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    The Heart of the Warrior
    The Heart of the Warrior
    The Heart of the Warrior
    Ebook257 pages3 hours

    The Heart of the Warrior

    By John Gregory Betancourt

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    About this ebook

    While a crucial peace conference fills Deep Space NineTM with rumors of intrigue and conspiracy, Major Kira and Lt. Commander Worf embark on a dangerous undercover mission deep into the heart of the Gamma Quadrant. Their mission: to find the secret of the addictive substance that the Changelings use to control their Jem'Hadar warriors. But how long can Worf and Kira remain undetected in the midst of the Dominion? Odo may be their only hope; but to save them, he'll have to stand against his own people.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPocket Books/Star Trek
    Release dateSep 22, 2000
    ISBN9780743420488
    The Heart of the Warrior
    Author

    John Gregory Betancourt

    John Gregory Betancourt is the bestselling author of more thirty books, including several Star Trek novels and the Dawn of Amber trilogy. 

    Read more from John Gregory Betancourt

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    3/5

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    • 3/5
      Kira, Worf and Odo go on a mission to recover someone who has the secret of the addictive substance the Changelings use to control the Jem'Hadar. Mean while Sisko tries to conduct a peace conference.

      This is a pretty good Deep Space Nine book. Kira, Worf and Odo face a lot of danger. Of course the peace conference falls apart.

    Book preview

    The Heart of the Warrior - John Gregory Betancourt

    CHAPTER

    1

    STATION LOG, CAPTAIN Benjamin Sisko, Arconina.

    The Valtusian peace conference is scheduled to begin in two days aboard DS9. The Valtusians have managed the near impossible through tireless behind-the-scenes work, persuading not only representatives of the Cardassian government, but Maquis and Federation representatives to sit down together in the hopes of finally settling the Maquis problem.

    Complicating logistics will be the loss of three key station personnel: Major Kira, Lieutenant Commander Worf, and Security Chief Odo, who are being dispatched on a high-priority mission into the Gamma Quadrant one day before the conference begins …

    * * *

    Major Kira Nerys leaned forward as far as she could, gazing out the vast curve of the Promenade's viewport toward the docking ring. She felt a growing sense of anticipation as she scanned the ships attached to the space station's outermost section for the one at Docking Pylon 7. She gazed past a beautiful new planet-hopper at Docking Pylon 5, past an old but serviceable Bajoran cargo carrier at Docking Pylon 6, and then found herself staring at an ancient, battered-looking transport ship parked just beyond them.

    The moment she saw it, she thought she'd made a mistake. That hunk of junk couldn't possibly be their ship. Quickly she began counting out around the docking ring, and once again she came to the same broken-down wreck in Docking Port 7. What was Quark trying to do, get them all killed? A flash of rage passed through her, and she struggled to keep her temper under control. This wasn't anything like the sleek, fast little starship she'd been led to expect.

    The transport ship had to be at least fifty years old. Its hull held hundreds if not thousands of pockmarks from collisions with space debris, and more than a couple of phaser burns scarred the nacelles, which hunched over the passenger cabin. One such burn had been sloppily patched with what looked like scrap iron. She leaned closer, straining to make out the details. Not durasteel, she thought, appalled, and not even regular steel—raw scrap iron.

    I'm going to strangle him, she thought, gripping the railing as though it were the Ferengi's scrawny little neck. There's no doubt about it this time. I'm going to strangle him.

    She felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle with indignation. She had suspected Quark would try to pull a fast one, and of course he had. When would Sisko learn not to deal with him? Trusting a Ferengi to get a civilian ship for them—it was nothing short of suicidal.

    She shook her head in disgust and released the railing. He can't be serious, she said, turning to Chief O'Brien beside her. She pointed at the ship. Tell me that's not it!

    O'Brien frowned as he peered at the note in his hand. Docking Port 7, he read. That's her, all right. Perhaps she's not as bad as she looks.

    Right. She gave a derisive snort. It's going to be ten times worse.

    We won't know till we look inside, O'Brien went on. His words sounded forced even to Kira.

