40.3 Call to Arms by Diane Carey

Author:Diane Carey [Carey, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure, Interplanetary voyages, Sisko; Ben (Fictitious character), Media Tie-In, Spaceships
ISBN: 9780671024970
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1998-09-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

CAPTAIN CHARLES REYNOLDS stood over Admiral Ross with his hands on his hips and a fully armed unflinching glare. He'd asked his questions. Now he was waiting.

"What're you talking about, Charlie?" the admiral asked. "What's going on where?"

"Border. Who've you got out there?" Reynolds swiped a hand at the star chart on the corner monitor. "Who's working the Cardassians area where I thought I was alone?"

"Charlie, I can't ... I can't divulge other crews' assignments and you know it."

"Ever since they made you an admiral you've been the stuffedest shirt in this sector, Hal. A Jem Hadar ship came by us and didn't even shoot, didn't pursue, didn't seem interested in engaging us at all. They evaded like crazy and only fired back when we fired on them. Even then they took potshots at our weapons array like my son shooting his slingshot at birds. My son hates to hunt, Hal. He cried all night when he winged a gull. They didn't fire on our engines, not our power source-that's not how the Jem Hadar work. Who was in that ship?"

"You didn't ... you didn't, uh ..."

Ah-hah! Clue!

"No, we didn't kill them. We got chased out by three other Jem Hadar ships. And funny thing-real funny-good old number one never came after us at all. Never even tried. Didn't fire as we were retreating. Nothing."

"How'd you get away?"

"Brilliance and genius and all those best-of-the-best things you hear tell about. Hal, I'm in Intelligence, remember? They don't put people there who don't have some. Fess up." Reynolds heightened his force, but lowered the level of assault by sitting down in the lounge chair before the desk. "I haven't melted lately or rearranged myself into a-here."

Abruptly he picked up a small metal paperweight of a seagull on the desk and put the sharp pointed end of the wing against the palm of his hand. A little pressure, a downward swipe—

Ross jolted. "Charlie, don't do that! Stop it!"

Blood drained down Reynolds' wrist and soaked into his uniform sleeve. As it pooled and began to drip onto the gray carpet, he looked at Ross and waited.

The admiral's expression had crumpled under the duress of the moment, and the pressures of the entire war. "All right, all right, Charlie...." he sighed. "I know you're not a shapeshifter...."

Widening his eyes, raising one brow and lowering the other, Reynolds gave him a look like a Halloween gargoyle, the kind he used on his crew when he wanted them to quit treating him like a captain and start treating him like somebody they actually respected.

"You guys at Command have a big bad secret," he said as blood dripped from his hand to the carpet. "Gonna let me in on it or do I have to ... ?"

Ross seemed to feel cornered, or just worn down. Reynolds ticked off a few seconds without saying anything, letting the silence work.

"Is your hand all right?" the admiral wondered, nervously blinking at the carpet.

Pushing a finger against the cut to get it to stop bleeding, Reynolds sat back and heaved an impatient breath.

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