter leaned up as he approached. “We might have found what it was the shape-shifter was looking for.”

Sage nodded from where he sat in front of the console. “About a week ago Lynch handed me a padd he said was yours. I left it in the holodeck and earlier today Travec here got frustrated with it.”

“It was broken,” Travec said, his hoofs on his hips. “I was in need of a working padd and it was—as you so often say, Mr. t’Saiga—giving me fits.”

Daniels smirked at Travec.

Sage glanced at the ceiling, his golden eyes bright, his ears twitching. “After he threw it at me, I noticed carbon scoring and something dark smeared on the back of it. So I gave it to Dr. Crusher for analysis.”

La Forge nodded. “It was blood.”

“Hahn’s blood?”

“Yes,” La Forge said. “But she also found Betazoid blood.”

Daniels frowned. “I don’t recall there being a Betazoid registered on the station. Did Crusher pull a DNA match?”

“Yep,” Sage said as he pulled up a standard Starfleet profile sheet. “Bael Nomine. A third-year cadet at Starfleet Academy. Specializing in holographic technology and a member of Red Squad.”

“Red Squad?” Daniels mouthed the name. It wasn’t familiar. “Never heard of it. Is it some special degree or classification?”

“No, it’s evidently some sort of elite cadet group,” La Forge said. “That’s what the captain knew about it.”

Daniels ran a hand through his hair. “Besides that, why would a damaged padd have this Bael Nomine’s blood on it? And why would a shape-shifter want it?”

“Might be because of this.” Sage held up a scuffed green isolinear chip.

Daniels took it and looked at it. “It’s not coded.”

“No,” La Forge said. “Which leads us to believe it’s a personal memory chip. I could see it inside the padd with my VISOR, jammed in on top of the padd’s original memory.”

“Someone hid it there.” Daniels smiled. “You think Hahn did it?”

“Well, the chip has Hahn’s blood on it,” La Forge said.

“Have you been able to read it?”

“Not yet. The chip was damaged in the explosion, though the padd was a great place to hide it.”

Daniels closed the chip in his hand. “I’m going to gamble that Hahn hid it, and the shape-shifter was after it. There’s something on this chip he doesn’t want discovered.”

“We’ll keep trying to pull the data off,” Sage said.

“Do you need the chip back?”

La Forge pursed his lips. “No, I’ve made a backup of what we’ve got. I’m afraid I damaged it in the process.”

An idea was forming in Daniels’s head—a way to bring the shape-shifter into the open. “Mind if I borrow this?”

Daniels turned left down the hall, the chip in his hand along with the damaged padd. He called ahead to Porter and Barclay, who were still conducting a full-spectrum scan of the starbase.

“Anything turn up yet?”

“No,” Porter said after a drawn-out pause. “That ghost image is back again, though. Barclay’s trying to pinpoint it.”

“I’d keep checking. I have to grab something in my quarters and I’ll be right there.” His plans were to send out a personal message to Sahvisha at the DPO to ask him about clearing data from a damaged isolinear chip, one he’d found inside of a padd. Daniels figured if the shape-shifter was watching them for it, then he’d be monitoring communications as well.

And such a request didn’t seem as suspicious as simply announcing the chip’s discovery on the Enterprise’s comm system.

And doing it from his quarters seemed appropriate. Though it didn’t leave enough time to tell Picard or Riker what he was doing.

Daniels pressed his hand to the panel. “Lights,” he said as he came in, and once again froze in the doorway.

A young man sat at his comm station, his head bent, his shoulders slumped. In his hand he held a phaser. From the half line of red light, Daniels knew it was set for stun.

He also suspected he knew who this young man was. “Cadet Third Class Bael Nomine?”

Nomine nodded slowly, but kept his head bent down. “Please, Mr. Daniels, come in.”

Daniels stepped in, and the door shut behind him. “You killed Lieutenant Huff.”

“That was an accident. She caught me off guard.”

“You’re not a shape-shifter.”

Nomine sighed and raised his eyes. His dark, Betazoid eyes were sad, red-rimmed. “No. But I can create the illusion.” He closed his eyes and his appearance melted, blurred, and changed.

He’d become Daniels’s old friend Jonathan DeNoux as he stood, the phaser trained on Daniels’s chest. “Alien technology, adapted and perfected by me.” He tapped his left temple. “All controlled from an implant in here. Little did I know it’d be used like this.”

“For murder?”

“In the service of Starfleet.”

Daniels eyed his quarters. His own phaser remained strapped to his hip, but his hands weren’t free. One held the chip, the other the damaged padd.

“Please, don’t try to run,” Nomine said, still wearing a dead man’s face. “I can read your surface thoughts. It helps me when I’m camouflaged in the field—to gauge the reactions of my marks.” He smiled. “I know you have the chip and the padd. Which is good. And I can shoot you now and the ship’s sensors won’t detect it.”

