Star Trek™:

Corps of Engineers

Turn the Page by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

Troubleshooting by Robert Greenberger

COMING SOON:

The Light by Jeff D. Jacques

The Art of the Comeback by Glenn Greenberg

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CHAPTER

1

Now

“Priority signal coming from Deep Space 10,” Anthony Shabalala told Captain David Gold from the tactical station.

“On screen,” he said, trying to avoid the sinking feeling in his solar plexus. Had they waited too long to peer through the months of smoke and actually find a fire, and if so, was it controllable?

Commander Kesh-Mara appeared on the bridge’s main screen, his eyes narrowed to slits, his flattened nose flaring. “Captain, the environmental control system has shut itself down and we can’t get it to restart. With emergency filtration and oxygen supplies, the station has at best twenty hours of usable air.”

Gold looked at Sonya Gomez, his first officer, who had a stricken look on her face. She, in turn, exchanged glances with the second officer, Mor glasch Tev. He was already calling up station specs to a screen by his station. The captain could see from his peripheral vision that Wong had been setting a course in advance, proving once more he had a good crew.

“Cause?”

“We don’t know. This could be what the other problems were softening us up for. Maybe it’s unrelated. All I know for certain is I need help.”

“We’re on our way, Commander,” Gold said, mustering more emphasis than he had in his previous conversations with the station’s commandant. As the screen winked off, he saw Wong turn, an expectant expression on his face.

“Execute, maximum warp. Gomez, assemble your people; let’s get ourselves ready for this.”

“Maximum warp, aye,” Wong replied. “ETA six hours, fourteen minutes.”

That gave the crew about fourteen hours to fix the problem before things got dicey. Fortunately, his crew seemed to work best under time constraints.

Less than ten minutes later, Gold took his seat at the head of the conference table in the observation lounge. Most of his team had one or two padds before them and someone had seen to it a schematic of the station was on the wall screen.

“Where are we?” he asked, looking at Nancy Conlon, the da Vinci’s chief engineer, and the one officer who had taken a keen interest in the station from the beginning.

“I’ve got the telemetry coming in from Tegor in real time,” Conlon said, glancing at the padd in her left hand. “It’s just as Commander Kesh-Mara said: They have a system-wide failure, never seen anything like it.”

“Nor have I,” Tev added. “This is a new level of trouble.”

“Gomez, does this add a significant piece to your puzzle?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Gomez said, staring at her padd and not the captain. This certainly had gotten his crew’s attention and Gold wondered if they had waited too long to take the station’s problems seriously enough. “It could be related, it could be unrelated. We need to see for ourselves. Every other problem was minor and easily corrected. This one threatens every life on the station.”

“What is the complement?”

“Six hundred forty-seven,” Tev said.

“Sir, the other problems could have been tests of the station and its crew,” Corsi suggested.

“I concur,” Gomez added.

“What’s going on in the spacelanes near the station?”

Gomez paused a moment to check something on a padd, exchanged confirming looks with Corsi, and said, “Normal traffic. Long-range station sensors show nothing of a threatening nature.”

“Whoever did this may be waiting until the station is abandoned before arriving,” Corsi said.

“Can the station be evacuated in the time remaining?” Dr. Elizabeth Lense asked. Gold looked over at her, noting she was clearly showing these days. He was still amazed over the notion of Lense being pregnant, thrilled for her and her choice to keep the child despite the fact that it was conceived in another universe. Once more, he congratulated himself on also bringing aboard qualified help for the doctor, early enough for Sarjenka to get acclimated to the ship and crew before Lense was physically unfit for duty.

“Computer specs say yes, reality says maybe,” Corsi said. “They need eight or so hours to fully evacuate personnel after shutting down all systems. In a real emergency, they could be gone in minutes. Specs say there’s enough life craft for a thousand people, so capacity is not an issue.”

“Assemble your tools, prep your teams, and then get some rest,” Gold ordered. “Our first order of business will be to restore the air. In case of deprivation issues, sickbay has to be ready. Gomez, fixing the system is for you and Tev.”

Conlon gestured, catching the captain’s attention. “I’ve crawled through some of those systems already, sir. I’d like to stay involved.”

“Makes sense to me,” Gomez quickly concurred.

“I have no objection,” Tev said, which Gold viewed as progress. Six months ago, he would have had several objections.

“Done,” Gold ordered. “Corsi, once order is restored, you get to figure out if sabotage is a real or imagined threat.”

“I’m starting to think real,” she said.

Gold’s features hardened and his voice dropped. “Me, too.”

In sickbay, Lense hurried in and began opening cabinet doors, looking for specific medicines. She worried about having to replicate any of the oxygen compounds she’d need for the station staff. So preoccupied was she in her efforts, she started when she heard the high tones of Sarjenka’s voice.

“Can I be of assistance?”

Over her right shoulder, Lense glared at the young Dreman. She still resented Gold for bringing aboard another doctor without so much as a discussion. Hell, she resented many things these days and frequently reordered the priority of annoyance in her head. Right now, she needed to push those distractions aside and be ready. After all, why prove the captain right?

“Actually, Sarjenka, you could be of some use. Check the DS10 manifest and let’s make sure we’re aware of all atmospheric concerns.”

“Very good, Doctor,” the tall, thin, reddish-skinned woman said and turned away. As she started to call up information, the Dreman looked over her shoulder and asked, “I get the impression you’ve been to the station.”

“A few times,” Lense said, her tone indicating the memory didn’t please her. “A wild-goose chase.”

“I’m sorry?”

“An old Earth phrase, Sarjenka. It means we were there looking for something that didn’t exist. Now we may be proven wrong.”

“What’s happened there before?”

Nine Months Ago

“Captain, we’re receiving new orders from Starfleet Command,” Gomez said as Gold entered the bridge. He gave her a questioning glance as she completed reviewing the orders on the padd in her right hand. Gomez looked up, ready to report, when she saw the questioning gaze linger. For a moment she was perplexed until she realized it must be the bright yellow towel draped over her shoulders.

“I was working out when we got word,” she said by way of explanation.

“That’s new, isn’t it?” he asked gently.

She gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Let’s just say that after visiting Ferenginar, I figured I needed to lose a kilo or two.”

He didn’t reply but she spotted a twinkle in his eyes before they narrowed, now questioning the padd in her hand.

“We’re being asked to go take a look at Deep Space10.”

“That place just got christened,” Anthony Shabalala, the tactical officer, noted.

Gold grunted noncommittally.

Gomez added, “They have some sort of technical glitch and because the teams that built it have scattered, we’re being asked to pay them a visit.”

“Must be some glitch,” Shabalala said.

“I’ll presume that because it just went online glitches are to be expected,” Gold said. Gomez handed him the padd and dabbed at dripping strands of black hair with the towel. The captain frowned at the information.

“It’s all minor from what I can tell. Better get it over with. Plot course and engage at warp three,” Gold said. Wong nodded in the affirmative, fingers already at work on the control station.

Moments later, the bridge received a comm signal from Chief Engineer Nancy Conlon. “Commander Gomez, request permission to beam down with the team.”

Gold and Gomez exchanged glances. “Well, it’s nice to see the grapevine is working at peak efficiency,” he began. “I’d like to know why.”

“Have you read anything about the station?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I’ve heard of the place until today,” the captain admitted.

“It’s supposed to be the future, a blend of Federation and Cardassian systems that makes it unique.”

“I thought that was Deep Space 9, which I’ve seen and have to admit, wasn’t impressed by,” Gold said.

“That was a supreme kludge,” Conlon said, and her enthusiasm over the speaker brought smiles to the captain and first officer. “This place supposedly can process information faster than any place this side of the Daystrom Institute. More than that, it has the latest in networking, sensor grids, and even holo technology.”

“So everything is bright and shiny; I get that.”

“This may be my one chance to really see it,” Conlon said.

Gomez shrugged. “I have no objection. Nancy could use some more field experience, anyhow.” As the chief engineer of a ship full of them, Conlon didn’t always get the chance to get involved in the problem solving that the main S.C.E. team did.

“All right, then, Gomez, you can break the news to Stevens that he’s been drydocked,” Gold said.

Conlon and Tev beamed down to the space station along with Gomez. As soon as the transporter beam released them, Gomez saw Nancy begin looking around, craning her neck. The station had that look of being brand-new; nothing marred its polished floors or walls, the lighting strong. Bright and shiny indeed, Gomez thought. She noted the gleaming ebony wall paneling complete with computer access was now narrower than previous designs and the designers had added an attractive green border on both edges. The entire station felt built for comfort first, work second, and that was the reverse of her experience in the service.

Kesh-Mara, a Grazerite, approached the party and welcomed them to the station. To Gomez, it was hard to read his expression given his lack of eyebrows and relatively smooth features. From his body language, he was definitely proud of the station.

“Welcome, welcome,” he repeated after Gomez introduced her team.

“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

Kesh-Mara looked at his feet a moment and then answered. “It’s the damndest thing. We blew out an entire bank of EPS circuits without any record of a power surge.”

Conlon frowned at that, drawing a look from Gomez.

“Ever hear of that?”

Gomez admitted she had not, which got her curious. “I suppose we should go have a look for ourselves. Nancy and I can take care of that. Tev, stick around and see what more you can learn from Mr. Kesh-Mara.”

The second officer’s eyes grew wide in surprise but he kept silent. Gomez still wasn’t sure what to make of the Tellarite, who had been aboard only a few weeks and seemed a know-it-all, which he probably was but didn’t have to demonstrate it with regularity. She pondered that as Conlon accompanied her and a guide to the station’s core.

“I read that they used state-of-the-art circuitry plus some experimental stuff,” Conlon said.

“Is ‘stuff’ a technical term I missed at the Academy?”

“Nope. The ‘stuff’ is similar to bioneural gel packs they started rolling out on the larger starships. Supposed to boost long-range sensor efficiency, which something like this would need.”

“You really are a geek at heart, you know that,” Gomez kidded her counterpart.

“You bet, Commander Kettle,” Conlon quipped.

“Well, they stuck this near the Tallarian border to keep an eye on the Cardassian rebuilding, trying to cut down on piracy and black market goods.” In fact, Gomez noted she was behind in her security briefings on the region, something she didn’t think she’d need to know before the assignment came through. Goes to show you need to read everything Command sends out.

A moment later, they stood before a lengthy stretch of corridor that was missing several wall panels, exposing the inner workings of the station. Conlon immediately pulled out her tricorder and started taking readings. Gomez preferred to look with her own eyes first, make her own observations before getting the just-the-facts readouts. Scorch marks still could be seen on the piping above and below where the EPS circuits originally sat. The charred, twisted remains of the EPS circuits themselves were a mess of fused wiring and isolinear chips. With a sniff, she could still catch a whiff of the initial explosion, trapped and preserved behind the panels. To her, it seemed a familiar and unremarkable odor.

She grinned.

Conlon looked up from her tricorder and saw the smile.

“This I can handle.”

“Blown circuits?”

“After running naked through the rain on Ferenginar, showing Tev more of me than a subordinate should ever see, this is a dream.”

“What do you make of him?”

“Brilliant. His expertise will certainly be an asset,” Gomez replied, reaching inside to get a feel for the wreckage.

“You don’t find him…well, annoying?”

Gomez paused a moment. Then she grinned again. “I didn’t say that, Nancy. Now, what do you find?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. No trace elements that are out of place, no sign of tampering…”

“Which their security guy told Corsi,” Gomez said, indicating the conversation held en route to the station.

“Good. Could have been a bad set of circuits. Happens.”

“Still damn odd,” Conlon said. She reached to feel the same areas where Gomez already conducted her own inspection. There were ragged edges and a few smudges rubbed off on her fingers. There was absolutely nothing suspicious, just a bad glitch.

“Where’s the station’s chief engineer?” Gomez asked the guide, an Andorian whose name she had forgotten.

“Overseeing the arrival of the replacement EPS circuits,” he said.

“Well, he can replace this. There’s really nothing for us to do here,” Gomez said.

Minutes later, the pair found Tev and Kesh-Mara in the latter’s plush office. They declined refreshments and reported their lack of information.

“Well, they did rush things a bit,” Kesh-Mara admitted, his voice surprisingly soft.

Gomez said, “Before Starfleet puts anything into operation, be it a starship or a starbase, they test everything within a micron of specs. Wouldn’t something like this have been discovered?”

“It’s only our largest problem, Commander,” Kesh-Mara said. “We’ve had numerous minor glitches, too. It’s getting tiresome, to be honest. More for the repair teams than me, but this goes beyond a shakedown period.”

“Starfleet borrowed certain design and manufacturing techniques pioneered by the Cardassians in the building of their Nor space stations,” Tev said, interrupting the commandant’s next comment. Gomez shot him a look of disapproval while Conlon showed interest in his comment. “Deep Space 10 is the largest example of that and this all may be the result of a steeper than expected learning curve.”

“Could it be that simple?” Conlon asked Gomez.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she replied.

CHAPTER

2

Now

“That was just the first visit?”

Lense gave Sarjenka an unhappy look and nodded. “We were there a few more times and each seemed like such a waste.”

“And now…”

“And now…” Lense echoed. She watched as Sarjenka finished pulling the data from the computer and began reviewing it. Good, let the kid do the scut work, she thought. Turning, Lense was ready to go back to her more comfortable office chair.

“Wait a second, where is the blood infuser?”

“In the cabinet to your left,” the Dreman replied.

“I keep it by the door, in that cabinet,” Lense said harshly, gesturing in a vague direction. Sarjenka saw that it could mean one of two cabinets and shook her head, not comprehending the doctor’s hostility.

“We won’t need it now, but I want it back in its place,” Lense ordered and walked out of the room.

“Of course, Doctor,” Sarjenka said.

Lense hoped that when she opened the cabinet, there’d be a spot where a blood infuser would neatly fit.

Sarjenka had already managed to start making friends among the crew, something Lense herself struggled with despite living aboard the da Vinci for more than a year now. And that length of time had suddenly grown a lot more finite, as her right hand absently stroked her swelling abdomen.

“She hates me,” Sarjenka said as Conlon walked in the cabin. The engineer noted that Sarjenka hadn’t finished putting her things in order, despite a promise to do so days earlier. Everything the woman did indicated she wasn’t ready to really live on the ship.

“Now what?” Conlon prompted, avoiding meeting her eyes. Instead, she made a show of folding her uniform top as she changed into her sleeping attire.

