Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Fallen Heroes by Dafydd Ab Hugh

Author:Dafydd Ab Hugh
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671884598
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1994-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

11

ODO STARED AT the third Bekkir bloodstain he had seen. Quark had found the puddle at the intersection of a corridor. From the angle of the spattered blood, Odo could easily tell the direction from which the shot had come.

Yet again, pieces of twisted, melted armor surrounded the blood, as if, after dying, the Bekkir had been fried with some intense heat that left nothing behind.

“Looks like somebody was retreating” said Quark, “shooting them with their own guns.”

Odo nodded. “Probably just one gun, and not much ammunition. Clever. Very clever. Defensive armor evolves at the same pace as offensive weapons: the only gun likely to be able to penetrate Bekkir armor is a Bekkir gun. Hard to tell, since the Bekkir have apparently destroyed the bodies.”

“Sounds like the gruesome sort of thing that a Bajoran major would think of,” said Quark, sounding simultaneously impressed and disapproving.

“Or Commander Sisko,” agreed Odo. “The civilians appear to have been as unsuccessful as the security team. An experienced soldier might think of incapacitating a Bekkir and taking its rifle.”

“So is Kira still alive? Or maybe Sisko?”

“I doubt it,” said Odo. “If they were alive, conscious, and still on the station, they’d be in Ops, repairing the damage.”

Odo continued down the corridor, backtracking the shot telemetry. He climbed or vaulted over heaped rubble, collapsed bulkheads and overheads, crouched and wriggled through tenuous, fragile “tunnels” formed by fallen debris. He did not change his shape; his energy was running low, and every change taxed him tremendously. He would have to change to his natural state in few enough hours as it was, and he intended to be in a place of relative safety—and privacy from Quark, if possible.

The Ferengi, for his own part, labored to keep up . . . frightened that he would be crushed by a metallic cave-in, but more afraid of being left alone and lost in the twisted shards of what was once DS9. Quark was not an athlete, but he did a credible job of following the constable.

They passed several spots where the cold stars of Bajor leered through gaping mouths in the skin of the station; only the stationwide atmospheric shield kept DS9 pressurized.

With the fusion power plants down, the shield, too, would soon fail, forcing them to don pressure suits.

“More blood,” said Odo in a small, tired-sounding voice. He examined two more puddles of black blood and pink flesh that was probably Bekkir brain tissue; again, twisted heaps of liquefied armor lay scattered nearby.

“I detect a pattern,” said Odo, examining the armor. “When a Bekkir dies, an automatic incendiary device consumes the body, destroying any evidence that might yield clues about their race.

“The Bekkir that Dax killed didn’t burn.”

“I’ve thought of that. The same explosion that killed him probably destroyed the burn-mechanism—a stroke of good fortune for us. These others were simply shot, leaving the incendiaries intact.”

“Oh.” Quark simply watched, impassive. He had already seen too much blood to care one way or the other about more any deaths, friend or foe.

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