“Dampening field?” Daniels looked over at the comm station and saw a small, spherical device that he didn’t recognize. “Is that how you do it? Create the holograms that surround you?”

“No. That device is going to get me and you out of here without detection.”

Daniels did not like the sound of that.

He held up the chip and the padd. “Here they are—and you have to know the chip’s too damaged to read. We’ve tried. We did ID your blood on it. And Hahn’s.” He focused his gaze on the cadet. “He found out about you, didn’t he?”

Nomine nodded. “He was a smart man. A man I respected. He was paying attention. Checked the communications logs.”

Daniels’s eyes widened. “The missing data.” He glanced at the chip in his hand. “It’s on here, isn’t it? Proof that you were communicating with…” He frowned, hoping Nomine would fill in the blank and give him the name of the man the young cadet worked for.

Nomine abruptly held the phaser up high, aiming it at Daniels’s face. “What I did was for the good of the Federation. It must be protected.”

Suddenly a few things became clearer to Daniels. “You didn’t set the bomb to kill Hahn.”

“No, I set the bomb to prove to everyone that the Dominion is a real threat. That we need to change our security measures. It was all supposed to go without a hitch—no casualties.”

“But that’s where it went wrong,” Daniels said, looking about the room to find a way past the phaser fire. He tried masking his thoughts, thinking of Data’s cat portraits. “That was the flaw in the plan. You planted it too far away. The Dominion killed twenty-seven people, Bael. You couldn’t do it, could you? You couldn’t kill more innocents.”

“He was already dead.” Nomine’s exterior broke. His own face returned, melting away to reveal black eyes and a thinner face. “I didn’t kill Hahn, but I was told to put him there, near the bomb. And then the Enterprise came early and we were rushed to finish…”

“Who? Who was rushed?” Daniels leaned forward. “Cadet, who are you working for?”

Nomine sniffed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “He told me to do it again—and I did. I didn’t want to. But I have to follow the chain of command.”

The color drained from Daniels’s face. “Do what, Nomine? What did they tell you to do?”

“…another bomb.”

“Where?”

“Engineering.” He smiled. “It was so easy.”

Another bomb. Dear God…

Daniels didn’t have a choice, he had to risk contacting the captain. He took a step forward and set the padd and chip on the bed. “Nomine, you have to tell me where the other bomb is. You’re not the type of person that can kill so easily.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Nomine said as he wiped at his eyes with his free hand. “And I can’t let you leave this room.”

Before Daniels could reach for his own phaser, Nomine fired.

CHAPTER
10

Th’ Unworthy Takes

“You told me to do a little digging,” Riker said as he sat down in the chair in front of Picard’s desk. “And, as you can see, what I discovered from my father’s old friends back home proves what t’Saiga and La Forge found.”

Picard nodded as he reviewed the information sent to him from engineering. “This is astounding.”

“It’s treason,” Riker said. “My guess is Hahn discovered what they were doing—about the bomb—”

“And they killed him for it,” Picard said as he looked up from the padd. “Have they been able to identify the receiver of the communiqués?”

“Office of Security,” Riker said, his expression filled with disgust. “There’s no identity tag, but they’re all coded with a Starfleet alpha priority.” Riker’s expression hardened. “Admiral Leyton.”

“Will, we don’t have any proof of Leyton’s involvement in this—”

“Yes, we do.” Riker sat forward, his hands on his knees. “I’ve been in contact with DS9. According to Worf, Captain Sisko asked them to check out the relay station on the other side of the wormhole a week ago.”

“What for?”

“To find an explanation as to why the wormhole had been opening and closing.”

“And?”

“Apparently they found a Lieutenant Ariaga there, who claimed he was ordered by Admiral Leyton to attach a subspace modulator to the relay station.”

Picard looked up from the padd sharply. “Admiral Leyton?”

“As much as I hated to admit it,” Riker said, “Daniels’s suspicions proved to be right. Worf’s taking the Defiant out to rendezvous with Sisko and Odo on Earth.”

“Leyton’s behind this?” Picard looked down at the padd. “And Hahn’s death?”

“La Forge to Picard.”

“Go ahead.”

“Sir, Barclay and Porter just finished up another perimeter sensor sweep of the starbase and the surrounding area. And…” He paused. “Well, I’ve found something you’re going to have to see for yourself.”

Daniels finally understood Stevens’s comment about avoiding a five-alarm headache. It did feel as if he had at least twice that number of alarms singing out in his head.

He put a hand to his temple and pressed it, hoping to turn at least one of them off.

Siobhan is going to laugh at me. I can just hear her voice telling me, “Had enough now?”

No one ever told him life on board a starship was this much fun.

After blinking back the lethargic effects of phaser fire, Daniels sat up and looked around.