“Now it seems I can’t do inventory to her liking.”

Conlon slipped out of her pants, again folding them neatly and hanging them in the closet they shared. “And how does she like it?”

“Is that the point?” Sarjenka did not seem to be getting the point of hanging up the clothes.

“Well, I know how I like the tools to be stored in engineering and it’s not quite as directed in the manual. I find myself fighting with Fabe about where we keep the common tools. I suspect Captain Scott would approve since it’s my engine room, but he’s as unique as they come.” Conlon seated herself on the edge of her bunk, brushing her hair.

Sarjenka’s face fell. “I know it’s her space and she’s allowed to have things her way, but she never explains her way to me. My people aren’t mind readers.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Conlon said with a smile.

Sarjenka didn’t return the smile and just sat on her bed. “I spent the rest of the shift reviewing information about DS10.”

“Amazing place, isn’t it?” Conlon asked, enthusiasm in her voice.

“If you say so; you’re the engineer.”

“I practically had to beg to stay involved when we went back a second time. It’s got cutting-edge stuff you’d never see on a ship.”

“Could those cutting-edge things be causing the atmospheric problems?”

“I doubt it,” the engineer replied. “They’ve been cursed.” Conlon put the brush down, ready to get some rest before the mission began in earnest. “Sarj, did you ask Lense to explain her ways?”

“No. She’s the superior officer and I assumed she would show me around. Dantas has been more helpful and I outrank her!”

Conlon wrapped her arms around a raised knee and collected her thoughts. She wanted the whining to end and make the conversation productive. If they were going to live together, she had to live by her own words.

“Sarj, because she’s your commanding officer, if you suspect she has her own ways, you should be asking. There are forty-three of us on this ship, and if we don’t make an effort to get along, meet each other halfway whenever possible, there will be fights in the corridors every hour. And you’ll have no time to get mad at Lense, because you’ll be setting bones.”

She sat silently for a few moments and Conlon had not yet learned to read her more subtle expressions or body language. That would come in time, she hoped. Finally Sarjenka let out a small smile. “I got top marks in bone knitting,” she said.

Conlon broke into a grin. There might be hope for the kid yet.

A few hours later, Conlon made sure Sarjenka was dressed and ready for a meal before they had to work. Dr. Sarjenka certainly knew the value of rest and Chief Engineer Conlon knew the equal value of fuel. The mess was a hive of activity as many of the alpha shift crew were clearly looking for the same quick meal. Haznedl and Wong were on their way out as the roommates walked in, exchanging quick nods.

Sarjenka was already at the food slots while Conlon scanned the room for friendly faces. Well, not that there were unfriendly ones, but the ones she wanted to enjoy before things went to hell, which was to be expected on these missions. She hurried over and ordered her own meal before joining the doctor at a table that was already accommodating Bart Faulwell and Tev. What an odd friendship, she thought, not for the first time. Mentally shrugging it off, she headed in that direction.

“Morning,” Faulwell said cheerfully. Of all the crew, the slightly older man was the one who usually put newcomers at ease. Conlon nodded, already grabbing her spoon and digging into her steaming bowl of what she liked to refer to as “mush.”

“So, Sarjenka, what’s our chief engineer like first thing in the morning?” he asked amiably, lingering over a cup of tea.

“Firing on all plasma injectors,” Sarjenka said, clearly making an effort. It earned her a smile from Faulwell and an odd look from Tev.

“I take it you’re not as quick to alertness,” Bart continued.

“Not without a few cc’s of cordrazine,” Sarjenka said around a mouthful of toast. “I manage.”

“I was explaining to Bartholomew what I suspect to be the problem on the station,” Tev said, abruptly changing the subject back to himself. Conlon figured she would just smile and nod; it seemed to work for most of the crew.

He looked for a prompt from around the table but, seeing none, went on anyway. “The systemic flaws must all be related to a miswiring of the ODN network. I suspect it happened during construction and with each error it has multiplied, stressing the systems until it caused a cascading failure.”

Conlon dropped her spoonful of mush with a loud “splooch” sound. “The whole network? Every matrix and relay? Wouldn’t that cause more than one problem, catastrophic as the current one is?”

“That’s a distinct possibility,” Tev agreed.

“But we have the one problem,” Conlon said.

“It might not be the whole network, simply one of the matrices,” the Tellarite argued.

“Tegor would have found it on inspection long before now,” she said hotly, trying not to let the know-it-all second officer get to her.

“I never had the opportunity to work with him,” he said, raising his voice for emphasis.

He’d be getting his chance, Conlon considered, as her mind drifted back to the last time she had worked with the station’s chief of operations.

Six Months Ago

Conlon was just putting away her tools, having tweaked the matter injectors because she was bored, when her combadge signaled. She tapped it with one hand while placing the hyperspanner in its locker.

“Lieutenant, I have the chief engineer at Deep Space 10 asking to speak with you,” Shabalala said from the bridge.

Conlon frowned. She had been on the station two months ago and hadn’t even met the engineer. The visit was so brief and inconsequential that she was mystified as to what he might want. Standing and brushing off some dust, she walked to her master console and said, “Pipe it down here, Tony.”

Moments later, the dark features of an Icorian stared at her. He was dusky skinned, leaning toward the purples and grays, with white streaks in his close-cropped hair. He looked anything but happy.

“This is Nancy Conlon.”

“I know. I asked for you. Tegor.”

Well, isn’t he a friendly one? “How can I help?”

“More glitches.”

“What sort?”

“All minor, to be honest. Programming errors, misapplied chips, but it’s a higher percentage than Kesh-Mara is happy with.”

“Something your size is bound to have things go a little wonky the first few months, right?”

“This seems to go beyond that.”

“Is there anything you can’t fix?”

He visibly stiffened on the screen, which impressed her since he seemed stiff to begin with. “My team was handpicked by me, and nothing has proven beyond our capabilities. However, the errors persist. We’ve got one of the contractors coming back for a look and I’ve been asked to invite you to join us.” He didn’t want her there, that much was clear from his tone, but orders were orders. She understood that, too.

“Understood, Tegor.” She could tell his pride was wounded and would need to work gingerly around him. “I’ll talk to Captain Gold and be in touch when we’re en route.”

Kesh-Mara once again greeted the away team from the da Vinci, which consisted of Nancy along with Sonya Gomez and Fabian Stevens. The Grazerite smiled as readily as before, but this time it seemed forced. Standing beside the commandant was Tegor, short and stocky and looking as happy to see them as he was when extending the invitation. Nearby stood someone not in uniform, but in something brown, stiff, and uncomfortable looking. Nancy recognized her as a Bajoran but something was off about her.

“Kesla Randu, contractor, may the Prophets be with you,” she said, shooting out a well-manicured hand. Gomez took the hand and shook it once. She quickly introduced the rest of her team and Kesla repeated the greeting to each one, her smile revealing brilliant white teeth.

“Sorry to bring you back, Commander,” Kesh-Mara said finally. “But these problems seem to be continuing so there has to be a reason.”

“I agree,” Sonya said amiably. “And I like having us do something a little more in keeping with our mission.”

“Oh?”

“We just finished putting a bad businessman out of action. A little too much high finance and finagling for my taste. We’re looking forward to this.”

“You handled Rod Portlyn,” Randu said excitedly, finally joining the conversation. “I heard about that from the Federation News Service specials. Nice work. Really.”

“Just another day at the office,” Sonya said, looking slightly embarrassed by the attention.

“Shall we get started, then?” Tegor said, clearly not one for chitchat.

“By all means,” Nancy replied. She hefted her toolbox and gestured with it for the station’s chief engineer to lead them on. Kesla Randu followed, keeping her own counsel.

“Any theories?” Sonya asked her fellow commander.

“None. I don’t want to suspect the worst from people. This is a new station, using some new techniques in its construction, as your man said on your last visit. Any time you try something new, the unforeseen happens.”

“A fellow optimist, I see,” Fabian said with a laugh.

Kesh-Mara exhaled. “I try.”

Tegor took them several decks below and deeper within the bowels of the station than they had seen before. Nancy stared in happy fascination to see how some of the new circuit patterns were working and the way the modified gel packs were housed and monitored. She had enough leave saved that if she thought she could tolerate Tegor, and he her, she’d use a week’s time and poke around the station. Engineering was more than her job, but a passion, and here was a chance to indulge it a bit.

She glanced at Tegor, who seemed positively grim, and decided against requesting any leave.

As they walked, they would stop and he would gesture at something. The first time they stopped, he pointed to a doorway. “These doors refused to open for one hour and seventeen minutes,” he said. “Manual override didn’t work. Neither did rerouting the command sequences. Brute strength was useless, which pleased our security people.”

“What fixed it?” Sonya asked.

“Two of my people had to pull out every bolt and had to literally rebuild the door frame.”

Randu blinked at that, uncertainty in her eyes. Nancy figured the construction rep was worried that the door was her concern. When Tegor didn’t look her way, she visibly exhaled, causing Nancy to roll her eyes.

Every now and then Tegor paused as Sonya took a scan or Randu measured something and entered notes onto a padd. Nancy noted he wasn’t much for conversation or elaboration, probably one of those engineers who were very good with warp cores and unable to hold an extended conversation with real people. She encountered way too many of those types while studying at Starfleet Academy. Fortunately, they mostly wound up doing research, where they seemed happiest.

“Have any of these incidents been life threatening?”

“No, Ms. Kesla.”

Fabian grinned. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens.”

“What happened here?” Sonya asked.

“Isolinear chips glitched, rerouting wastewater away from the recyclers.”

“How does that happen?”

“I think that’s why we’re all looking around.”

And so it went. Nancy figured Tegor and Tev would get along just swell. She was getting to know the second officer somewhat better but still thought someone needed to take him down a peg or two. Still, he let her work her way, which kept the peace for now.

Two hours later, there was still no real sense of a common thread linking the problems. Nancy was beginning to think it might be a contractor problem and that Tev, Lord help her, was right, and they maybe rushed with the unfamiliar.

As they finally returned to the commandant’s office, Kesla Randu excused herself to contact her firm. Once she left, Nancy leaned into Sonya and said softly, “I figured it out.”

“What? The problem?”

“No, Kesla. She’s the first happy-looking Bajoran I’ve ever seen. Everyone else has been so…somber.”

Sonya nodded and then broke into a smile when she saw her shipmate P8 Blue talking with Kesh-Mara. The structural engineer was introduced to Tegor, who only nodded at her. Kesla, walking back from her call, was friendlier and genuinely interested in talking with the Nasat. No doubt the Bajoran woman had never spoken with Pattie’s species before.

“What did you learn?”

“The station is fine,” Pattie said in her clicking voice. “The exterior is also fine. This list of problems has not threatened the integrity of the station.”

“Good,” Tegor said.

“Everything is within the design specs,” Pattie added.

“Well, of course,” the Bajoran said proudly. “Maybe we’ve seen the last of these problems.”

“Famous last words,” Nancy whispered to Sonya, who nodded.

CHAPTER

3

Now

“Approaching Deep Space 10,” Wong said.

“You beat the estimate,” Gold said admiringly.

“All part of the service,” he replied.

“Station keeping, please.” He turned to his first officer. “What’s the plan, Gomez?”

“Nancy and I will poke around and see what’s wrong, fix it, and let everyone take a deep breath.”

“And when that doesn’t work the first time?” he asked wryly.

“Then I have Domenica coordinate with their security chief, send Pattie in search of something structural, and we get serious.”

“As opposed to the first time you and Conlon tampered with their systems.”

“Pretty much.”

“Get started. I can only imagine the panic they’re feeling. In fact, let’s skip part one, and get serious the first time.”

Gomez nodded once and gestured to Tev, who silently watched the banter, clearly not amused. Gomez didn’t much care, given that banter was something humans perfected, while Tellarites were better at the craft of arguing. Together, they left the bridge and collected a variety of tools before heading to the transporter. Already awaiting them were P8 Blue, Corsi, Lense, and someone else behind the tall security chief. As the bodies shifted, Gomez saw it was Lauoc Saon, the much more compactly built Bajoran security guard. She hadn’t gotten to know him well, but saw that Corsi had given him high ratings so that was good enough for her.

Lense began handing out rebreathers, which the engineer appreciated. As they affixed the device to their uniforms, Gomez addressed her team.

“Okay, team, here’s the protocol. It’s their station but they called us in to fix the problem. Elizabeth, you’re with Nancy and me to check the source of the problem. Pattie, until we need you, keep alert. Tev, you monitor everything from the control room. Let’s get the job done and let them have the station back in one piece. We tell them everything we’re doing and also share whatever we find along the way. We’re all Starfleet here so let’s not get caught up in boundary issues—it’ll just waste time and needlessly piss someone off.”

The heads nodded or bobbed in agreement as they took the platform. Laura Poynter was ready to execute the order but paused to wish them luck before engaging the transporter.

Moments later, the team had rematerialized on the station and Gomez could already tell how foul the air was getting. Lauoc was slipping the clear plastic mask of the rebreather over his wrinkled nose. Lense had begun scanning with her tricorder and Gomez spotted Kesh-Mara and Tegor approaching. Neither looked happy, which was no surprise.

“We have implemented emergency conditions, keeping people closer together, feeding fresh air to fewer portions of the station,” Tegor said brusquely.

“As the captain recommended,” Gomez said approvingly.

“Actually, as Commander Kesh-Mara ordered,” the Icorian said.

Gomez held her breath to avoid saying something and then choked as she stifled a cough brought on by the stale air. She quickly introduced her team and then asked the commandant to have Corsi meet with the station security chief. With a nod of her head, she indicated that she was getting to work. Everyone knew his or her role so they hurried off and as they did, Gomez mulled over whether or not she’d find an actual gremlin causing the havoc.

Five Months Ago

“Plasma manifolds just don’t shut down on their own,” Kesh-Mara complained from the viewscreen. In his cabin, David Gold looked at the bewildered expression on the Grazerite’s face.

“No, they don’t.”

“Replicators also don’t suddenly delete personal menu options.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And don’t start me on the waste reclamation issue.”

“I won’t.” His smile didn’t get one in return. Obviously Kesh-Mara was having more than his share of problems. Anything new will have its share of shakedown issues, but Kesh-Mara was certainly right, this had gone on longer than it should have. “Does Tegor have any new theories?”

“Nothing repeatable over an open comm system.”

“Understood. Is he able to repair everything?”