    Come on, then, she said, turning toward the turbolift. Let's get it over with so we can start looking for a real ship.

    She wove her way through the crowds on the Promenade toward the nearest lift, letting her anger build to a white-hot fury. The station was packed, and crowds swelled the Promenade to bursting, but she noticed that everyone who saw her face or met her gaze had the good sense to scramble out of her way. I never was very good at hiding my feelings, she thought. At least Quark won't mistake my reaction to his ship.

    She'd known Quark for quite a few years, and though he'd always cut corners in his rush to make a profit, this was the most blatant rip-off she'd ever seen him try to pull. It bordered on criminal. And he had nerve to pull it on her—on all the station's command personnel! Well, he wasn't going to get away with it, she vowed, quickening her pace. She'd see to that.

    The turbolift doors opened as she approached, and a pair of Vulcans in dark cloaks strolled out, gazing around with faintly curious expressions. They had probably come to monitor the peace conference, she thought … not that she had much hope for success. It had taken her people decades to wrest freedom from Cardassia. How could the Maquis expect success practically overnight? She nodded politely to the Vulcans and entered the turbolift, with O'Brien right on her heels.

    Docking ring, she snapped to the computer. The doors whisked closed, and they rode out in silence.

    Perhaps … O'Brien mused.

    Kira glanced at him and was shocked to find an intrigued look on his face. She'd never been great at reading people, but there couldn't be any mistaking his expression.

    You're thinking of taking that ship, aren't you? she demanded.

    Uh … well, I'd have to have a closer look first, of course, he said, shifting a little uncomfortably. A hint of a blush crept into his cheeks. It's not what's outside that counts, after all—

    Forget it! Just forget it! Kira said, waving her arms for emphasis. Had everyone on the station gone crazy? It's not going to happen! There's no way I'm going off to the Gamma Quadrant in that pile of junk!

    The lift door opened before O'Brien could answer, and Kira whirled and strode out angrily into the bustle of travelers, cargo handlers, and station personnel. DS9 never seemed to sleep anymore, she thought, and with the peace conference coming up, ships were arriving at a dizzying rate. Every berth on the docking ring was occupied, and more sat waiting in queue to disburse passengers and cargo. Dax and half the Ops staff were busy juggling schedules to make sure everyone got aboard the station in a timely manner.

    She paused and glanced up and down the broad curve of the docking ring. Where was that Ferengi bastard? With so much going on, he had to be here.

    Kira finally spotted Quark and his brother Rom standing off to one side talking to a pair of Andorians. The Andorians kept glancing around nervously; they seemed to be trying to keep a low profile, Kira thought. Although they wore long, concealing brown tunics with simple brass-colored belts, their shocks of white hair, bright blue skins, and antennae stood out in sharp contrast to everything around them.

    Close by them, she noticed a pair of Bajoran cargo handlers in one-piece red uniforms lounging inconspicuously, as though on break. I know those two, she realized, and then managed to place their faces. They were two of Odo's deputies. They had to be keeping Quark under surveillance, Kira thought with a touch of glee. . . leave it to Odo. Even with all the bustle going on, the constable still had time to keep tabs on the station's number one suspect.

    Surveillance or not, she had her own problems with Quark right now, and she wasn't about to wait for him to finish his business with the Andorians. She stalked forward. The Andorians spotted her, muttered something to Quark, and hastily turned and walked farther up the docking ring. Probably smugglers, Kira thought with distaste; Quark would deal with anyone or anything if it meant profit. Still, she would trust Odo to keep him in check.

    Her thoughts turned to the ship he was trying to foist off on them, and again her anger boiled up. I can handle this, she told herself. I will not strangle him. Yet.

    Quark— she began, drawing to a halt in front of him.

    Major Kira! Quark said, grinning happily. "Your ship has just arrived, exactly as ordered. And what a beauty, too—the Galactic Queen, a pleasure cruiser serving the Orjax Cluster until two weeks ago. Why, she only has fifty million light-years on her warp engines—"

    Kira clenched her jaw. I'm not going to strangle him, she told herself again. She opened her mouth to give an angry retort, but O'Brien interrupted.