He was on the floor of what looked like a closet. A quick check told him his combadge was missing, as well as his phaser. The room was dimly lit by a small light above. He pushed himself up and slammed his head into the ceiling. Painfully.

The door abruptly opened and light blasted inside, momentarily blinding him.

He could make out a figure. Tall, dressed in a uniform. He was holding a phaser. “Out.”

Daniels did as he was told, rubbing his eyes as he did. “Nomine, this isn’t going to work,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You can’t kill all those people. Starfleet will find out.”

“I’m afraid Starfleet will learn nothing,” said a voice that was distinctively not Nomine’s.

Snowden.

Daniels kept his hands at his sides as he looked around. They were in a small ship of some kind, its configurations matching those of a type-6 shuttle. “This is the ghost we kept picking up on the sensors.”

“Yes,” Snowden said as he gestured for Daniels to move away. “Holographic technology at its finest.”

It was then that Daniels saw the still form of Cadet Nomine. From the position of his body on the floor between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats, it looked as if he’d been in the pilot’s seat when Snowden shot him. “So you’re getting rid of all the loose ends?”

“He’s not dead. Not yet, anyway. He failed in his mission.” Snowden straightened up but kept his phaser steady. “Both missions.”

Daniels looked back at Nomine. “He was going to run.”

“Yes, with you on board. The only survivor—alive to tell the truth of what happened. Luckily he did plant the bomb. And having you here—though a minor inconvenience—could prove to be a boon. I still have enough unreplicated metamorphic matter to plant near the bomb so that any of your new protocols will detect it. And with you at the blast center…” He made a clucking noise. “It’s all very tragic.”

“So you’re doing this to garner sympathy from Starfleet?” Daniels continued to note the ship’s interior, locating vital stations. Ops, helm, tactical. “Why?”

“So that President Jaresh-Inyo and all of those with him will understand that fortifying Earth is the best thing to do.” He narrowed his eyes at Daniels. “And it worked—at least the blackout did. Until Leyton sent me this halfwitted cadet to confuse things here. He’s not a soldier, he’s a scientist. An engineer. He didn’t understand that some loss of life was necessary to achieve the greater objective.”

“As in killing Admiral Hahn,” Daniels said. “And now all on board the Enterprise.”

“Not everyone will die. Most—some decks will decompress. But there will be enough left for them to investigate.” He smiled. “Perhaps I’ll rig it so you’re suspected of planting both bombs.”

“It won’t happen, Snowden,” Daniels said. “We know what you’re doing.”

“That’s a threat?” He smiled. “You seem to forget, Mr. Daniels, I’m one of Leyton’s key officers. I have his protection. And soon I’ll have a ship of my own. Maybe even the new Enterprise.”

“Ardra?” Picard stood between La Forge and Barclay, staring at the amphitheater projection. Travec stood to their right, his attention focused on them. “But our encounter with her was…five years ago? I thought her ship was confiscated and she was turned over to local authorities.”

“She was,” La Forge said. “This isn’t her ship, but it is based on her technology. I recognized the holographic signature. It’s nearly the same combination of force fields, holography, and transporter technology. Only this system’s more sophisticated.” He tapped a panel, and the image moved to close in on the strange star pattern in space. “Barclay and Porter have been seeing the ship since we arrived, only it was sporadically appearing and reappearing.” He shrugged. “Everyone thought it was residual images.”

“Meaning their holography,” Barclay said hesitantly, “was—was tied to the shields. When whoever beamed on board and off, they had to lower their shields.”

La Forge added, “It’s possible this is where Admiral Hahn was when he disappeared—whether voluntarily or involuntarily we can’t say.”

“I’m more likely to believe involuntarily.” Picard crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed the fingers of his right hand against his lips as he tried to put the pieces together. “What if Hahn discovered this ship, just as you did?”

“Then I’m positive whoever’s been hiding in it would have wanted him dead.” La Forge shook his head. “I’d also rule out any Dominion involvement.” He held his hands out to his sides. “Why would a shape-shifter need this kind of technology to change forms?”

Picard lowered his arms. “A shape-shifter wouldn’t. But someone trying to imitate a shape-shifter would. It appears Lieutenant Daniels’s suspicions were well founded.” He turned to his right, looking around the holodeck. “Where is Mr. Daniels?”

“He said he had to get something from his quarters,” Travec said. “But that was over an hour ago.”

The captain tapped his combadge. “Picard to Daniels.”

No answer.

“Computer, locate Lieutenant Daniels.”

“Lieutenant Daniels is not on board.”

Picard gave Riker a sharp glance. “Computer, locate Lieutenant Abidah and Captain Snowden.”

“There is no record of a Lieutenant Abidah in Starfleet service. Captain Snowden is not on board the Enterprise.”

“No record?” Porter said.