“He’s got an excellent team under him. In fact, I have a fix-it wiz named Ajit Ross who would be a credit to your team. He’s tackled most of these and everything he’s touched has stayed fixed.”

Gold was somewhat amused at the praise since most commanders think they have people good enough for the S.C.E., but just because they can fix a starship or starbase doesn’t always mean they have what it takes for the sheer variety of problems his people handled. He was proud of his own team and for a moment he wasn’t sure when was the last time he had said that out loud. His veterans like Stevens and Blue knew the opinion, but the many newcomers over the last year might not be aware of his feelings. Something for later.

“…and I want you to consider this seriously.”

“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” He hadn’t realized he wasn’t listening to the commander anymore.

“I said, Captain, after six months I think this is more than manufacturing defects. I suspect someone is out to distract us from our job.”

“Sabotage?”

“Can you rule it out?”

“No. What about your security chief?”

“He has no solid evidence but agrees the sheer volume is starting to look suspicious. Can you come back for a more extended look?”

“We have a currently scheduled mission; let me see what I can do,” Gold said noncommittally. He signed off from Kesh-Mara and asked Gomez to join him in his cabin.

Minutes later, Gomez walked in and was invited to sit. She had an expectant look on her face and Gold quickly filled her in on the conversation.

“Sabotage?”

“On the surface, it sounds pretty drastic,” Gold admitted.

“Sir, sabotage would disable the entire station at a critical time. These are, well, just a large number of glitches. I suspect the contractors were hurried, given the amount of rebuilding still going on across the Federation.”

“Could be.”

Gomez’s eyes widened at the comment. She shook her thick, black hair in disbelief. “You’re not coming around to his way of thinking?”

“No, not quite. I am, though, thinking we need something simple to investigate after the moral quagmire on Mariposa.”

“If it is sabotage, then it could be dangerous.”

“I thought I’ve seen it all,” Gold said quietly. “My instincts say these are all too random to be something intentional but there’s no overt threat. Let’s complete the mission to Bundinal and see what happens.”

“Aye, sir, but I think you’re looking for gremlins where none exist.”

“Gremlins?” Gold asked, cocking an eyebrow at his second in command.

“A technical term, sir,” she replied, keeping her expression straight.

CHAPTER

4

Now

Kesh-Mara escorted Corsi, Lauoc, Tev, and Pattie to the station’s command center. Similar to a starship bridge, it was round but had three levels and four massive viewscreens. In the centermost tier stood an older man, a white-haired Andorian, impossibly thin, hands gripping the sides of a console. His antennae snapped to life before he turned his head and then studied the group approaching him.

“Lieutenant Commander Fesoan, this is Lieutenant Commander Corsi from the da Vinci.”

“And you’re here, with a guard no less, because—?”

“Because your commander thinks the sabotage aboard the station has gone on long enough,” Corsi said. Already she could tell Fesoan was not going to be a joy to work with. The cold tone of his voice said that by stepping onto the station, she was invading his turf. Despite Gomez’s words, they never extended to security officers. This was his station.

“And you will find something I have missed?”

“I’m not suggesting that at all. Our ship is here to fix the mechanical problem. While here, my captain thought we might lend assistance.” There, that should please Gomez, Corsi thought.

“I see.” He wasn’t budging.

“I’d like to review your security logs dating to the beginning of the current problem and a workstation where I can be out of your way,” Corsi said, forcing herself to maintain a light tone.

“Whatever you require,” Fesoan said, although the sarcasm in his tone wasn’t missed by anyone. He snapped his fingers and from an upper tier, she heard boot steps approaching.

“Duglos?”

Corsi turned first to see Lauoc smile, an altogether rare sight, and then swiveled to see what brought on this uncharacteristic expression. Reaching their level was a red-haired woman, some years younger than her. Appraisingly, she noted how well the woman filled out the uniform, but everything seemed toned.

Lauoc then strode forward and lifted the slightly taller woman into the air in a hug, eliciting a happy squeal.

“Ahem,” Corsi said pointedly.

“Sorry, uh—Commander Corsi, let me introduce you to Duglos Orna. We trained together.”

The Andorian said, “Orna, escort the lieutenant commander to Security Office Bravo 1 and provide her access to whatever she desires.”

“Aye, Commander.”

Corsi turned to speak first with Pattie, but her Nassat colleague was already across the cavernous operations center speaking with a Bajoran woman. She quickly surmised this must be the contractor representative, Kesla Randu. Corsi thought it interesting the woman was back aboard the station during the current crisis. Filing the notion away, she followed Orna to the nearest turbolift, noting it was one of four serving the center.

“How long have you served here?” she heard Lauoc ask.

“Since we opened for business,” Orna replied. “But what about you, I heard you got assigned the Abraxas, but that’s all.”

The soft whine of the turbolift’s motion filled the small cabin as the Bajoran fell silent. Corsi knew why and suspected he’d rather discuss this with his old friend in private. Feeling for him, she spoke up instead. “I stole him about ten months back and we’ve been pretty fortunate to have him.”

“I bet. Have you ever seen him take on more than one opponent? He’s always preferred steep odds.”

“That I have,” Corsi said with a smile.

“We used to take bets on how many he could handle at once,” Orna added.

That caught Lauoc’s attention. “You did?”

“Once we twigged to your predilection for trouble,” she said. “The whole time we were training, I never once paid my own bar tab.”

Before entering the environmental systems, Tegor, Gomez, Conlon, and Lense paused to don clean suits, all a brilliant white with clear faceplates. They were snug outfits and Gomez marveled at how pregnant Lense was suddenly looking. She was fairly certain children weren’t in her own future and always suspected the same about Lense, but the doctor was keeping the child, conceived with a man from another universe no less. A small Sabre-class ship was no place for a family and clearly this meant Lense had some decisions to make. Her second trimester was winding down and as Gomez reviewed her basic biology, the last trimester could prove the most difficult one. Lense’s effectiveness on away missions would be compromised and should the ship ever come under attack, Lense could prove a distraction to the captain, conscious or not.

More and more, it seemed like Gold did the right thing by being proactive and recruiting Sarjenka to come aboard. She was coming to like the Dreman, based on the way she handled things on Betrisius. She made a mental note to have a meal with the young doctor when this was over.

“Everyone ready?” Tegor’s deep voice came clearly through the small speaker by her ear.

After agreements all around, they opened the airtight door and entered the environmental control center. While mainly automated, it had one or two crew members normally on duty. They had been relocated to one of the eateries, per Kesh-Mara’s instructions. All that was left to greet the quartet was bank after bank of controls, mostly flashing reds or ambers. The few green telltales were scattered on the schematics. Tegor led them slowly by each bank of controls, allowing Conlon or Gomez to pause and study the readouts. Lense was testing the air with her medical tricorder and remained silent.

“The filters have totally failed,” Lense said, her voice grave. “Within seven hours everyone needs to be on masks or off the station.”

“Understood,” Gomez replied. “Nancy, what do you make of it?”

“Signals are flowing in, but the commands aren’t triggering the filters to function. I’ll need to trace things, possibly signal by signal.”

“What about your backups, Tegor?”

“They never activated and seem to be locked in a diagnostic loop. I’d have to pull out the entire unit and rebuild it, which will take more than seven hours.”

“Nancy, get started on the trace. Elizabeth, something scrambling this many signals indicates intent. But let’s be thorough. I want to check the gas tanks, make sure this wasn’t a distraction to further poison the population.”

“You have a suspicious mind, you know that,” Lense said.

“Experience,” Gomez said. “You study the Jem’Hadar and Dominion atrocities, you understand what people are capable of doing.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Lense said.

Gomez paused, hesitating, and caught the doctor’s eye. Lense narrowed her gaze and seemed to be silently questioning whatever the first officer was not saying. Gomez was hesitant, but absolutely convinced what she wanted to say was the right thing. It just wasn’t going to win her any points.

“According to the station plans I studied before arriving, accessing those tanks means using narrow corridors. Plus a lot of climbing ladders. In fact, to be thorough, there’s going to be some crawling going on.”

“So? I’ve been crawling since I was seven months old.”

“I’d prefer it…I’d rather if Sarjenka did the crawling this time. She’s smaller than you and could do this more easily. Plus, she’s had more experience in tight confines than you.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

They glared at each other in silence until Gomez, feeling less than thrilled with the exchange, spoke up. “No. But today, right now, that’s how it needs to be. I’ll have her beamed over. You can monitor from the command center.”

“Fine.” Without another glance or word, the doctor stomped to the door and exited as quickly as the mechanism would allow. Gomez believed she made the right call but also recognized that making tough calls was going to get harder in the weeks ahead. She activated her clean suit’s combadge and issued the order for Sarjenka to come to the DS10. Next, she contacted Corsi.

“I want Lauoc to accompany Sarjenka in the examination.”

“You expecting trouble in the tank storage?”

“Expecting? No. But I’m not entirely sure what we’re dealing with nor am I certain how experienced she might be with booby traps. Better he go with her.”

“You sure you’re not a mother hen?”

“Domenica, this is hard enough with Lense feeling betrayed or replaced. Let’s leave motherhood to her alone.”

“He’ll meet her at the tanks. Corsi out.”

She looked up, hoping to avoid discussing her actions with either Conlon or Tegor and was happy to see them ignoring her. In fact, they were practically whispering between themselves, digging through the circuits. Watching in satisfaction, she took a step forward to lend her assistance, then recognized there really wasn’t a place for her. Instead, she’d best report back to the command center herself, even if it meant sharing space with the less-than-happy Lense.

“Just get his butt up here and we can settle this!”

“We have no grounds for disturbing him from his job.”

“It’s just a few questions. Was he planning to blow something up today and would we be disturbing him?”

“It’s not my habit to interrupt people while they are conducting their business.”

Corsi’s voice carried better than Fesoan’s, she knew, and she was hoping the vehemence of her words would be heard by Kesh-Mara before they actually got in front of him to argue the next step. As they climbed down the steps, the two tiers to reach the core, the argument, which had begun levels below, continued. Corsi watched as various personnel turned their heads in amazement to see anyone arguing with their security chief. Once they saw it was a fellow officer, but not a DS10er, they returned to their work. Kesh-Mara, though, had put down a padd and seemed to listen intently as they approached.

“Have you learned something?”

“Maybe.”

“Not yet.”

He looked at Fesoan, which was only right and proper, even though it denied Corsi the ability to make her case in her own words.

“Commander, the security logs show no one tampering with the environmental controls. A careful study also shows the logs have not been altered. We are no closer to apprehending anyone.”

“Then who does Commander Corsi want to interrogate?”

“The lieutenant commander wishes to question Win lorin Ren, a trader.” Corsi was rapidly growing to dislike Fesoan’s habit of stating her full rank rather than the accepted “commander,” but this Andorian seemed born with the rule book already memorized.

“Has Ren done something to merit questioning?” Kesh-Mara asked Corsi directly. Finally! An opportunity to plead her case.

“I had cross-referenced the personnel manifests corresponding to each incident. Since the number of anomalies was slight, I turned my attention to those passing through the station. There, I found the reverse, a small number of people here during most of the incidents. And only Ren was here just before or during each and every occurrence. I want to ask him some questions to clear him from consideration.”

Kesh-Mara turned to his security chief and, given his limited facial expressions, seemed to indicate it was Fesoan’s turn to explain the objection.

“Coincidence is not sufficient to question someone,” he said diffidently.

“Or it could be the link,” Kesh-Mara said gently. He paused, thinking, and Corsi wished she could read his body language. Still, she sensed her point had not been ignored but wished she could be given a free hand to act. Sometimes it was easier for her to do her job on some foreign world, away from fellow officers.

“One man, and one man alone, does raise questions in my mind,” Kesh-Mara said. Corsi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fesoan merely frowned. “A few questions could solve our problem and it’s worth pursuing. But I want Fesoan to ask the questions since the station is his responsibility. Commander Corsi may observe as a courtesy.”

Corsi now felt herself frowning, matching her counterpart.

“As you wish,” she said as evenly as she knew how. Fesoan, still unhappy, went to make the arrangements. The station commander returned his attention to the padd in his hand and that left Corsi feeling adrift. She stepped away from the station’s center and contacted the ship to bring Gold up to date.

Gold asked a question or two and then agreed with Kesh-Mara over the course of action. She suspected he had to support the station commander at this point but it didn’t mean it changed how she felt.

“I have new information for you now,” Gold said after a moment’s pause.

“Go ahead.”

“It’s Shabalala,” a new voice said over the comm. “We’ve taken very detailed sensor sweeps of the area and are detecting trace particle emissions that match Breen vessels.”

“Breen?” Corsi was immediately incredulous. “They’re not the subtle type.”

“I agree.” It was Gold again. “Still, I want you to check the station’s own sensor sweeps and see if it picked up any Breen related to the other incidents.”

“Will do, although my gut says this is a wild-goose chase.”

“Be that as it may. I want this done by the book so we get this settled without anyone saying my crew missed something.” Even he was feeling the Us versus Them tension growing. Interesting, but not helpful.

“Captain, I just want to point out if it is the Breen, the da Vinci isn’t the right ship for a battle.”

“Noted and agreed. Do your homework and let’s see what you find.”

“Not a problem, sir. Corsi out.” As she tapped off, her mind wandered back to when she first started taking Deep Space 10’s problems seriously and wondered if she should have paid attention sooner.

Two Months Ago

Nancy Conlon was enjoying a break from an engine inspection, sharing coffee with Domenica Corsi, who was just coming off shift herself. It was quiet in the mess hall and they chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying it.

“Gold to Corsi.”

Eyebrows turning into a frown, she tapped her badge.

“Deep Space 10 is having more troubles and I think they’ve cried wolf long enough.”

“Sir?”

“Come to my ready room,” Gold asked.

Nancy tapped her own badge. “Sir, it’s Conlon. May I join you?”

“The more the merrier.”

“What’s going on?” Corsi asked, grabbing her mug and bringing it to the recycler.

“You remember,” Nancy prompted. “We’ve been there a few times already and ever since the place opened, they’ve had all these low-level glitches. A few weeks back, Commander Gomez began to think it was sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” That seemed to get Corsi’s attention, like waving raw steak before a wolf. Nancy chuckled at the notion of how easy Corsi was to put on the scent.

“Yeah.”

“Has anything happened?”

“Nothing serious yet. The operative word being yet.”