    And I'll bet, O'Brien said from behind her, that she hasn't had a single day of regularly scheduled maintenance. We looked her over from the observation deck on the Promenade. We couldn't help but notice all the damage she's sustained over the years.

    Decades, rather, Kira muttered. Leave it to a human to try to play peacemaker, she thought. She gave O'Brien a displeased glance, but he flashed her a quick grin.

    A few minor cosmetic blemishes … Quark began, giving them both a reassuring smile. A little paint and you won't even know the difference. Isn't that right, Rom?

    True, brother, Rom said quickly. A little paint is all she needs.

    There you have it, Quark said with a winning smile.

    Paint. Kira folded her arms and contented herself with leveling a piercing stare at the little Ferengi. It seemed to work, she noticed with some satisfaction; Quark shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

    You won't find a better ship, he said.

    Come on, O'Brien said, holding out one hand.

    Let's get it over with. I need the technical specs and the registration papers.

    Of course. Quark held out his palm and Rom slapped a datachip into it. Quark passed the chip over to O'Brien, then turned and led the way toward Airlock 7, saying, She's a Delphi-class transport ship. As you no doubt already noticed, she is built using the finest Thelorian construction from human blueprints, with only fifty million light-years on her warp engines—

    It won't do, Kira said flatly. Quark could talk it up until his tongue fell out, but it didn't change one simple fact: The ship was a disaster. For one thing, we need an airtight hull.

    Delphi-class? O'Brien said, nodding. I thought so. I worked on a couple of Delphi-class ships during the Cardassian war.

    Delphi-class? Was that important? Kira glanced over at him. O'Brien's forehead had wrinkled in thought again. What was so great about a Delphi-class ship? It was just another obsolete model, as far as she knew. Wasn't it?

    That's right, Quark said smoothly, a classic, isn't that so, Rom?

    Right, brother, Rom said, rubbing his hands together nervously. They don't make them like that anymore.

    Kira gave a snort. I can see why, she said. It's a death trap.

    Reaching the proper airlock, Quark punched an access code into the hand pad, then stood back as the huge red door rolled to the side like a cog in some vast clockwork mechanism.

    Instantly a dank, wet, unpleasant odor flowed out through the airlock. Kira gagged and took a step back.

    What the hell is that stink? she demanded, covering her nose and mouth with one hand. It had to be coming from inside the ship, she thought. What was Quark trying to do, poison them on top of everything else?

    The smell got worse. Gasping, Kira retreated a couple of meters. It smelled like rotting meat and raw sewage mixed together, she thought, fighting down bile. She'd never smelled anything quite so foul.

    Quark, too, was covering his nose. Rom? he demanded. What's the meaning of this?

    Brother, I think they mentioned a small problem with the ship's air filtration system, Rom said. I'm sure I can fix it.

    No problem, then, Quark said. He turned back to O'Brien and gave a nervous little laugh. Rom can fix it later tonight. Shall we look inside?

    Close it up, O'Brien said, frowning and covering his own mouth and nose. I'm not going in there with anything less than an environment suit!

    Quark punched in the code again and the door rolled shut. Rom will get right on it, he promised. "This ship is not even remotely acceptable, Kira said. She continued to fight down nausea. You'll have to do better, Quark, if you expect to make a deal."

    It's the only thing on the market! Quark protested. You should see what I turned down to get this beauty for you—

    It'll do, O'Brien said. He was nodding to himself and smiling faintly.

    Kira gaped at him. "What?" she demanded. She could barely believe what she'd just heard. How can you say that! This is a … a … Words failed her. She didn't know where to begin.

    Prize? Quark suggested. Bargain?

    It's no prize, O'Brien said, "but it just might do.

    If the systems check out, that is, he added hastily. I'll get back up here with a team in environment suits to look everything over in half an hour. He nodded toward the turbolift. Come on, Major. Let's talk to the captain about it."

    Kira set her feet. Are you insane? she demanded. She had no intention of accepting the ship. It's a disaster waiting to happen!

    "Come on, Major, O'Brien said, still softly but more intensely. He gave a jerk of his head toward the lift. Let's see the captain first, okay?"