“No,” Picard said. “Computer, give the last known location of Cadet Bael Nomine.”

“Cadet Nomine was last located in guest quarters 712.”

Travec stepped forward. “Those are Daniels’s quarters.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Sage muttered.

“As do I,” Picard said. “Geordi, can you get a lock on that ship? Possibly beam someone over?”

“Its shields are up,” La Forge said. “Pinpointing it can be—”

A klaxon sounded inside the holodeck. Picard looked up at the ceiling as Sage and Porter returned to the main console.

“We have a bigger problem,” Sage said as he looked at the controls, his golden eyes widening. “It’s a bomb.”

“Where?” Picard said.

“Engineering.” He turned and looked up at Picard. “It just appeared suddenly. Its components match the schematics of a Dominion bomb. Some of those chemicals when cooked together don’t play well with plasma coolant.” He glanced back at the screen. “The Enterprise will have a very nice veranda overlooking what’ll be left of the starbase if it blows.”

“Travec, t’Saiga, Porter, get down there and clear out engineering. Number One, start evacuating the ship to the station.” He looked back at the amphitheater and the ghost image just visible in the stars. “Geordi, get me on that ship. I’ll wager that’s where I’ll find Daniels, Nomine, and Snowden.”

CHAPTER
11

From Whose Bourn

Daniels watched as Snowden operated a few of the ship’s systems from the copilot’s chair. “Ah—it appears the Enterprise is attempting to acquire a transporter lock on this ship.” Snowden looked directly at Daniels. “That means their shields are down. Time to go.”

“Wait—” Daniels put up his hands, desperate to find a way to give the Enterprise more time. If they were trying to get a lock on this ship, it meant they’d discovered the ship and they suspected either himself or maybe Nomine or Snowden was on board. “None of this is necessary. You can’t honestly believe Admiral Leyton wants the Enterprise destroyed.”

But Snowden wasn’t listening.

Daniels watched his movements, tracked his hands over the panels. “You’re setting the self-destruct.”

“You don’t think I can allow this ship to be found, do you? No, it’ll destroy itself in ten minutes, along with you and whoever is attempting to beam on board.”

Daniels heard the hum of a transporter as Snowden shimmered away and was replaced by Picard, his phaser out and aimed at Daniels’s chest.

Picard narrowed his eyes. “It is you, isn’t it?”

Daniels nodded as he went to Nomine’s body and placed his fingers on the man’s neck. “He’s alive. Stunned.”

Picard knelt beside him. “I take it this is Bael Nomine?” He and Daniels locked gazes. “Mr. La Forge briefed me about the padd and the chip. He was also able to retrieve enough data in the communications logs to court-martial Leyton, Snowden, and the cadet here.” He looked back at the console. “I take it he’s set a self-destruct?”

Nodding, Daniels moved to the copilot’s chair. “Snowden figured he’d get rid of what he saw as an incompetent liability.” He checked the shuttle diagnostics.

Picard eased Nomine out of the way and took the pilot’s chair on Daniels’s left. “I take it you’re going to change the security overrides?”

“Yes, sir, that is, if he hasn’t changed them. Which is a distinct possibility.”

He tapped the codes into the computer.

“It’s no good.”

The countdown grew closer to zero. Daniels stared at the console, thinking back to his training, back to what Sage always said about thinking outside the box. On a whim, Daniels used several old DPO codes he’d acquired after one of the trams leading in and out of the building malfunctioned, locking several passengers inside.

“Auto-destruct terminated,” came the computer’s voice.

Picard breathed a visible sigh of relief. He looked at Daniels. “What did you do?”

Daniels smiled. “I thought outside the box.” He disengaged the remote keys and returned helm control to himself and Picard. “Snowden plans on blowing the Enterprise up—”

“Hoping to gain more sympathy from the Federation—initiating a call to arms,” Picard said as he moved the shuttle forward. “But that’s not what he’s going to get.”

“…to Captain Picard, can you read me…”

Picard tapped his combadge. “Here, Number One. Report.”

“Snowden’s beamed into engineering, sealed it off, and set up an inhibitor. We can’t beam him or the bomb out. Luckily, all personnel had been evacuated.”

“The bomb still in place?”

“I’m afraid so,” Riker said. “And, Captain, we can see your ship now.” Riker’s visage showed on the main viewer. “Wow. That’s a vintage shuttlecraft.”

“Will, I’m going to need you to get into engineering to disable the bomb. That might drive Snowden out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have another shuttle cloaked and waiting somewhere nearby.”

Riker looked over at Daniels. “Do we know what the bomb looks like?”

Daniels paused. That was a good question. With a Changeling bomb it could be anything. In Antwerp it had been something as innocuous as a carafe. But in engineering, it could look like a million other gadgets.