“I hear you.”

Moments later they were in the ready room and Conlon was not surprised to see Sonya already waiting with the captain. Neither seemed thrilled over the latest turn of events. As they took their seats, Gomez continued to fill the security chief in on the litany of problems.

“So, we’re going back?” Nancy asked.

“Each time we’ve found nothing wrong. Everything is within specs,” Sonya said. “It’s a pain.”

“Corsi, do you see something we’re missing?”

“No, Captain. They sound like random shakedown issues. I’d have to do more reading of the logs to be certain.”

Sonya said, “Sir, after their last call, I did take the time to investigate the maintenance logs. Tegor runs a tight crew and everything so far is random. No pattern suggests itself. Someone, probably the contractors, screwed up.”

Gold flashed a brief grin and then his features became serious again. “Look, I don’t want to keep going back there or keep taking Kesh-Mara’s calls. But, sooner or later, all this smoke is going to reveal a fire. I want to make sure that the station and its staff are safe.”

“I’m not seeing a security threat,” Corsi added.

Gold thought a moment and then tapped his combadge. “Gold to Wong.” Gomez and Corsi shot him questioning looks. Conlon sat back, just watching.

“Here, sir.”

“I need your financial acumen. Call up the specs on DS10 and see who was hired to build it. Then research the contractors and let me know if any red flags suggest themselves.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Okay, we’ll stay away until there’s a compelling reason to go back. Just the same, Corsi, monitor their situation and let’s see what happens.”

Conlon sat there, thinking about the problems that had occurred, how far apart they were, how long they took to correct, and no pattern magically appeared before her. Still, there had to be a cause and it was a situation that wasn’t going to correct itself. She suspected they’d be headed back to the station.

CHAPTER

5

Now

Seated in the room housing the massive relays and backup systems, set off from the main environmental controls, Nancy saw the mountain of isolinear chips grow, plus the ODN lines were threatening to get tangled. She and Tegor had fallen into a professional alliance, exchanging technical tidbits that eased the tension between them. They had already determined that a simple command had prevented the emergency air supplies, located around the station, from being released. That bit of code had been triggered when the backup systems seized, also from a computer command.

“The magnetic coil assembly checks out fine,” Nancy said.

“All eight stages?” Tegor asked.

“Nominal.”

They kept the conversation clipped and he seemed thoroughly disinterested in any observation or comment not related to the work at hand. Once she learned that, they got along just fine. She loved getting her hands dirty like this, actually pulling things apart and figuring out where the glitch was. Too often, it was repair by tricorder and remote tools, which was all well and good, but not why she got into the business. Much like every engineer she encountered, she had been taking things apart to examine how they worked since just after she could locomote. Starfleet was the best place for an engineer, she learned early on, and she wanted to get into alien artifacts and ship’s engines, which meant she aimed her career at the S.C.E., and she was thrilled to be accepted aboard one of their ships. She hadn’t regretted a single moment with the da Vinci, although, if pushed, would admit to wanting more time exploring some of the planets they visited. Nancy had recognized that she had wanderlust and used her leave time to visit exotic locales.

“A-ha!”

“A-ha?”

“It’s a technical term,” she said automatically, imagining the disapproving look Tegor was giving her. Rather than see the obvious, she kept her gaze focused on the set of chip relays she had just opened up. “Tegor, look at the wiring.”

“I can see from here—it’s all wrong.”

“Miswired. That’s why they didn’t engage. They were receiving signals to activate but weren’t able to comply as configured.”

Tegor shuffled along the floor and looked over her shoulder. The pile of chips by her side spilled over and made a racket but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he reached by her and pulled out one of the misplaced chips. He examined its markings with great intensity and then tossed it atop the others.

“Deliberate. All from this section, but carefully inserted so as not to trigger alarms, just not work.”

“So, we’re dealing with a smart one,” she offered.

“Indeed. They know exactly how to disable this station.” He paused in thought and then tapped his badge, summoning members of his own team. “I have a mess that needs cleaning up,” was all he told them.

“Tegor, I have a Bynar aboard the ship who could help get the programming back online now that we know where to look. He’ll get it done faster than we can ever hope to do it.”

“You mean they,” he corrected her.

“No, his partner died a year ago. He’s adjusted and is now one of the crew.”

“Indeed.” He fell silent, moving chips about to clear space, and since he didn’t object, Nancy called the ship and asked to have Soloman beamed over.

“Something else troubling you, Tegor?”

“I miss my wilk,” he said.

“Your what?”

“Wilk, it’s a four-legged, shaggy pet on my home-world,” he said, his voice softening. Nancy felt a wave of sympathy wash over her, making her reevaluate her fellow engineer. “We’re not allowed pets on the station and I had to leave her with my brother’s family. She was a wonderful companion.”

“With everything happening to your station, you need that companionship,” Nancy said in understanding. “Growing up, I had a pet ferret, something like a rodent but very adaptable to home life. I’d come home from school and he was always waiting for me. I miss him.”

“She always loved me, whether my day was good or bad,” Tegor said and slumped into silence.

“We’ve seen by now that this wasn’t malfeasance on your part,” she said, wanting to help. “In fact, you’ve kept things running despite these glitches—that’s impressive.”

Minutes later, Soloman arrived in the company of three other engineers from Tegor’s team, all in clean suits. Tegor didn’t bother to introduce anyone and just began directing them to get the chips restored in their proper places. Nancy briefed Soloman in greater detail than the initial communication and he listened intently, his eyes growing wide in disbelief.

“Who would sabotage the air itself?”

“I wish I knew,” Tegor said from across the room. “The computer is speaking but the systems aren’t listening.”

“It’s a subtle form of problem,” Soloman noted, already picking up loose chips. “Actually artful in how it was done so the cascade effect would paralyze the systems and then the backups. It carefully saw to it the station would be rendered uninhabitable over a fairly short duration.”

“Follow me to the main control room.” Soloman glanced at Nancy, who smiled at him, and watched him go. Once they left the backup room, she turned and introduced herself to the engineers who were already restoring order.

“Imra Ardeen.”

“Ajit Ross.”

“Roger Zeile.”

They seemed to visibly relax around Conlon and they talked a little shop as the mountain of isolinear chips shrank. Various indicators started to shift back to their proper green and they all seemed pleased with the progress. Conlon was beginning to think evacuation wouldn’t be necessary because of the air. Evacuation because of a saboteur, though, grew larger in her thoughts.

Pattie was used to waiting for her specific area of expertise to be needed. Her people were known for their patience and their deliberateness, something that had proven a detriment compared with other Federation worlds. She had hoped by now more of her people would join Starfleet and learn other ways to get work done, but that had not happened. Normally, she didn’t dwell on her homeworld and its glacial progress, but she was stuck in the command center, waiting. She could talk to Tev, but found she had nothing to say to him.

Kesla Randu, though, might have something to share. Pattie heard her steps clack against the deck carpeting, and so did Kesla, who turned from a comm and smiled at her. She held up a finger, completed her conversation, and closed the signal.

“I had no idea you’d be back,” the Bajoran said with a smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Same here,” Pattie said. “I’d like to ask you about the work you did on the station.”

“Of course! You know, we completed the work three weeks early, earning us a nice bonus. My company actually sent me to Risa for a week as a thank you. Have you ever been? Amazing experiences, let me tell you!”

“I’m afraid my one visit there we were too busy fixing the weather grid to have any fun. I’d like to know about the Cardassian construction techniques you used.”

“Absolutely! When they built Terok Nor, they actually left a large number of backup files on Bajor. When they left, the files were neglected. Also, once they vacated the station, we crawled all over it to see how it worked. There are teraquads of information on that place. Now, of course, that stopped when Starfleet arrived to administer the station and then they moved it from Bajor to near the wormhole so that cut down our access. Still, we learned enough to try it out on some other projects.”

“Can you elaborate?” Pattie had hoped for concrete information rather than dissembling, but the woman at least proved a distraction from the wait.

“The Cardassian building program always starts from the center and builds out, as opposed to building the shell and filling it in. Following the plans, the central operating system and energy plant are placed using handheld tractor devices. From there, they are encased and conduits are built, then catwalks, then the wiring, ODN lines, EPS taps, and so on. Once that’s done, then they are encased in the deck plating and the construction continues. Took them three years to build Terok Nor.”

“That sounds as if it takes extra energy keeping everything in place until they can be closed up.”

“But we get everything right before covering them up, allowing us to make changes and not have to tear up walls or floors. It’s not for every project, but we think it has its place, and since it worked for Terok Nor, it certainly worked here. I’m telling you, it will revolutionize construction, which we need now that the Federation is in serious rebuilding mode.”

“So, business has been good for you?” Pattie inquired.

“Good? Let me tell you, we’ve barely been able to keep up. Skilled artisans—and that’s what I consider our work, art—are just tough to come by. Between war losses and voluntary rebuilding on Cardassia, it’s been a drain. A good structural specialist would be a valuable asset.”

Pattie had no interest in leaving the service, but she had to admit to being flattered by the offer. When she didn’t take the Bajoran up on the suggestion, Kesla continued on about how busy her company was. Pattie finally felt a need to interrupt the monologue.

“You don’t think something may have happened during construction that has led to these software failures?”

Kesla’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No! We had nothing to do with software. Our firm was strictly construction, hardware, and the like.”

“Could the vacuum of space or the tractors possibly corrupt the computer core as it was built?”

“Unlikely, Lieutenant.”

“I am a specialist, but thank you for the promotion,” Pattie said, the tinkling of her voice indicating a chuckle.

“Terok Nor had thirteen hull layers but Starfleet cut that down to eleven by thickening each toranium layer. Trust me; nothing was getting through the hull, including radiation that might screw with the software. We’ve used this technique before, as I said, and nothing of this nature has happened.”

“How thick is the kelnidide core?”

“Starfleet wanted 15.75 centimeters. We have them a full 16 because it was easier on our manufacturing facilities. No charge, either.”

“Which I’m sure was appreciated,” Pattie said mildly. “As you said, the problems appear to be software issues, but your people helped install the software. Certainly you were present when the computer core went online the first time.”

“Yes, we were here and observed, making sure the air filtration and cooling systems were working, for starters.” Pattie idly wondered if the woman was using more than her share of the remaining oxygen aboard the station.

“What about these air filters not scrubbing duct-work, which is the current problem?”

“What about them?”

“Did you do anything different using the Cardassian building techniques? They use charged stream-air-flow, which is not Federation standard.”

“Correct. You do know your systems, Specialist.”

“I try.” Pattie waited until the Bajoran spoke next.

“We went with the standard electrostatic grids, feeling they would be easier to maintain over the life of the station.”

“I see,” Pattie said, but something about the tone concerned her.

“But you continue to be here when problems occur.”

“Are you suggesting—”

“I am suggesting nothing, just inquiring.” Pattie wondered about the woman’s true feelings on the problem. Pattie tried to watch body language as well as listen to the tone of voice to divine Kesla’s true meaning, which was difficult under the best of circumstances—though she’d been in Starfleet for some time, she still wasn’t as adept at reading softs as she’d like—compounded by the Bajoran being in constant sales mode.

“Of course you are just doing your job,” Kesla said. “So am I. We’re extremely proud of this project and want to use its success as an example of what we’re capable of. Our future business may very well rest on the station performing as contracted…and as advertised.”

“I see,” Pattie replied, still unsure.

“I want to go see what’s happening,” Kesla said, her smile vanishing for a moment. Just as quickly, it returned and she extended a hand. Pattie took it gently with her top left pincer and shook it once, imitating the human custom. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you better,” the representative said. She turned and walked away before Pattie could offer an equally false platitude.

Once Kesla Randu moved away, Pattie tapped her combadge, turning her back toward the retreating Bajoran. “Blue to Corsi.”

“Corsi here, Pattie.”

“I just had a talk with the construction representative and her responses were less than complete, I feel.”

“You think she’s hiding something?”

“Possibly. But she has been here during the other problems as well.”

There was a pause and the Corsi replied, “Fesoan is taking your concern to heart. He’ll be checking his logs to track her movements since the station went live. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Of course. Blue out.” And she returned to waiting.

CHAPTER

6

“Ever climb through these things before?”

Sarjenka was in between the tall, silvery tanks that comprised the secondary life-support facilities, her padded boots finding purchase before moving from one area to the next. The lighting was dim and the number of tanks seemed endless. She and the Bajoran security guard had already completed a review of the primary tanks and there were still the reserve tanks to check. So far, the newly minted doctor had found nothing untoward.

Lauoc grunted in the negative and stood on the catwalk between rows of tanks, a tricorder in his left hand. She considered the compact man and his no-nonsense nature. So unlike her fellow med students at the Academy. Sarjenka loved meeting people from other cultures, learning what made each one unique, not just from a physiological standpoint but cultural and even spiritual. To her, meeting alien life-forms was never off-putting and she felt comfortable with even the non-bipedal members of the Academy. If anything, the one life-form she longed to meet was the Horta. Had they been available, a Horta would have been able to rescue her father and the others from the cave-in on Drema eight years ago without putting her life and Captain Gold’s at risk. The idea that a silicon-based life-form was even interested in dealing with carbon-based life was a fantastic one and showed the possibilities that lie between the stars.

Sarjenka went to medical school to help bring Federation medicine to her own people. She found Dr. Pulaski especially inspiring and oddly comforting in their initial meeting eight years ago. But when Gold turned up at her graduation and invited her to become part of the da Vinci crew, she thought this would continue her education. As had become her habit, she also maintained contact with several of her classmates now that they were scattered throughout the Federation. In fact, she seemed to be spending a lot of her time composing messages—far more time spent composing than listening to incoming replies. Self-examination would prove that she needed to get out of her cabin and spend time with her crew, not her departed classmates.

With a shake of her head, she refocused her attention to the tanks, making certain the seals were intact and nothing was leaking or had been tampered with. While all the diagnostic systems showed no problems, given the software problems currently afflicting the station, she agreed that a visual examination, however tedious, was in order.

“We’re done with this bank,” she said as she stepped onto the catwalk. Lauoc took a step back, without looking away from the tricorder.

“Then where do we go next, Doctor? The reserves?”

“Those are five decks down, so I believe so,” she replied. “Let me just check in.” With a tap, she contacted Dr. Lense and reported that primary and secondary tanks were fine.

“I’m going to bet you the reserve tanks are fine, too,” Lense said.