    She shrugged in despair. What was going through O'Brien's mind? Either he had a plan or he really had gone insane, she decided. If it was a plan, it had better be a damn good one.

    All right, she said. We'll talk to the captain.

    O'Brien started for the lift, and Kira trailed after him. How he could even suggest accepting this ship was beyond her. She puzzled over it. More than once she'd decided all humans were crazy, but there always seemed to be a method to their madness. Even so, O'Brien couldn't possibly accept such a pitiful excuse for a ship … could he? He hadn't even checked out the interior systems. Didn't he care about them? Didn't he at least want an airtight hull?

    Another pair of satisfied customers, Kira overheard Quark saying proudly to Rom.

    That did it. She whirled, leveling another piercing glare at him. Don't think this is over, Quark, she called. Captain Sisko still has to sign off on the ship. And if I have my way, she mentally added, Odo will lock you up in that stinking hull for the rest of your life for trying to cheat us. Let the punishment fit the crime!

    She hurried to join O'Brien in the turbolift. The second the doors shut, she demanded, "Are you insane? That ship—"

    Give me ten minutes at a comm station, he said, and I'll let you know.

    CHAPTER

    2

    JUST ONE SMALL adjustment. Dr. Julian Bashir hid his nervousness behind a studied expression of calm. He flipped open the back panel of his new DNA analyzer, which he'd designed and built with the help of the station's computer. He bent down and peered inside at the complex tangle of circuits and relays and power couplings. What was wrong with it? It should be working. He'd gone over it a hundred times already, and every circuit checked out perfectly.

    He glanced up at Captain Sisko. His commanding officer was frowning with impatience. Sisko's new beard and shaved head only emphasized that expression. Bashir swallowed. I'd better finish up in a hurry, he thought. Sisko was a busy man, juggling the Valtusian peace conference and a mission into the Gamma Quadrant, and he didn't have time to waste.

    Behind Sisko, Lieutenant Commander Worf and Security Chief Odo both looked on with bored, slightly put-upon expressions. Worf sighed audibly and shifted from foot to foot. I'm losing them, Bashir thought.

    Nevertheless, he continued to keep his expression a careful neutral as he examined the delicate microconnections inside the scanner. It should be working, he thought. Why wasn't it? He simply didn't understand the problem.

    Doctor … Sisko began.

    One second more. His training at Starfleet Academy hadn't just covered biology and medicine. Bedside—in this case, tableside—manners were just as important, he knew. Like they said at Starfleet, as long as you look like you know what you're doing, your patients will have faith in you. Of course, he'd have to make sure that faith wasn't misplaced.

    He sucked in a deep breath. The scanner had to work. Everything from the schematics to the programming parameters had checked out perfectly during computer-simulated tests. So why wouldn't it power up now?

    Then he spotted the problem. It was so simple, he could have slapped himself. One power coupling had worked its way loose. He must have failed to lock it into position when he was assembling it, he realized. Carefully he reached in with two fingers, fitted it into the proper position, and pushed gently. He felt the two pieces lock together with a faint snap.

    That should do it, he thought with a mental sigh of relief. He hoped.

    Well? Sisko prompted.

    Bashir smiled with new confidence as he stood up again. It would work, he told himself. You didn't graduate second in your class from Starfleet Academy without learning a thing or two about machines.

    Ready, he said.

    He closed the DNA analyzer's back panel. Running one hand nervously through his short brown hair, he took a deep breath, then for the second time touched the activation button. Now work, damn it, he mentally instructed the machine. He willed it to start with every fiber of his being.

    A low hum spread through the medical bay. Bashir slowly let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It had powered up, he thought triumphantly. It was working. The power coupling hadn't been quite in place, that was all. It had been his own fault, not the machine's … simple human error.

    That fixed it, he said. Sorry about the delay. Commander, if you wouldn't mind?

    Worf stepped forward. What exactly do you want me to do? the tall Klingon asked, his voice a low growl. He sounded a little nervous, Bashir thought. Klingons were just like human patients in that respect. They all had to be coddled and encouraged when it came to visiting

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