“It’s not—” came a voice to Daniels’s right. He turned and saw Nomine staggering to his feet. His face was bruised and he was bleeding from a cut on his cheek. Probably where Snowden had struck him. “It’s not armed.”

Daniels and Picard turned to stare at him.

“What was that?” Riker said.

Nomine licked his lips. He reached inside his left pants pocket. Daniels instinctively reached for his phaser—which wasn’t there. He was relieved when the cadet pulled out a slim, golden disk-shaped stone. “It won’t be activated without this.”

Daniels recognized it. So did Picard. “A Changeling key.”

Nomine nodded. “I arranged it so your sensors, as well as those on the starbase, would find it in their sensor sweeps. The components are all there.”

“But that means there’s no initiation switch.” Daniels smiled. “Does Snowden know?”

Nomine shook his head. “No. He believes it’ll go off in less than five minutes.”

Picard almost smiled. “He’s in for a rude awakening. Number One, my guess is Snowden has set up his own means of escape whether or not the bomb detonates. Keep an eye on all shuttles. We’ll be docking in a few seconds. Picard out.”

Picard brought the impulse engines online as Daniels did a quick diagnostics check on the shuttle’s systems.

Glancing to his right at the cadet standing between them, Picard said, “I want to know what happened to Admiral Hahn.”

Daniels looked back at the young Betazoid as well. Nomine swallowed and kept his head bent down. “Admiral Hahn found my subspace transmissions to Admiral Leyton. He also found this shuttle and managed to beam on board while Commander Snowden and I were here. He threatened to expose the entire operation and claimed he had the proof needed, hidden in a safe place.”

“So you killed him?” Picard’s voice was filled with bitterness as the shuttle rounded the Enterprise’s saucer to come about as the shuttlebay doors opened.

“No, sir. I didn’t kill Admiral Hahn. He and Snowden fought. They were arguing. We knew the Enterprise was on her way, and Red Squad was already beaming on board the Lakota for their mission.” He looked at Picard without flinching. “They were to sabotage Earth’s power relay network. Hahn took a swing at Snowden, but he missed, and Snowden…” Nomine looked down. “Snowden took a drill from the open tool storage in the back and hit the Admiral with it in the head. The admiral staggered to the console—and he grabbed a padd. But he then stumbled away and collapsed. When he lay still, Snowden told me to hide both of them in the blast.”

Daniels watched the controls as the Enterprise’s tractor beam guided the shuttle inside. He glanced back at Nomine. “Why did you believe Hahn hid the chip in the padd?”

“I didn’t until you found it. I left Hahn there, on the floor, too terrified to touch him. I maneuvered the shuttle into position just as you arrived—shorted out the external sensors on the starbase, and then ordered my people to fire at the coordinates I gave them.”

“Disabling our sensors.”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t remember the padd being missing until Mr. Daniels found it on deck twenty-seven, and then I realized it would be the perfect place to hide a memory chip since we’d not been able to find anything in his quarters or on the starbase.”

The shuttle docked. Picard moved from the seat and headed to the side door. Daniels requested a security detail to the shuttlebay before standing, but remained in front of the controls. He gestured for Nomine to follow the captain as he took up the rear to keep an eye on the cadet.

Once into the shuttlebay’s main hangar the security team—with Ensign Lynch in front—appeared with phasers drawn. They surrounded Nomine, and Lynch handed Daniels a phaser and combadge.

Picard looked at Nomine. “You do know your career in Starfleet is at an end. But if you cooperate, you could receive a lighter sentence.”

Nomine nodded, his head held low as the team escorted him away.

The captain started moving, with Daniels beside him. Once they were in the turbolift, Picard touched his combadge. “Report, Number One.”

“Snowden reacted pretty much the way you suspected he would when the bomb didn’t blow. Pitched a bit of a fit and transported out of engineering.”

“Where is he now?”

“We tracked him beaming back to the starbase—then his signal disappeared.”

Picard looked at Daniels. “Another cloaked shuttle?”

“Possibly. Shields would have to be down for a cloak to work,” Daniels said. “Which means he could have beamed on board.” He sighed. “But looking for a cloaked ship is often like the proverbial needle and haystack.”

“Then, Mr. Daniels, are you ready to search the haystack?”

Daniels smiled. “Always, sir.”

Once on the bridge Picard strode to his command chair as Riker stood. Daniels relieved the ensign at tactical.

“Report.”

“Snowden’s decloaked. He’s in another type-6 shuttlecraft.” Daniels checked external sensors. “He’s equipped with type-4 phaser emitters. Looks like he’s sacrificed warp capability to house the cloaking device. But he still has the advantage of maneuverability.”

“Hail him,” Picard said. When Daniels nodded, Picard spoke. “Captain Snowden, this is Captain Picard. Your ship is no match for the Enterprise. We have Cadet Nomine in custody. We know what happened to Admiral Hahn.”

After a pause Daniels shook his head. “No response.”