“Do you think I’m wasting my time?” Sarjenka asked, beginning to wonder to herself.

“No, we need to be thorough. They’re rebuilding the computer programming and we should have fresh air back in circulation within the hour.”

“And not a moment too soon I would think.”

“Agreed. But given the nature of these problems, after you solve atmosphere, what’s the next likely target?”

“Water. Do you really think of these as targets?”

“They’re targets of opportunity. Corsi’s convinced someone is damaging the station, so we need to get proactive and stop the next problem before it becomes one. I’ll take the water tanks.”

“Dr. Lense, are you sure that’s wise?”

“So I’ve gained a few kilos,” she replied, an edge plain in her tone. “I can still move and there’s too much to check out. Finish the reserve tanks, then check waste management. I’ll handle the water. Lense out.”

“She doesn’t sound too thrilled with you,” the Bajoran said.

Sarjenka stood for a moment, gathering her thoughts, ignoring his comment. Lense was right; two people or even more were needed. There was urgency to making certain the station could live and breathe, like any living patient, but she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the doctor putting herself at any risk. Gold brought her aboard to help, but when did helping end and smothering begin? There was still so much she needed to learn about her crewmates.

The two walked silently to the end of the catwalk and the main corridor. As the door slid open, Lauoc let out a surprising sound. She peered over his shoulder and saw Duglos Orna waiting for them. Sarjenka couldn’t tell which one had the wider smile.

“Is there a problem?” Lauoc asked.

“No, but I figured an extra pair of eyes couldn’t hurt,” the security officer said.

“True, but the doctor is the real expert,” he said.

“We can all check for tampering,” Sarjenka said, not wanting to create a fuss. She headed toward the turbolift. As they walked, she couldn’t help but hear the conversation behind her.

“What do you think of station life?”

“It’s wonderful. So much coming and going, there’s always someone to watch. There was a Ferengi trader trying to pass off Spican flame gems as some sort of talisman. Fesoan had fun quoting every violation he could think of.”

“Does it get rough and tumble?”

They entered the turbolift and without pausing in conversation, Orna hit a manual control for the desired deck. Since no one was including Sarjenka in the chatter, she remained in the lift’s rear and observed.

“When the miners arrive to sell their futures contracts, they like to blow off steam at the bar, so about every two weeks we make sure the holding cells are nice and clean for them.”

“So, fairly predictable?”

“Except for these glitches, you bet. And I don’t mind it at all. I do my shift and then go back to my cabin—”

“And paint. You still at it?”

“Sure. I still want to perfect my use of light sources with the acrylics.”

“You’ve given up oils?”

“They’re awfully messy. I more or less stopped using them after the time the magno ball team decided to celebrate on our floor. Took me weeks to get every stain out of the carpet and my dress uniforms.”

“Serves you right for inviting them in to pose while they were under the influence,” Lauoc chided.

“Ah, but the memories,” she said.

“You don’t mean…?”

“Couldn’t you hear down the hall?”

He spluttered a second. “By yourself?”

The doors opened at that moment and Orna briskly walked out, leaving her Bajoran compatriot nearly catatonic. Sarjenka, only imagining what actually happened, walked by him and gazed with a degree of admiration at Orna. She was quite accomplished—but at what, storyteller or athlete, remained to be seen.

Within moments they entered the security codes granting them access to the reserve atmosphere tank storage. Lauoc had quickly regained his composure, his expression as steely as ever, and he leveled his tricorder toward the tanks. Orna matched his move and together, with practiced ease, they surveyed the entire chamber and its fifty tanks.

“Clear,” he said.

“Clear,” she repeated a second later.

“Well, let’s get to it,” Sarjenka said, preferring to keep the banter away from the work at hand. She dared not let herself get distracted, not when there was still someone causing trouble for the station.

Corsi kept willing her left leg to stop vibrating as she sat, watching the Andorian security chief talk to the Tellarite trader. Fesoan interrogated people as he did everything else, by the book, precisely and with no variance from suggested protocol. His age, rank, and posting implied he was an accomplished officer, but she wondered how he got so far by following the book. To her, the book was a set of guidelines, the starting point for doing the job. Her own experience showed that each situation called for something the textbook never considered, and she knew full well the established Starfleet security protocols were revised every few years.

“Win lorin Ren, you have been traced to this station or its vicinity during each and every problem the station experienced. Don’t you find it odd?”

“No.”

“No?”

“First of all, how should I know when your systems go haywire? I come, do my business, and leave,” the Tellarite said in a voice that for his people was high pitched but still rumbled. “I don’t recall you sending out any announcement about the station being less than perfect.”

“We tend not to advertise such internal matters.”

Corsi was impressed, since the comment was actually an ad lib. She didn’t know Fesoan had it in him.

“I can see why, with such shoddy workmanship. Starfleet should be ashamed.”

The Andorian ignored the comment. “Is this the only sector you trade in?”

“I’m part of a network, which reaches the entire Alpha Quadrant.”

“And you trade only in spices and foodstuffs?”

“Only the finest spices and foodstuffs.”

“And when we finish inventorying your craft, everything on the manifest will be there and in compliance with trading regulations?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

Corsi felt the conversation going nowhere and her gut said the trader may be a blustering Tellarite, but not a saboteur. Actually, her intuition so far didn’t indicate anyone they’d encountered as a likely candidate. Meaning they were wasting time.

“I see your last few routes brought you close to the Cardassian sphere of influence.”

Ren sniffed at that.

“Something amuse you?”

“The notion the Cardassians can influence anything these days.”

“Don’t rule them out,” a deep, refined voice said from the doorway. Corsi shifted in her seat to see Tev walk in.

“Commander, we’re conducting an interview here,” Fesoan said.

“And doing a damn poor job of it,” Ren said.

“That’s disrespectful,” Tev said. “The security chief here no doubt has a carefully considered course of questioning designed to determine your guilt or innocence.”

Fesoan began to speak in protest but Ren shot from his chair and leaned toward his fellow Tellarite. “I’m innocent.”

“Of course.”

“Of course. So I’m here when the staff has a problem. They can’t tie me to the problem.” Corsi was watching with interest, seeing Tev engage the trader, a confrontation she had never seen him do before. This could prove enlightening, making up for the lack of progress, although the amount of hot air being blown by the two might hasten the station’s problems.

“True. It seems that all they can do is find your cargo of questionable value.”

“Alpha-currant nectar is one of the fastest-selling drinks in the quadrant,” Ren blustered, getting even closer to Tev.

“It’s swill. I tried it once,” Tev said mildly. “Now, if you imported some Gamzian wine; not enough of that if you ask me.”

“I carry only the finest items, I’ll have you know.”

“Finest can be in the eye of the beholder,” Tev continued.

“I’ve been trading in the sector for two decades so I think I know what my clientele is interested in. I wouldn’t still be a success otherwise.”

“I saw your ship. You must be a modest success.”

“And what’s wrong with my ship?”

“Oh, where shall we begin? The manufacturer discontinued that model six years ago because there was a lack of demand. It has low-rated safety features and a sluggish helm that can barely break orbit around anything other than M-class worlds.”

“And why would I want to go to other worlds?”

“Opportunity.”

“Now you sound like a Ferengi; suppose you would rather trade with them.”

“Don’t be insulting,” Tev snapped.

Corsi had seen enough and she rose from her chair and pushed past Fesoan, who seemed paralyzed by the two burly men. She inserted her much thinner form between the two and pushed them apart, trying to avoid catching a whiff of Ren’s breath.

“I think we’ve heard enough. Ren, don’t leave the station, but for now we’re done.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Fesoan said.

“There’s nothing more to learn from him at this time,” Corsi said, ready to go toe-to-toe with a man who technically outranked her. “We have other leads to follow.”

They glared at each other while the two Tellarites separated themselves. Tev, noticing neither security officer moving, escorted the trader to the door and saw him out. He then approached them and loudly cleared his throat.

Corsi turned only her head toward him.

“I just wanted you to know the captain is beaming over and we’re to have an update prepared,” Tev said, his voice betraying nothing.

“Understood,” Fesoan said after a moment and broke eye contact with Corsi. They moved uneasily out of the security office. She felt they were wasting their time and were no closer to a solution.

Pattie ran her arms along the airlock, testing the seals by feel, something she learned to do at the Academy. She thought she could learn so much more by gaining a range of tactile memories and it had proven handy on more than one occasion. Now, for example, she could tell that the firm Kesla Randu worked for was a good one. Not only was everything as it should be, but in many cases, the work exceeded the specifications. And yet, something felt “off” to her, but she couldn’t identify it, so she figured engaging the Bajoran in conversation a second time might help. In her experience, softs usually offered more information than intended or necessary and she had trained herself to listen carefully. Well, except when Tev started in with a story.

“Nice,” she said.

“Thank you,” Kesla happily replied.

“When you assign people to such a project, they have to pass a rigorous background check with Starfleet, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

“In any case, not just here, has someone managed to bypass the security check?”

Kesla Randu laughed out loud and shook her head. “Not that I know of and it certainly didn’t happen here. I was personally looking over too many shoulders during construction. Besides, many of these problems have nothing to do with construction. We don’t move isolinear chips. Hell, we don’t even install them. No, I’m certain my company had nothing to do with it.”

“I agree,” Pattie confirmed. “Still, you’re showing a lot of interest beyond what one might consider normal.”

“I told you, Pattie, we want to use this as our best example and my job is to make certain our company is not marked as having anything to do with these hiccups.”

“I believe these to be more than mere hiccups, if I understand the idiom.”

“You do,” Kesla said. “I’m making light of it, more out of relief that we’re both in agreement on my innocence than anything else. Are we done here?”

“I think so,” Pattie said. “Let’s return to the command center.”

As they walked, Pattie still couldn’t shake the notion from her mind. “Tell me, where do you obtain your materials?”

“We work closely with the Dytallix Mining Corporation for raw materials and then assign the fabrication to one of several firms. In specialized cases, we obtain materials from the Trellium mining planet.”

Pattie nodded, her antennae dipping, and she knew some more hands-on research was going to be required to see what was concerning her.

Orna and Lauoc were busily playing catch-up news regarding their classmates and from what Sarjenka could tell, everyone seemed happy with their assignments. Well, good for them, she considered while adjusting a misaligned process in the waste management system. The problem involved the sonic and EM fields being out of alignment, but at a very minor variance that the diagnostics had yet to pick up. The glitch was isolated and just routine maintenance as opposed to a sign of tampering.

As the two security officers nattered on about friends and colorful stories about their past, she concentrated to block out the noise and think about the problems. Sarjenka studied them prior to arriving and she was beginning to get the idea that there was a connection, but it was an elusive one.

There was also something Lense said earlier, but again, she couldn’t quite grasp it. She was beginning to learn she wasn’t fond of puzzles, a pastime she barely indulged in back home.

Finished, she checked the system with her tricorder and announced, “We’re done here.”

“Good,” Lauoc said. “Find anything?”

“Everything checks out.”

“Okay, so we can eat and drink in comfort.”

“For now. Something will happen again, I’m certain of it.”

CHAPTER

7

Nancy Conlon returned to the command center, cleaning her hands with a rag, pleased with herself. While she didn’t normally like being the center of attention, this time was an exception. She did good work and knew it. All eyes focused on her as she strode down each tier. As she crossed from the second to the center tier, she broke into a broad grin.

“Success?” Sonya asked.

“Everything is back to normal. Soloman and Tegor’s techs got everything in working order while I finished the hardware work. I even boosted the efficiency two points.”

“Very good work, Lieutenant. Thank you,” Kesh-Mara said, his face stretched into what passed for a smile.

“The others are coming shortly. Has the captain arrived?”

“He has,” Gold said from above and behind her. All heads swiveled toward Gold, and Nancy felt a flood of positive feelings. With Gold and her colleagues on the station, she knew this was the time they’d settle the problems once and for all.

“It’s going to get crowded here,” the station commander said. “Let’s adjourn to a more suitable space.”

Minutes later, the crowd, which had grown to include Gold, Gomez, Tev, Soloman, Lense, Sarjenka, Corsi, Lauoc, Fesoan, Tegor, the engineers Ross, Ardeen, and Zeile, and security officer Orna moved to a wardroom. Quickly, they established that the station was operating as expected—for the moment. All environmental systems were working and untampered with.

“We’re still checking the sensor logs to see if the Breen are a possibility,” Gold said.

“They won’t be,” Corsi said, earning her a quick look of disapproval from Fesoan. Conlon presumed the fussy security chief would never speak out of turn like that.

“You’re probably right,” the captain admitted. “Still, we need to be exhaustive this time.”

“Which is why I want to start going over all the maintenance logs,” Nancy said. If Corsi could get away with it, she figured she could, too, even if it meant stepping on Tegor’s toes.

“Commander Fesoan, what have you learned?” Gold asked.

Before the Andorian could reply, Nancy watched Corsi give him a hard look. She could only imagine they were not getting along at all well.

“We’re continuing to investigate the Tellarite trader,” he said.

Gold waited.

Fesoan said nothing further.

“And that’s it?”

“I have done everything else in my power,” the security chief admitted.

“And we haven’t made much headway,” Gold chided, ignoring the way the Andorian bristled. “Soloman, work with Conlon and see if you can find a pattern. Together you can cover more ground quicker.”

“Soloman, dig as deep as possible,” Nancy added. “Whatever you discover, though, keep to yourself until we speak in person. If there’s a saboteur aboard, they may be able to tap communications.”

Soloman nodded in agreement and began entering information into his tricorder. It seemed to Nancy he was already at work, tuning out the rest of the meeting. They had worked alongside each other long enough for her to recognize that this was now his mission, his purpose for the day. She wished she had such an ability to concentrate but they were, well, wired differently.

Gold tapped his combadge and asked Shabalala for an update. She noted Fesoan and Tegor leaned closer to the captain, subtly indicating how anxious they were to solve the problem that not only harmed the station but impinged on their reputations.

“The Breen have certainly been more active here than other parts of the sector,” he began. “But a spectrographic analysis shows that the Breen can be linked to being near the station only for one-third of the incidents.”

“Rules them out,” Corsi said.

Fesoan hung his head in bewilderment, his antennae drooping a bit. For a moment, Conlon felt sympathy for the man. He was responsible for the station’s safety, but the culprit continued to elude the veteran. It was wearing on him and probably had been from the beginning.

“Mr. Fesoan, if they have been around even that often, we need to be more aware,” Kesh-Mara said. “Please redeploy the sensor satellites so we’re not as unaware.”

“Of course, Commander,” he said in a soft voice.

Gold seemed comfortable conducting the meeting, probably thrilled not to be left on the bridge during a mission. Kesh-Mara certainly seemed to defer to him, which was an admission of powerlessness, never mind that Gold technically outranked him. Nancy liked the administrator, but clearly they were at a total loss.

“Who benefits?” Corsi asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Fesoan asked.

“The basic question when faced with a problem like this,” Corsi explained. “If DS10 were taken out of commission, who would benefit? Certainly not a Tellarite trader. Maybe not even the Breen.”

“Pirates?” Sonya offered.

Corsi turned to the Andorian. “Mr. Fesoan, any indication if the Orion Syndicate has been active in the area?”

Clearly feeling on firmer ground, his voice was strong in replying. “One of the reasons this station was built was to make certain the sector was safe during Cardassia’s reconstruction. With so many relief supplies and materials flowing into their solar system, it’s what you would call ripe pickings. Our patrols have apprehended two pirates in the last six weeks but no evidence of the Orions themselves.”

“Ferengi?” Tev asked with obvious distaste.

“A few traders trying to horn in on deals,” Fesoan answered. “Their wares are even worse than Ren’s.”

“And why would the Breen still be sniffing around?” Gold asked.

“They are scavengers, seeking to pick up whatever they can since they, too, were dealt a blow,” the Andorian answered.

“What about the Androssi?” Pattie asked. “We’ve had enough run-ins with them.”

Sonya shook her head. “They’re not usually this subtle. If this was an Androssi plot, they’d have shown up by now.”

“Maybe a new party?” Corsi said.

Gold asked, “Why do you say that, Corsi?”

“Because the obvious culprits are weak and unlikely.” Heads began to nod in agreement.

“Okay, I like that notion,” the captain said. “Where would they come from?”

Corsi stopped mid-word and looked at both Fesoan and Kesh-Mara. The commander tapped a few controls and a viewscreen behind Gold’s head winked to life, showing a detailed map of the Alpha Quadrant. The commander then rose and stood before the screen, and Nancy suddenly felt as if she were back at the Academy.

“Since the end of the war, the Cardassian Union is effectively made up, loosely if you ask me, of the Cardassia, Algira, Almatha, and Dorvan sectors. All were hit hard during the war. If I were looking for some new threat, I’d be looking toward Tzenkethi or the other side of the Badlands.”

“We’ve mapped and studied much of those regions,” Gold mused, studying the screen. “What if it is someone within the Union stirring up problems?”

Corsi craned her head, studying the sectors that made up the Union, and exchanged a glance with Gomez. Nancy felt lost since galactic politics rarely engaged her. “The nearest worlds to Cardassia Prime were pretty hard hit during the war and are rebuilding themselves. Could one benefit from taking out the station and then raiding the supplies so worlds like Torros or Tevak get supplies marked for C-Prime?”

“Could be, but it sounds pretty elaborate,” Gold said noncommittally.

“Something about this just isn’t adding up,” Corsi said. “Those worlds could just as easily plunder from the Beloti sector outside of our jurisdiction. Or directly steal from Cardassia rather than come anywhere near DS10.”

“I agree,” Gold said. “We can’t figure out who benefits from this.”

Nancy looked around the table and saw the bewildered expressions on most of the faces, including Sarjenka. Their newest crew member seemed in over her head with all the politics and no patients, which, after all, was her specialty. Nancy’s heart went out to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise from her side.

“Soloman?”

“Sorry, Captain,” the Bynar said. “It’s just that I have found that some of these maintenance logs have been tampered with.” All heads snapped up, as if they were jolted by a current. He seemed not to notice the intensity of the collective gaze. Instead, he tapped some more buttons and then added, “I need to look further, but something is definitely amiss.”

“So much for the galaxy,” Corsi muttered.

“It’s an internal problem,” Fesoan said in disbelief.

“Give me a moment,” Soloman said, not taking his eyes from the padd. “He’s sophisticated, I’ll give him that.”

“Definitely an internal matter,” Corsi agreed.

Soloman made an affirmative sound, intent on the information flowing before his eyes.

Tev said, “Fesoan, I would recommend the trader be released to go about his business. He knows about wine and cheese—and damned little about that—not terabytes or internal records.”

The security chief remained silent at first, jaw muscles working, but finally nodded. “And where do you propose we look next?” he asked.

“You’ve checked everyone who’s been in and out of the station, right?”

“Of course,” he replied, now sounding insulted.

“You’ve of course ruled out internal personnel,” Corsi said, probably just to give her a chance to think.

“What do you mean? Starfleet personnel?”

Corsi’s head shifted in his direction and she fought to keep her jaw from dropping. “Yes, I mean Starfleet personnel! Are you suggesting that each and every officer who’s been on this station may be perfect? No mentally altered or mind-controlled crew? Do you mean you’ve forgotten about all the sabotage that’s been performed on starships and starbases, not to mention the ones who’ve just lost it due to stress? Skip that course at the Academy? Of course you look at the personnel, if only to say you’ve ruled them out.”

While Nancy was entertained by Corsi in her full “Core Breach” mode, she also knew the security chief was overstepping protocol. Corsi seemed to reach the same conclusion and stopped her harangue for two reasons.

Corsi took a breath and then held it, letting someone else talk. Fortunately, it was her captain.

“Mr. Fesoan, while Commander Corsi could have phrased things differently, her point is well taken. By not looking at Starfleet personnel, a large percentage of the potential suspect pool has remained a variable.”

“Captain, my training for this station indicates I look at the largest body of variables first.”

“Which you have done and have now ruled out.”

“Looking at it your way, then we’re speculating that one of our own has been behind these…mishaps.”

“Quite possibly,” Gold admitted softly. “Until they are examined and ruled out.”

Fesoan cocked an eyebrow in Gold’s direction. “What happens when we rule out Starfleet staff?”

“We’re back at square one and start all over again,” he said glumly.

CHAPTER

8

Pattie studied the complete Technology Assessment Directorate’s request for the construction of Deep Space 10. Even the extract took her an hour to wade through, but she quickly understood what was required for this region of space. She then called up the bidding that was done for the assignment and chuckled lightly to herself to see how many non-aligned governments wanted in on the project, attempting to profit after the Dominion War ended. She could only imagine if Starfleet ever granted a construction contract to the Ferengi, who were notorious for inflating their work change orders.

Instead, she focused on Kesla Randu’s firm and their bid. She made careful note of the materials Starfleet asked for and then checked them against what the firm’s records indicated were supplied. Given Randu’s boast of exceeding requests, she made careful note of everything that was in variance with the specs. The list was beginning to get lengthy and she stopped to consider how those changes might have affected the station overall.

She then started checking on the time frame requested by Starfleet and the actual timeline as prepared by Kesla during the construction. In every case, they met their deadlines or exceeded them, which she knew earned them a bonus. Carefully, she then checked for injuries to the workers in case the haste made them less than cautious. While pleased the injuries were within expected parameters for a project of this scope, she was also disappointed not to find something that would help her solve the station’s problem. Pattie had never been a part of a massive construction project so lacked the experience to see something subtle. But her instincts were rarely wrong, so she wanted to keep checking every aspect of the construction, without the chatty Bajoran interrupting.

Nancy knew in her heart that the problem was not mechanical. Figuring out which person was responsible, though, was the issue. She and Tegor sat at a table, each nursing a steaming cup, padds and station schematics strewn in every direction. They’d been at the table for more than an hour and she didn’t feel they were any closer to an answer.

“It’s all so random,” Tegor said. “And the timing doesn’t fit any pattern. Doesn’t expose the station during a critical juncture. Doesn’t make us vulnerable to an attacking fleet—”

“Mostly because there’s no attacking fleet nearby,” Nancy said, finishing the sentence. “The pirates are bold but not that bold, and usually not that smart. Many of these problems are sophisticated in that they’re minor glitches causing maximum stress. Corsi’s right, it has to be someone on the station staff.”

Tegor made an angry noise at the reminder and shuffled a padd out from the middle of a stack and thumbed it to life, studying something on the screen. He then pulled another and the intensity in his eyes caught Nancy’s attention. She wasn’t sure which padds he was studying, but something might be suggesting itself and as a fellow engineer, she knew to wait it out. Instead, she sipped at her coffee.

The minutes passed peacefully until Tegor finished his examination. He put the final padd down, traced a finger along the station schematic spread before them, and then caught her attention. Nancy had been letting her mind wander, and was actually thinking about her new cabinmate and how they were going to get along long-term. Sarjenka was a bit prickly, mostly because of the grief she was receiving from Lense but also from being inserted into a small, tight-knit crew. Sarj needed to lighten up; maybe it was her roommate who needed to show her the way.

She shook off the thought and met Tegor’s eyes. “Got something?”

“We know the errors are random but there might be a pattern to the errors themselves since no system has been affected twice.”

“Process of elimination, try and guess where the next one might occur,” she said quickly, earning a tight smile of approval. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Nothing but the best from the chief engineer,” he replied, finally easing up.

The two refilled their cups and then started looking over the schematics, using rainbow-hued salt and pepper shakers, stolen from nearby tables, to start marking off sections that had already been affected. As they placed markers, Nancy studied them and noticed something to add to the theories.

“Tegor, the level of complexity has been rising with each incident. The recent problem certainly proved to be the nastiest. How do you improve on compromising the atmosphere?”

“Good question,” he said and stood, stretched, never taking his eyes off the charts. “Food supplies, airlocks, transporters, they’re all possibilities.”

“Good ones, too, look,” Nancy said, stabbing a finger on the chart, noting the transporter rooms were in the unaffected areas.

“The frequency has also moved up but not in any way that appears obvious,” Nancy noted. “Picking the next place will be easier than the next ‘when.’ Now, this is curious…”

Tegor moved around the table to look at the chart and then at the padd in Nancy’s hand.

“Each of the incidents, in fact, all of them, happened right around shift changes—before, during, or just after,” Nancy said. “Timed to disrupt everything and everyone.”

“Makes sense for a saboteur,” Tegor said.

“Something security hasn’t shared,” Nancy added.

“Or noticed themselves,” Tegor said. “Fesoan is so by-the-book I wonder if he has any intuition.”

Nancy grinned at him. “I can think of at least one.”

“Do tell,” Tegor coaxed.

“Maybe when this is over,” she said, pushing the memory back in her mind. “Let’s share this with Kesh-Mara and see how he wants to proceed. Meantime, let’s see if we can marshal some troops to check out the likely stations.”

The two gathered their padds, folded the schematic back into its protective case, and then placed their mugs in the recycler. Conlon was feeling like they had made some progress even if they still didn’t know when the saboteur would strike next or where the event was to occur, but she was at least not idle. She fully understood why Sonya enjoyed her S.C.E. duties so much.

On the walk back to the command center, they chitchatted and she was growing fonder of Tegor, who seemed to enjoy his work as much as she did. He was proud of the station and was pained by each glitch, taking each incident personally. She wanted to help, knowing it’d eat her alive if something similar happened to the da Vinci.

Kesh-Mara gestured in greeting as they entered the center and Nancy saw that Sonya and Tev were over to one side, checking some terminal. There was a quiet hum to the center, people doing their jobs, trusting that others were doing their own work. As it should be, she noted. When Sonya spotted the engineers, she nodded to Tev and smiled at her. The smile filled her with confidence, knowing that her friend trusted her to help. She was grateful to serve on this ship and to have earned the trust of both the captain and his first officer—enough to have her promoted to chief engineer, something she hadn’t expected at this stage in her career. As a result, she had made certain to be worthy of that trust.

“Something?” Sonya asked.

“Something,” Conlon replied. She quickly outlined their theory that a different portion of the station was likely to be hit next as well as it occurring during a shift change. When she mentioned that fact, Sonya looked at the station commander, and Kesh-Mara in turn glanced over at the vacant security station. Conlon had been informed that Fesoan and Corsi were working in the security office, which made sense to her.

“So, what do you want to do?” Gomez asked.

“I had a thought,” Conlon began.

“We need a break,” Lense said.

Sarjenka didn’t necessarily agree and suspected Lense was feeling more tired than she let on and didn’t want to admit it. The Dreman nodded once and closed the terminal she had been using. Without a word, the women walked from the infirmary to the mess. The silence was not a comfortable one, and Sarjenka once more filled her thoughts with wondering if she had been hasty in accepting Gold’s offer. Things would be different if Lense made any effort to accept her being present or took her comments without some snappish rejoinder. She recalled what Conlon had told her about shipboard life, the need to meet people halfway sometimes.

“Doctor,” Sarjenka began, forcing herself to remain pleasant, “when we return to the ship, can you take the time to show me where you want equipment kept?”

“Of course, all you have to do is ask,” Lense said without warmth.

And they kept walking.

In the mess room, they saw Corsi and Lauoc finishing a meal. The Bajoran waved to the doctors and Sarjenka nodded in return. Each woman stopped at the food slots and entered her order. Sure enough, they got entirely different things. Lense had a heaping plate of steaming vegetables while Sarjenka made do with an Antarean glow fish. If there was one thing she liked about serving in Starfleet, it was the ability to sample cuisines from other worlds.

As they joined Corsi and Lauoc at their table, the security personnel asked if they had learned anything new. Sarjenka shook her head while Lense ate her food, ignoring the question.

“I can’t believe their security chief hadn’t thought to check Starfleet personnel,” Lauoc muttered. From what Sarjenka recalled of the Bajorans, they had, like the Dremans, recently ended a period of planetary occupation that saw members of their world fight for freedom and resent those who worked with the overseers. She’d read that Bajorans treated Cardassian collaborators with even more disdain than Dremans treated Exile collaborators. Looking internally would come naturally to Lauoc.

“Find anything?” Lense asked, finally speaking. She had already cleared a good portion of her plate.

“Nothing obvious,” Corsi admitted. “Conlon found the pattern that each incident occurred near a shift change.”

“Sounds like a chance to improve the chaos,” Lense offered.

“Or a chance to hide in the crowd,” Sarjenka added, earning her a look from the other doctor.

“Okay, let’s walk through the scenario,” Corsi said, clearly seeking a fresh audience. Sarjenka wasn’t sure what to make of this woman yet but appreciated her dogged work ethic. “Everyone is changing shift, walking to and from their posts, the alarm rings, and people scramble. The first incident was simple, some blown EPS conduits. The engineers step in and fix it. No big deal, nothing odd. Now, the second incident involved programming errors including misaligned isolinear chips.”