“He’s coming round toward us,” Riker said.

“On-screen,” Picard said.

A view of the shuttlecraft making a tight arc over Starbase 375 to the left appeared in front of the bridge crew. All eyes tracked it as it straightened and bore down on the Enterprise.

“What’s he doing?” Riker said. “He knows a shuttlecraft is no match for a Sovereign-class ship.”

“Shields up,” Picard said.

Daniels complied, again amazed at the speed and efficiency of the Enterprise-E computers. He maintained a tactical view of Snowden’s shuttle, all the while trying to figure out what the man was up to. Riker was right—a shuttlecraft had no chance against the Enterprise. In fact, the only way any smaller ship could take down or damage a starship was—

Oh no.

“He’s firing,” Riker said before Daniels could report.

The phaser fire knocked against the shields but did little damage. “Shields at one hundred percent, Captain.” Daniels reached out and gripped the edge of the tactical console. “He’s been in engineering!”

Picard frowned at first, but then the realization of what Daniels feared dawned on his face. “The prefix codes—Mr. Hawk, hard to port. Mr. Daniels, lock on that ship and fire. Mr. Data, can you change the codes before he can send a signal?”

Data’s fingers flew across his operations console, but it was too late. Daniels watched the shields drop on his tactical. He tried to circumvent the action, but nothing worked. “Shields are dropping.”

The ship rocked hard to starboard as Snowden fired aft, making a strafing run over the back of the ship. Panels burst from several centers as Daniels held on to the tactical console. He saw crew members hurled from their chairs as the panel behind him shorted.

The ship rocked as Snowden fired again, and the lights dimmed on the bridge.

Abruptly the crashing stopped. Daniels found himself on the floor behind the console. He reached up, gripped the edge of the tactical station, and pulled himself up to view the board.

“Report!” Picard said.

“Emergency lights,” Riker said from the side.

“Captain,” La Forge said over the intercom, “warp core’s offline. So are the external sensors. We’ve also lost two forward phaser emitters. He knew where to hit us.”

“How long before you can have shields back up?” Picard asked as the remainder of the bridge crew picked themselves up from the floor. A medical team arrived with Crusher in front.

“Captain, we’re not getting anything back up if he keeps firing on us. And without external sensors, we can’t pinpoint his location.”

Daniels coughed as he did a quick diagnostic of the deflector shield. “Captain, with your permission, sir—I can have Porter and Sage reroute the sensors for the rogue system in holodeck three through the deflector array. They won’t be able to detect his weapons, but they could at least give us a visual.”

“Make it so.”

Daniels called down to Porter, but Travec and Sage were already ahead of him and Barclay was seconds away from routing the channel to the bridge viewer. “We have it, Captain.”

The viewer came to life again. The image wasn’t as clear as before, but it showed the shuttlecraft veering off and heading away from the starbase.

“Where is he going?” Riker said.

“There is an asteroid cluster approximately ten kilometers away, at 631 mark 2,” Data said as he turned from ops.

Hawk pounded a fist on the navigation console. “Where we can’t go in after him.” He turned to Picard. “But a shuttle can.”

Daniels licked his lips. “Sir, we can use the same tactics Snowden used on us. I can rig a transmitter to broadcast a series of DPO codes to his shield modulation. But it’d have to be a line-of-sight pulse.”

Riker frowned at him. “Can you pilot a shuttle in that?”

“No, sir.”

Hawk stood up. “I can.”

Picard turned to Hawk. “Make it so, gentlemen.”

Daniels and Hawk entered the turbolift together. “Shuttlebay one,” Hawk said. He narrowed his eyes at Daniels after the doors closed. “Can you really lower his shields with a DPO code?”

He shrugged. “Can you really pilot a type-9 shuttlecraft through an asteroid cluster?”

Hawk smiled. “Dunno, but I’d like to try.”

Daniels smiled back. “So would I.”

Once launched, Daniels brought the sensors online and downloaded one of the protocol engines into the array. Hawk brought the impulse engines up to full as Daniels raised shields.

“I’ve locked on,” Hawk said. “Bearing 227.”

“I see him.” Daniels input the codes and their variants from a padd. “We’re going to have to get closer for this to work.”

“Unless he’s already changed the shield modulation.”

Daniels nodded. “That’s a possibility.”

Abruptly the shuttle lurched as Snowden fired on them. Daniels grabbed the console and checked the readings. “Shields at ninety percent.”

“Let’s even the playing field.” Hawk increased speed.

Smiling, Daniels locked on target and fired phasers. He read the panels. “His shields are at eighty-five.”

The asteroid cluster loomed ahead of them. Daniels watched as Snowden turned his ship to port to avoid a spinning chunk of rock, then rolled twice and cruised up.

“We’re not going to do that, are we?” He looked over at Hawk.

“What? Afraid of a little skilled piloting, Mr. Daniels?” Hawk said as the panel beside his right hand slid away and a manual control ascended. He clasped it with his right hand and smiled at Daniels. “Hang on.”

And hang on Daniels did as the shuttle rolled clockwise twice, then descended abruptly to avoid collision with another asteroid. The shuttle shook as Snowden fired again. Daniels checked the inertial dampers. They were working, but somehow his stomach still rolled about.

“How is he hitting us in this?” Daniels muttered as he read the tactical HUD. “Shields at eighty-five percent. Another kilometer and I can send the codes.”

“Unless he bashes into one of these things.” Hawk pulled the shuttle to the left.

Daniels targeted Snowden’s shuttle. But an asteroid spun into the path of his phaser. Daniels fired again, this time striking the target. “His shields are at sixty-five percent.”

“That’s a dramatic drop.”

“It was the explosion,” Daniels said as they closed in on Snowden’s shuttle. “The shields were compensating for the debris as well as the phasers. Probably shorted out an emitter.” The console beeped. “We’re in range.”

“Send the damned things.”

Daniels did. He watched the readouts. No change. “He’s changed the modulation code.”

“Figures.” The shuttle shook harder this time as sparks erupted from behind Hawk’s chair. “I’m getting tired of this.” He throttled forward. “Target two of the asteroids closest to him—compensate for speed.”

Daniels understood what Hawk intended to do: overtax Snowden’s shields. “Aye, sir.” He pushed the phaser range to maximum, computed distance and speed, and fired phasers. Even before the asteroids exploded he fired on the shuttle.

Within seconds the shuttle slowed and began to roll.

“Shields are down,” Daniels said as a perimeter warning light flashed. “He’s lost control.”

“Lock onto him and beam him directly into the back.” Hawk grinned. “You’d better have your phaser ready, too. I’m pretty sure Captain Snowden isn’t going to be too happy with us.” He gave a sly smirk as he rolled the shuttle up past a large rock and out of the asteroid cluster just as the sound of the transporter engaged and Snowden’s shuttle struck a smaller asteroid and exploded.

EPILOGUE

An Enterprise of Great Pitch and Moment

Estro Rama’s Cerulean Sunset concerto played softly as a pleasant background to the art reception in the lounge. Thirty or so officers moved about, snacking on canapés, tortes, and a variety of fruits and vegetables, some native to Canopus as well as Earth.

Sage, his hair neatly plaited down his back, moved quickly through the other uniforms to stand beside Daniels, who stood with Picard, Riker, La Forge, and Troi.

Daniels gave him a wide smile as he held out his fluted glass of champagne. Sage held out his own and the two clinked glasses. “We’re gonna miss you,” he said after swallowing half of the sweet, golden liquid.

“No, you won’t,” Daniels said. “Not with a new job at the Daystrom Institute.”

“Yeah.” Sage winked. “Sweet, ain’t it?”

“Sage,” La Forge said as he leaned forward and offered the Fijorian his hand, “congratulations on the new job. I’ve already contacted a few friends there and warned them about you.”

Sage’s dark eyebrows arched beneath his hair. “Girls?”

La Forge’s own eyebrows rose above his VISOR. “Like I said—they’ve been warned.”

“Gentlemen,” Troi said with a slight smirk, “aren’t we here to honor our artists?”

The reception was occasioned by the art sciences department’s biannual showing of their students’ work. The Enterprise was preparing to depart, and the captain felt it was a good distraction from the trials at Starbase 375.

Especially the reception’s showpiece, Spot’s Repose, which was garnering more attention than any other piece of work.

Daniels was especially delighted at Travec’s interest in the paintings. He’d insisted several times he had to have a set in his office. They were the most exquisite things he’d ever seen.

So much for taste.

Daniels and Troi had helped Data choose four prints, and the art instructor had arranged them on one of the walls to form a square panel. The reactions had been mostly jovial, with even a few requesting a set of their own.

Data’s latest achievement was to sit in on a few music sessions. He’d finally picked up the violin again and moved past his frustration at no longer playing the music verbatim without deviation, but now with feeling.

Motion and movement.

Daniels smiled at Troi and raised his glass toward the display. “Who knew Data had such talent?”

“Not so sure it’s talent as much as it is an exercise in humor,” La Forge said. He grinned. “But at least he’s painting, and playing the violin again.”

Picard raised his glass and took a sip. He didn’t make a face, but Daniels could tell from his expression that the champagne was sweeter than what he was accustomed to.

Troi asked, “So, how’s Siobhan taking the news that you’ve been assigned to be the new security chief and tactical specialist on the Enterprise?”

He sighed. “Happy and disappointed. She’s made me promise to write her every day—and that’s write with pen and paper. We haven’t seen each other in nearly three months, and it’ll be a little longer before I’m near Canopus again.”

“Perhaps we can arrange something,” Picard said, “after the current crisis is resolved.”

Riker nodded. “Admiral Ross will be here in two days to take over Starbase 375. Snowden and Nomine are facing a court-martial once we return to Earth.”

“What about Hahn’s family?” Crusher asked. “Jean-Luc, have you spoken with Crystal?”

He nodded. “Yes. She’ll be meeting us on arrival to take possession of his body. I’m also officiating at his wake.”

This was sobering news, and Daniels sipped at his champagne, wishing with all his heart his wife could be there beside him.

He thought back to the meeting between himself, Riker, and Picard in the captain’s ready room. Daniels had helped Barclay, Porter, and Sage remove the rogue system in holodeck three and was preparing to return to Earth once Admiral Ross arrived on the U.S.S. Bellerophon.

Picard had started the meeting. “Mr. Daniels, it’s come to my attention that with the exposure of Admiral Leyton’s failed coup, you could be out of a job at Starfleet Department of Planetary Operations.”

Daniels had nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ve put in for reassignment. Preferably on board a ship.”

“We’ve read it,” Riker had said. “But what we’re unsure about is why you didn’t request to be posted here, on board the Enterprise.”

His eyes had grown wide and he’d hated to admit that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I—I didn’t know it was an option. I know so many security officers who both want this posting and fear it.”

Riker had frowned. “Fear it?”

Daniels had nodded to the commander. “It’s rumored that anything can happen on the Enterprise, sir.”

“Touché,” Picard had said. “Mr. Daniels, I’ve reviewed your service record, and to be honest, if we’d not worked directly with you, both Commander Riker and I might have passed you over. But you showed remarkable courage, an ability to think, as t’Saiga calls it, outside the box, and you acted in a professional manner. And Commander Travec has recommended you for the post with a glowing letter.”

Riker had looked at him. “Originally we’d been considering Lieutenant Huff to fill the position.”

Daniels had felt a slight twinge of regret about his original dislike of the woman. He felt guilty about her death—she had died in his quarters. A useless death. “I’m sorry for that, sir.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Picard said. “Nomine could have just as easily killed you. We need a security chief, as well as a tactician. You qualify on both counts, and Admiral Ross has already approved the posting.” He’d glanced at Riker. “If you’ll accept it.”

He’d been stunned. “I didn’t know assignments were an option. I’ve never been asked before.”

“They’re not really an option,” Riker said. “Your personal effects are already being packed as we speak to be loaded up once we arrive on Earth.” He grinned. “We were just being nice.”

And so Daniels was made chief of security.

There was a lull in the music as everyone turned to the wall of cats. Data stood in front of them, a violin in his hand. Troi glanced back at Daniels and beamed.

Uh oh, Daniels thought as he watched the crowd move back toward him and Porter.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Until a few weeks ago, I had given up any dreams of ever painting, or playing music again. But thanks to Counselor Troi and my accidental teacher, Lieutenant Daniels, I have done both. And soon I hope to expand my efforts into theater—perhaps a musical. But for now, I would like to perform the solo from Estro’s midi concerto as an appreciation.”

The crowd gave a subdued clap.

Daniels glanced at Picard, Riker, La Forge, and Crusher. Their expressions of panic alarmed him.

He leaned in closer to Troi. “Is he bad?”

“Well, since the emotion chip—” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

With the violin tucked under his chin, Data closed his eyes, placed the bow to the strings, and began to play…

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Again I must give thanks and kudos to Keith R.A. DeCandido for allowing me to be a part of this incredible Next Generation anniversary special. I have had a ball writing Starfleet Corps of Engineers eBooks, and was beside myself when this opportunity came along.

My next thank you goes out to Herb Beas III, a dedicated fan of Star Trek, a writer, game designer, and dear friend. I don’t know what I would have done without him and his patience with me as I struggled through the worst case of Star Trek anxiety a dedicated fan-girl could have. I owe you, Herb. And I didn’t use the nukes. And to Jason Schmetzer, who’s learned the hard way that if he’s on IM and I see him, he’s fair game.

Thanks also to my daughter, who has had to learn patience with me and the characters that take up mommy time. And to my parents—especially my dad—who introduced all of his children to the wonderful and inspiring world of Gene Roddenberry.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PHAEDRA M. WELDON has been a fan of Star Trek since her dad introduced her to the series when she was twelve. Her professional writing career began with stories selected for two of Pocket Books’s Star Trek: Strange New Worlds anthologies: “The Lights in the Sky” in Volume 1 and “Who Cries for Prometheus?” in Volume 5. She is also the author of many original short stories for DAW anthologies, and is excited about her first original published novel, Wraith, which came out from Ace in 2007. Her other work with Star Trek includes the Corps of Engineers eBooks Blackout and Signs from Heaven.