“Programming errors could have been done off-station,” Lense said.

“But the chips mean someone stepped in and fixed it, hiding their presence,” Sarjenka said.

“And they’re good enough to mask their presence from the security logs,” Corsi said, thumbing through screens of names on a padd. “So we’re looking for someone pretty smart and well trained. The third incident was the plasma manifolds. They don’t mis-align themselves. EPS conduits, computer glitches, plasma manifolds…”

“Sounds like an engineer,” Lauoc said.

“No engineer has a bad service record,” Corsi said. “We just checked everyone who’s been here since the station opened and the first problem occurred. There are more than two hundred crew members who are suspects.”

“That’s a lot of people to interview,” Lense said. “How many have the technical know-how?”

“And if they’re that clever, they may not give something away when the security chief talks to them,” Sarjenka said.

“Right,” Corsi agreed. “Things increase in complexity. As a result, from the two hundred, we can cut out the doctors, technicians, most of security, and so on. Brings us down to some sixty-five engineers and related personnel.”

“Still a lot of people to talk to,” Lense said. Sarjenka noted the plate was empty but the doctor seemed still hungry or fidgety as she was absently picking at the vegetables on Sarjenka’s own unfinished plate.

“No kidding,” Corsi grumbled. “It’s someone living here; I’m certain of it.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve pretty much ruled out the people who come and go on a regular basis.”

“And why not someone who is good at staying off the sensor grid?” Sarjenka asked.

Corsi paused and looked quizzically at the Dreman. Sarjenka swallowed under the gaze and forged ahead.

“We know there have been shapeshifters, spies, and others who are quite talented at not being detected. A station this big is filled with hiding spots. It could be the work of someone who has been living here, but is not Starfleet, and is breaking the station down on purpose.”

Frowning, Corsi asked, “Who benefits?”

“What?” Lense replied.

“I’ve been wrestling with this,” Corsi said to Lense, who started looking at the padd Corsi had laid down. Sarjenka glanced at her own plate to note that not only the vegetables but most of her fish had vanished. “Gomez, Tev, Kesh-Mara, and others have all been through this. Who gets an advantage from DS10 being crippled? Who would get an advantage big enough to invest eight months or more in keeping the station in less than perfect condition?”

There was silence as her words settled in everyone’s minds. Sarjenka realized just how much there was to serving in Starfleet, how many disciplines and points of view had to be considered. While it was one thing to learn that in class or in a simulation, this was something else entirely. And Corsi was listening to her, so she had to pick her words carefully. After all, she had just seen what happens when you annoy her, thinking of the way even a veteran like Fesoan cringed a bit under her wrath.

“Someone’s benefiting,” Lense said. “Or paying off a debt.”

“Really,” Lauoc said before Corsi could react.

“Sure. Some people will sell out their own families rather than lose their lives to the Orions or even pissed-off Nausicaans.

“You’ve got this list of engineers,” Lense continued. “The notations next to each name seem pretty uniform. Clean background checks before the posting. No serious infractions, no major rewards. Except one, this guy, Ajit Ross. Look at how many commendations he’s received over the last six months.”

“A logical outcome from the engineers fixing all the problems,” Corsi said, taking the padd from the doctor.

“But why does he have so many more?”

“He’s really good?” Lauoc suggested.

Corsi didn’t reply and looked intently at the padd and its reports. The silence built among the four and Sarjenka thought through what had been discussed and what Lense had observed. Something started to take shape in her mind but she didn’t want to mislead Corsi or be proven wrong in front of Lense. She had to be certain.

“Doctor, may I see the padd?” Sarjenka asked as mildly as possible.

Lense looked up, then back at the padd, thumbed a control, and then casually passed it over. Sarjenka, feeling more comfortable for the moment, quickly checked Ross’s record and then compared it with several others. She remained uncertain if she was right and therefore maybe she should keep the notion to herself until there was more information.

Then again, the exchange of ideas had been fairly free without criticism so far, so what could be the worst that happened?

Her mind ran through the worst-case scenarios she could imagine and decided to speak up anyway. “I have a thought,” she began and then continued when all eyes were on her. As she finished, Corsi nodded thoughtfully, Lauoc seemed confused, and Lense didn’t seem convinced.

“I disagree,” she finally said.

Sarjenka fell silent. She took a deep breath and decided now was a good time to see how long she could hold it.

“But why?” Corsi asked.

“Won’t know until we ask, right?” Lauoc said.

“Right,” Corsi agreed. Looking directly at Sarjenka with a serious expression, she continued. “This is worth taking to the captain for consideration. And you’re going to do the explaining.”

As Pattie, tired and a little achy, entered the command center, she saw Gold and Kesh-Mara deep in conversation with Commanders Gomez and Tev, Doctors Lense and Sarjenka, Lieutenant Conlon, Commander Corsi, and the station’s security chief, Fesoan. They looked expectantly over at the structural specialist, clearly seeking a solution to the station’s woes. She shook her head in the negative and then stood silently among the group.

“Did you find anything, Blue?” Gold asked.

“The firm that built the station has a sound reputation, as does Kesla Randu. She possesses no criminal record.”

Kesh-Mara and Gold both looked pleased with the news, although not ecstatically so.

“However, in many instances, they varied from what Starfleet’s specs called for. In several of these cases, they exceeded the specs, such as thicker hull materials. All told, though, the station is now heavier than anticipated, which actually affects some of the system settings such as air circulation and the artificial gravity. Without having these upgrades pointed out, the systems team didn’t know to make the adjustments. That was one of the reasons behind the atmospheric problem being so severe.”

“I had no idea,” Kesh-Mara said, sounding shaken.

“I will have a few words for that woman,” Tegor thundered. “More than a few, I think!”

“Just remember,” Kesh-Mara cautioned, “it sounds like these were well-intentioned.”

“Still! How can I maintain a station when I don’t even know its exact specifications? Oh, we’re going to have words. Fesoan, I want her found and in my office. Now would be good.”

Fesoan looked at Tegor, then glanced over at Kesh-Mara, who nodded once. The Andorian returned the nod and then broke apart from the group to issue the order. As he did, Pattie turned to Captain Gold and asked for an update.

“Sarjenka has an interesting theory that is worth further investigating.”

“Oh?” Now Pattie turned her attention to the Dreman, only to catch a disapproving look from Lense. She focused her attention on the doctor who was all too ready to state her objections.

“It’s a total stretch given what we know of the situation,” Lense said, sounding as if she was repeating a point. Given the lack of reaction from the others, she took that as a yes.

“Which is why I want Tegor to do some further researching before he speaks with anyone,” Kesh-Mara said in his most authoritative voice.

“Of course, sir,” Tegor replied and stepped away from the group.

Tev stepped forward and spoke. “I wish to accompany Tegor, see if I can lend a hand.”

Ah, the Nasat concluded. He’d had little to do and while he may have been a genius with equipment, he clearly didn’t understand people all that well. Now he had a chance to prove valuable and he seized it despite Conlon having been Tegor’s constant companion to date.

Conlon then became the focal point of the conversation. “With Tegor busy, may I have permission to follow our hunch?”

“I don’t see why not,” Gold said, looking at Kesh-Mara for confirmation. The commander nodded his assent and the engineer was on her way with Gomez. Pattie looked quizzically at Gold, who returned the look with a small smile.

“Conlon and Tegor have an idea and they think they know where the next problem will occur.”

Her antennae stirred at the news and Pattie looked at the remaining faces for information. She nodded in understanding as Gold and then Corsi began filling in the details. Finally, it appeared to her that the problem would be solved before any lives were lost.

Tegor had called up his duty rosters and began cross-referencing them in a hurry. Tev stood behind him, watching with his arms crossed over his barrel chest. He remained silent, trying to practice everything Gold and Gomez had told him about dealing with others. No doubt he could have more quickly done the cross-referencing using a subroutine he had developed years before, but chose not to offer it. After all, he was in a fellow officer’s domain and he had to respect the boundaries. Or so Gomez kept telling him.

But he was tempted to speak.

Tegor didn’t talk to him as his stubby fingers flew across the controls, trying to hurry the search for information. After a few silent minutes that appeared to test his wary patience, Tev saw Tegor slow down and finally turn toward him.

“They’re right. Only one engineer was there for each and every repair. And he seemed to know exactly how to fix things, faster than the others. Some of these people have twice his experience, too.”

“But why?”

“He’s human, who knows? They seem to exhibit the oddest behavior on occasion. I’ll confess I’ve never fully understood what drives them.”

“In my experience, the ones in Starfleet serve because they truly believe in the ideals the Federation was founded on. Some do it with more zeal than others but yes, the pressure to excel sometimes exacts tolls.”

“Let’s confirm this with Kesh-Mara and move forward. I want this ended.” Tegor nodded at his own words and returned to the roster profile displayed on the screen before them. The smiling face would never tip off anyone that he was a saboteur.

CHAPTER

9

“Damn,” Nancy muttered as she left the transporter pad. With an engineering tricorder in hand, she had finished scanning the platform and then the chamber itself.

“Expected it to be here, right?” Sonya asked.

“If I were a nut job, I’d have picked this next.”

“I wouldn’t,” Sonya replied.

“Why not?”

“Transporters are too sensitive. Too many things to calibrate and honestly, everything to date shows that the repairs haven’t been too complex. Time consuming, yes, but any experienced engineer could have fixed these glitches.”

“Good point. Well, this is the last transporter room; maybe we should have had this conversation six rooms ago.”

Sonya shook her head, her black hair moving freely about her face. “We’re not taking any chances. I want to eliminate every possibility before things get worse or something else goes wrong. We did it by the book and we got it right.”

“Okay, if we ratchet down a level of complexity, then the replicators would be next.”

“And not the gravity generators?”

“Too logical a step after the atmospheric units. Nothing has been that predictably linear.”

“Agreed, but which aspect of the system?”

“He left the atmospheric tanks alone, but if this increases in complexity, then it would be the nutrient tanks.”

“There are fourteen such tanks on the station,” Sonya said, consulting her tricorder.

Nancy sighed.

“And yes, we’re going to check each one before we start on the fluid tanks.” Sonya closed her tricorder and headed to the exit. The two women walked a bit toward the nearest turbolift.

“This is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

“Since we’re in agreement this needs visual inspection, the answer is yes.”

“Swell.”

“Did you have plans?”

“Who me? I never have plans.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Sonya said. “Was wondering about that.”

“About what? My lack of a social life?”

“It’s a small ship; we notice these things.”

“I would imagine you do. Just been busy adjusting to being the lead engineer and being in command of the crew.”

“You’ve been in charge for something like nine months, and you’re still getting adjusted? Now that’s cause for concern—both as your first officer and as your friend.”

Nancy shook her head in disagreement, feeling a mix of discomfort and frustration. Sonya was bringing things up that she’d rather not discuss, but clearly the first officer was looking after the crew and she couldn’t blame her. They were friends, as she said, but enough for her to open up with? After the changes to the ship since Galvan VI and the experiences they’d shared, Sonya was indeed among her closer friends. Not that she had a lot, now that she thought about it. “It’s not that, Sonya. I really just need to figure out how to have a social life with people I’m going to command in the morning.”

“Not every single person aboard works for engineering.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Nancy said. “I guess I don’t like being the subject of gossip. Look at the buzz about Corsi and Fabian before they went public.”

Sonya smiled at that, having been one of the gossipers.

“Not everyone on the ship is willing to pair up, nor is everyone to my taste. I’m not as open-minded as Dantas.”

“Or as desperate,” Sonya said with a laugh. “There must be someone on the ship…” And then she gave Nancy a wicked grin.

“If you try and fix me up with Tev, I’ll leave you in a nutrient tank.”

Sonya chuckled at that and fell silent. They arrived at the main storage room for the primary nutrient tanks. Being a visitor to the station, she needed to contact Fesoan to remotely grant her and Nancy access to the facility. She had to submit to a biometric scan, followed by a series of locks clicking open, and then the doors slid apart, finally granting them access. The cavernous room held eight of the fourteen tanks, each measuring eight by thirteen meters and connected by conduits to the replicator network. Each tank and each conduit connection had maintenance screens, all displaying a comforting green. A low hum gave the room a semblance of life as the electrohydraulic conduits fed raw fiber and nutrients to the replicator ports scattered around the station. The room was, as expected, spotless and pristine; even the conduits shined in the low light.

Waving her tricorder at the first tank, Gomez saw all the telltales match the green of the monitors. Still, a visual inspection was in order and she slowly walked around the tank while Conlon climbed a ladder to a catwalk that ringed the upper portion of the chamber. With her own tricorder, she scanned the top of the same tank and then lowered it and did a visual review. This was going to take time, time she hoped they had. She had rarely spent time with the consumables storage and distribution systems beyond some Academy work and used a guide from the tricorder to remind herself which systems would be most vulnerable. Unlike the atmospheric tanks, there was more space between the tanks that would make the inspection easier; however, there were more conduits, which meant more places for things to go wrong.

While part of her mind focused on the task at hand, another part started drifting off after the second tank passed muster. She rethought what they had seen and learned about the station and while impressed, Nancy knew she preferred having an engine room and single ship to deal with. And despite what she said to Sonya, she was fairly comfortable with her crew and her new role as chief engineer. In fact, she had that part down pat. It was the other side, living and dealing with friends who were now subordinates, that froze her. People would stop chattering when she entered the mess or break apart when she encountered a few congregating during a lull during duty shifts. She felt awkward about it and really didn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing it with Sonya, who would be the very person to understand. After all, she had supervised a former lover. On the other hand, Sonya had had nine months to grieve for Duffy and had moved on with her life. What was freezing Nancy in place?

And then Nancy herself froze.

Tucked beneath the monitor to the conduit reaching halfway down tank number five was something that didn’t look right. It was dull gray so not easily seen, but it did interfere with the clean silhouette presented by the other tanks. She aimed her tricorder at it and began taking readings while breathing cautiously through her nose. Her screen wavered and then began showing the energy signature, a low-level sonic disruptor of sorts. She read a magnetic sign as well, probably used to affix the device to the conduit.

“Sonya,” she said in a loud whisper, amazed at how quickly she shifted into a cautious mode as if her regular voice would suddenly trigger the device.

“What?” The first officer stepped around the tank and looked up to meet Nancy’s eyes, and then saw the tricorder aimed at the conduit. She followed the path and saw for herself the device.

Quickly, she tapped her combadge and summoned Fesoan and Corsi. Then she took her own readings.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, Nancy, but it doesn’t belong here, does it?”

“Wouldn’t think so. It’s reading sonic; probably meant to disrupt the conduit, which would…well, disrupt the one tank. It’d automatically shut down and call for maintenance.”

“And one tank is not an escalation over the atmospheric system.”

“So it’s not the only device.”

“Right.”

“Now that we know what to look for, let’s do a full scan for the same signature.” The women fell silent, each adjusting their equipment and then, matching their speed, they began walking farther into the chamber, scanning in an arc from left to right in unison.

Nancy stifled a shiver of fear and concentrated on the readouts. There! She found a second, then a third. All told, the back four tanks had the same device in place. More than enough to shut down the primary facility shifting resources to tap the six auxiliary tanks that were housed throughout the station for safekeeping.

“We need someone to check those six and make certain the backups weren’t targeted,” Sonya said when they completed their sweep.

“Doesn’t fit the pattern. Each system had backups and the backups were never in danger.”

“True, but you’re the one who keeps reminding me the problem has been escalating. Tell you what; we’ll have Tev check them for us.”

“Now you’re just being wicked,” Nancy said with a smirk.

“He’s the one complaining about not being busy enough. He can make sure we didn’t miss anything, letting him feel like he’s done his job of keeping an eye on me,” Sonya said.

“He really can be a prig, can’t he?”

“Yeah, but a really smart and useful prig,” Sonya admitted. “Just don’t go repeating that.”

Nancy nodded in agreement and then pocketed her tricorder and climbed down to join her colleague on the deck. As she reached Sonya, the doors parted and Fesoan and Corsi, backed by Lauoc and Orna, arrived, phasers out and ready. Fesoan scanned the chamber quickly, found the women, and headed over. He seemed alert and ready to spring into action. She hated to disappoint him.

“No one’s here, but we have found something,” Sonya began. With a gesture, she beckoned the team to follow her. Quickly, she showed them the cylinders and explained what she thought they would do.

“Aren’t you going to take them down?” Fesoan asked.

“No,” Sonya said, receiving surprised looks from the security officers. “I have an idea and want your help.”

Fesoan’s antennae twitched a bit and he looked at her intently.

The door to the Consumables Storage master control room slid open and Sarjenka could see a figure enter. She didn’t like hiding, didn’t like being in the dark, not after those horrible experiences in her youth. Still, she remained still and could barely see the figure, a man, enter.

His presence activated the lighting and it went from near dark to daylight intensity as he settled in at the main chair and flipped on the diagnostics. His right hand was fidgeting with something, but she couldn’t see what it was, just the movement. The screens flashed from tank to tank until all eight showed they were in nominal condition. He ran his left hand through his hair and sat back, clearly perplexed.

It was at that moment that Kesh-Mara and Fesoan stepped from around a corner and confronted Ajit Ross at the controls. Ross, she saw, was maybe thirty years old and had a full head of jet-black hair and long sideburns. He was dressed in his duty uniform even though she knew he was off shift. The body was whippet lean, making him look taller than he probably was. There was a look of surprise, then defeat, in his eyes and his jaw slackened a bit but he said nothing.

“Why?” was all Kesh-Mara managed to say. She suspected he was controlling rage and frustration, but again, his features were hard to read.

Ross stood quietly.

“What was it you said caused this?” Kesh-Mara asked Sarjenka. She looked over her shoulder at Gold and Lense, who had been around the same corner as the station staff. Lense nodded, a look of pride in her eye, a look that confused Sarjenka.

“It’s called Munchausen syndrome, somewhat unique among humans,” she began. “The term is named after a figure from Earth’s past, someone who told larger-than-life stories, none of which were true. The disorder causes people to exaggerate behavioral problems or even fabricate them to call attention to themselves.

“I believe, in this case, Lieutenant Ross caused the station problems so he would receive attention by being the one to correct them. His service record certainly bears that out given the number of commendations received since the problems began. Prior to that, the record was fairly ordinary.”

“Ordinary,” Ross repeated and all eyes turned to him.

They waited and the silence seemed to goad him into continuing.

“Ordinary,” he repeated once more and then started talking, his voice a pleasant baritone filled with a growing amount of pain. “Imagine growing up a Ross, nephew to William Ross, hero of the Dominion War! Imagine the expectations heaped on the beloved nephew, the one who was like a son to Uncle Bill.

“I liked to tinker with things so I was pushed to join Starfleet, of course, and be one of the engineers to keep Uncle Bill’s fleet intact. My parents thought I’d be the next Daystrom; my uncle expected me to be the next Montgomery Scott. But you know what? I liked to tinker with things; I was pretty good, but not exceptional. I couldn’t fabricate something to rival a cold start to the warp engines. I was good, but I was ordinary and not a star. Not like Uncle Bill, who directed the fleet and kept us safe from the Dominion. I served my time, I fixed ships, and I did what I could. But any time I had leave and returned home, I saw the look in their eyes. They were proud of me but they expected a returning hero. And where was Uncle Bill? Out saving us! He never was in contact, as if I wasn’t special enough anymore for his attention.”

Spent, he paused and seemed to shut down. Lense and Sarjenka both took a step forward and a gesture from Fesoan stopped them. Everyone waited to see if there would be more.

When there wasn’t, he spoke next.

“Why the station? Why now?”

Ross looked at him and then at the other expectant faces around the room. Sarjenka saw the confusion in his eyes when he couldn’t register Gold or Lense or even her. He focused, instead, on Fesoan, not willing to look his commanding officer in the eye.

“I volunteered for this post because it was far from Earth and the offices of the great admiral. I could be my own man, and be recognized for the skills I do possess. I have great engineering skills!”

“You do, Lieutenant,” Kesh-Mara said sadly. “You do.”

“Will you make sure my family knows that?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve gotten so much better at fixing things these last few months, haven’t I?”

“The work has been exemplary,” the commander said.

He nodded toward Fesoan, who took Ross into custody. The rest stood awkwardly silent, uncertain of what to say to one another.

Finally, Gomez broke the moment by saying, “He is a good engineer. Took a lot of talent to stay hidden for so long. In fact, it took a doctor to find him, not an engineer.” With that, all eyes turned to Sarjenka, who didn’t move.

Gold asked, “Then what happened with the atmospheric units?”

“That, Captain, shows his limits as an engineer,” Conlon explained. “He got in over his head, complicated by the contractors, and it’s a good thing we were close enough to save the station.”

“Well, you saved the station,” Lense agreed. “Now we have to save the man.”

Nancy threw herself on the bunk, ready for a long nap. Things were back to normal and that was fine by her. Sure, she’d have liked some more time to poke around the station but now that the problem had been resolved, all she felt was tired.

She had yet to drift off when the doors opened and her roommate walked in. Shucking off her duty jacket, Sarjenka let it fall haphazardly on the chair and then looked in the mirror.

“I look terrible,” she muttered.

“We’re all tired, Sarj,” Nancy said sleepily.

“Are the missions always like this?”

Sarjenka sat at the edge of her bunk, looking across the narrow space to where Nancy rose off her pillow. The engineer knew sleep wasn’t coming until she once more reassured the Dreman. Maybe, she thought, if she could get her acclimated, then she could work on her housekeeping skills.

“Yup, the missions are always like this,” Nancy said. “Filled with the unexpected. Sometimes they go as planned but even so, someone comes up with something the rest of us didn’t expect. The S.C.E. team usually has to be nimble while the rest of us stay aboard and stay out of the way.”

“You don’t get off the ship much, then,” Sarjenka asked.

“No, not really. That’s usually fine, but I’ll tell you, that station is sweet. I’d love time to poke around without worrying about something blowing up.”

Sarjenka nodded in agreement.

“Look, Sarj, this is a process. It’s not something they really teach in the Academy, but everyone settles in to their ship’s routine. Some take to it immediately, like Poynter did when she got here. Others, like you I guess, need more time. There’re good people out there who want you to succeed.”

“Even Dr. Lense?”

“Okay, she has issues, but she’s always had issues. I’m certain she doesn’t want you to entirely fail. Just not outperform her is my guess. She still needs to feel valued, kinda like Ross.”

“Well, she’s a more gifted doctor than he was an engineer,” Sarjenka noted.

“True. Look, next time you’re free, go sit in the mess. Chat some people up. Bart Faulwell is terrific at making people feel welcome. He did it for Tev, and no one liked him at first.”

“Do they like him better now?”

“Some. He’s also learned how to get along, which helps. If he can do it, you can.”

Sarjenka sat there, lost in thought as Nancy finally drifted off to a much needed rest.

A few hours later, Sarjenka entered sickbay and found Lense seated at her desk, one hand absently rubbing her abdomen. She felt uncomfortable asking about such a private matter so avoided bringing it up. Instead, she poked her head into the examining room and saw no one around.

“Sarjenka,” Lense said, and to the Dreman, her voice sounded tentative, not something she was used to.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“The work you did on the station…” She trailed off, uncertain of the words to come and Sarjenka knew to remain silent and wait her out. She didn’t dare try and figure out if she was going to be praised for figuring things out or condemned for figuring things out ahead of Lense.

“The work you did…it was good work. You saw things about the pattern of behavior before the rest of us. You showed a better understanding of the human psyche than I did.”

“Even Tegor, their chief engineer, didn’t see anything off about his own subordinate,” she put in to be helpful.

“Because he’s trained to see parts, not people, damn it!” The explosive words caught Sarjenka by surprise but she decided to hold her ground, not flinch under the forthcoming onslaught. “I’m trained to see people and I missed it. How can I be effective at my job when I miss the obvious?”

“But it wasn’t so obvious—” Sarjenka began but was cut off.

“Not to Tegor or Kesh-Mara, but it should have been to me. How can Captain Gold look to me as his CMO when I miss what was clearly a medical problem? This case proved the wisdom of bringing you aboard and makes me seem an ineffective bundle of hormones.”

Sarjenka wanted to offer her calming words, but the look in Lense’s eyes warned her off. She suspected the very hormones she mentioned were bringing on the cry of anguish so concluded it was best to let the words blow by her. After waiting another tense moment or two, Lense was clearly done talking and was brooding. The da Vinci’s newest crewmember decided it was time to get to the lab and return to her pet research project.

But, as she walked out of the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that while she may get accepted by the crew if Conlon was right, she may never be accepted by her immediate superior.

“We’re about done here, sir,” Gomez told Gold when he entered the bridge.

“Are we now?”

“Station personnel have finished combing the replicator systems and no more sabotage has been detected. Ross is in custody and undergoing an extensive psychoanalytic evaluation. There’s nothing left to keep us.”

Gold nodded, took his command chair, and looked around the bridge. Everyone was where they should be and things felt as they should be. To him, this was good. He knew his crew, and he knew that while things weren’t perfect, they were not remotely close to getting out of hand as he just witnessed on the massive station.

“Incoming hail from Commander Kesh-Mara,” Shabalala said, interrupting his rumination. And it was getting to be a good one, too, he mused.

“On screen.”

Kesh-Mara, flanked by Fesoan and Tegor, was in the command station, their postures fairly relaxed. Good, Gold concluded, this wasn’t a new problem.

“I wanted to personally clear the da Vinci for undocking,” the commander said. “But I was hoping to offer your crew a day’s shore leave on the station. While many of your team crawled around the inner workings, none of you got to see what else we are capable of.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Gold said. “We will be expected to our next assignment shortly so I don’t know if that’s possible.” He was about to say more when he caught a gesture from Corsi, who had entered the bridge during the exchange. Curious, he asked the station commander to wait a moment and had the communication go to mute.

“What’s up, Corsi?”

“Sir, I’m not a doctor, but I do know that a day’s rest would be useful for one and all. I know my own team could use the break and I’d rather do it here and now so they’re in better shape for our next assignment.”

Gold mused for a moment and then cocked a grin and looked back at the security chief. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Lauoc and his old friend, does it?”

Corsi returned the grin but shook her head. “Don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Poppycock,” Gold said and then looked at Gomez and added, “That’s a technical term.”

Wong turned around to the captain and said, “Sir, I’ve checked. Were we delayed here for another twenty-four hours, we could still be at our next assignment if we travel at warp eight point two.”

“Impressive,” Gold said. “Let’s go live a little. Commander Kesh-Mara, it seems we do have time for a one-day stay, so we’ll happily take you up on your offer. Permission to begin sending my crew over in shifts?”

“Granted with my gratitude,” Kesh-Mara said as he half-bowed toward the screen.

As the image faded, the captain turned to Gomez and Corsi and said, “Make it work, have fun, and make sure you don’t leave the captain out of the rotation.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Gomez said.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It’s nice to revisit old friends and that’s pretty much how I view the da Vinci crew. This may be my third time steering the ship, but I’ve been an avid reader and fan of the line, marveling at the situations my fellow scribes have concocted. I appreciate Keith R.A. DeCandido inviting me back on board.

A tip of the hat to Kevin Dilmore and Dayton Ward, the fine duo that kicked off the relaunch and helped give us a new status quo. The handoff proved smooth as we compared notes and eased our characters along.

Feedback is essential to becoming a better writer. My editor and my peers take me far, but I also want to thank the fans, especially those who post at PsiPhi.org and the TrekBBS.com, for their passion and opinions.

This was largely written under some distracting circumstances in early 2006 and I want to thank my incredibly patient wife, Deb, and my supportive, understanding son, Robbie, for helping me through this.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ROBERT GREENBERGER has spent much of his adult life writing or editing material featuring the Star Trek universe. This includes an eight-year stint editing the Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation comic books for DC Comics, highlighted by the award-winning Debt of Honor graphic novel. He has been author or co-author on numerous Star Trek books since 1990. His most recent work is “The Landing Party,” a story that appears in Star Trek: Constellations, the fortieth anniversary anthology. Bob’s other writing includes more than a dozen nonfiction books for young adults and chronicling the adventures of Matt Daemon, Seeker of Obscure Supernaturals, in Weekly World News (where Greenberger currently serves as production manager) among other works. To learn more, check out his blog at www.bobgreenberger.com. A lifelong Mets fan, Bob makes his home in Connecticut with his wife, Deb.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR