The Long Night (16 page)

But the command chair gave Ribe a good view of the crew. It also had its own screen, which he had left running. The screen showed, with the flick of a finger, a three-dimensional map with the fleet's trajectory plotted on it. The map showed the ship nearing the Federation space station. He then flicked the screen and saw the blackness of space punctuated by the light of nearby stars. It told him nothing. So he magnified the image ten thousand times.

And froze.

A fleet of Cardassians, which he had expected.

Three Federation starships already docked, which he had not.

"General," he said, "we must consult."

His advisors moved closer. He used to joke that they were a small army trying to operate as one brain. It never worked. If it hadn't been custom for the head of the Jibetian Council to surround himself with advisors, he would have cut his loose a long time ago. But tradition and the past on which it was based were the foundation of Jibetian culture.

It was his job as head of the Jibetian Council and the senior member of the Ribe-Iber-Bikon family to make certain that the past-the official, government-sanctioned past-was never challenged.

"Forgive me, Lord High Sir," the general said, "we're nearing the station. I-"

"You'll come here," Ribe snapped.

The general's mouth thinned, but he whirled and took his place beside Ribe.

Ribe gestured at the screen. "Explain this."

"Our sensors just picked it up." The general lowered his voice so that only Ribe and the advisors could hear. "The station is at priority alert. It appears to be under some sort of threat from the Cardassians."

"I thought that treaty was settled."

"As did I, Lord High Sir."

"But they are expecting us."

The general nodded once.

"And they have not told us to turn around."

The general nodded again.

"How much firepower does a Federation starship have?"

"More than three of our ships combined," the general said.

Ribe tapped his lip with his index finger. Strange. Very strange. But he didn't pretend to understand the Federation. It was a complex organization made up of dissimilar peoples. To ascribe it one cultural attitude was to underestimate it. "Then, in your estimation, they don't need us for firepower."

"No, Lord High Sir. I don't believe they do."

Ribe nodded. "You may return to your post. Keep me informed on our proximity to the station and its own status."

"Yes, Lord High Sir." The general's tone had an edge of disrespect. He managed it in the repetition of Ribe's title, but technically the man had done nothing wrong. He was merely allowing his resentment of Ribe's usurpation of his ship and his fleet to show in a subtle, unpunishable manner.

Ribe hoped that the resentment would go no farther than this. He could not command a fleet on his own, and his advisors, useless in political matters, were dangerous with weapons at their disposal.

He stared at the screen, thankful for the military efficiency of the vessel. No one would interrupt him. His advisors knew better, and the crew could not even make eye contact with him. He needed a moment to think. His emotions had been in turmoil since he received the news about the possible discovery of the Nibix.

Children learned about the Nibix in Siberan religious classes. It was the great ship that took the Supreme Ruler to his destiny, and God saw fit to lose it among the stars. He had loved that story until he came into his majority.

Then his father told him the truth. Told him about the past.

Ribe snapped his fingers. His senior advisor, Concar, leaned over his shoulder. "Any news as to the Nibix?"

Concar shook his head. "The ship's name has not been mentioned nor any search mission. Could our information be faulty?"

Ribe pointed to the screen. "Three Federation starships and a station on alert would seem to say otherwise."

Concar nodded but obviously did not agree. "Unless our security is not as tight as we might like to think."

Ribe templed his fingers, a sign for Concar to remove himself. Concar leaned back, keeping a reasonable distance from the chair. Ribe studied the ships.

The search for the Nibix and its wealth had entranced this entire sector for generations. In the rule of his great-great-grandfather, a possible Nibix had been discovered. The old man had visited the ship himself, even though he knew it was not, could not, be the Nibix. This coldsleep ship had weapon burns on its sides, and its crew had died awake and fighting.

The crew on the Nibix went to sleep one night and never woke up. Bikon had seen to that.

Bikon, family legend held, was brilliant and charismatic, a man everyone trusted. Ribe had always doubted that part of the legend. Bikon may have been brilliant, but he would have been the only member of the Ribe-Iber-Bikon family to have charisma. The family had held its power all these centuries, not through love, but through complete and absolute control of history, resources, and information. The existence of the council itself was a mere formality. The religion had evolved into harmless pap, a mixture of legend, stories that made the people feel good, and common wisdom.

The discovery of the Nibix would change all of that. The clear death of the Supreme Ruler would challenge his presence in Siberan as an immortal. The wealth on the ship would cause great internal and external chaos.

And the sabotage.

The evidence of the sabotage could never get out. Bikon had always been smart, but even he had not been able to hide his method of escape. Eight hundred years ago, no one had ever heard of a transport beam. Eight hundred years ago, he had to use an escape pod.

It would become clear to anyone with half a brain that Bikon had planned his betrayal carefully. All of the work the Ribe-Iber-Bikon family had done since then-eight hundred years of maintaining peace, expanding Jibet's economic and world base, and improving the Jibetian way of life-would be discounted with that one piece of news.

For Bikon, believing his rival gone forever, had allowed the Supreme Ruler to live in the people's imaginations. He had used the Supreme Ruler's image to defeat the revolution, and then he had used the Supreme Ruler's family history, its supposed lineage to the Jibetian pantheon of Immortals, to maintain stability.

It must have seemed so brilliant at the time.

And it was.

But it was Ribe's curse now.

His only hope was to destroy the ship and to make it look as if someone else did it.

Preferably the Federation.

The starships might make that easy for him.

"The station is hailing us," the general said.

"Let them," Ribe said. "I will talk with them when I am ready. Spread the ships into standard defense positions and hold your location."

The general turned and gave Ribe a puzzled look. Ribe had not given a direct order about the fleet before. Ribe ignored him and continued to stare at the ships hanging around the space station.

After a moment the general turned away and did what he was told.

The Jibetian fleet had reached the station. The ships were unlike any Kira had ever seen. Instead of the birdlike Cardassian ships or the mounted saucer starships, the Jibetian ships were long, sleek, black ovals built for speed.

She hated them on sight.

She hated even more the fact that they were not responding to her hails.

"Mr. Tappan?" she said for the fifth time.

"I've tried every frequency, Major," he said.

"They are receiving our transmissions, aren't they, Ensign Jones?"

"So far as I can tell, Major." Jones had tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. She was bent over her console, her fingers flying. "I think they're not responding on purpose."

"Great." Kira let out a huge sigh. She couldn't be a diplomat if she couldn't even talk to the parties. Combat was easier. Then a person knew why ships had arrived and how to respond.

"Major, the Madison is hailing us," Tappan said.

"On screen."

She whirled, deciding to let her frustration show. "Are they responding to you?"

"I haven't tried, Major." Captain Higginbotham smiled. "We agreed that you'd handle this."

"Obviously, they don't want to talk to me."

"For the moment." Higginbotham looked relaxed except for the tightening around his eyes. They had to have a class at the Academy to teach Starfleet commanders the art of looking calm under pressure. "Captains Kiser and Mouce will join me in a meeting on Deep Space Nine. We would like to consult with you as well. I want you to beam us all aboard on my mark."

Kira almost reminded him that to beam him aboard, she would have to drop her shields. But he knew that. The Cardassians would as well. But the Jibetians might not.

Their silence was affecting her more than she had realized.

His image winked out.

"Ensign Moesta," Kira said, "when the captain gives his mark, drop our shields. Raise them the moment the captains beam aboard."

"Aye, sir," Ensign Moesta said.

"Mr. Tappan," Kira said, "Hail them and let them know we're ready."

Tappan nodded. His fingers flew across the pad. "We hailed, and they acknowledged. Another hail from Captain Higginbotham."

"On screen," Kira said.

Higginbotham's image winked on again. Behind him, she could see the bright lights of the transporter pad. "Now, Major," he said.

His image broke up as the screen winked out. Ensign Moesta followed her instructions. Kira held her breath.

The three captains appeared in a triangular formation in Ops.

"Shields up now," Kira shouted.

Ensign Moesta hurriedly obeyed her commands.

Captain Higginbotham smiled. He was taller than the other two captains. Rangier, too. Captain Kiser was shorter and heavier. His wedge-shaped face was grimmer than she had ever seen it. Usually his dark humor and subtle teasing brightened any gathering.

And in the far corner, Captain Mouce stood. Kira had never met the captain of the Bosewell before. She was small and lean but had a lot of power in her petite frame. Her hair was a mixture of gray and white, and her eyes were a wide bright green. She had the exotic look of humans raised in the outer colonies.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine," Kira said, and never had she given a more sincere greeting in her life.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of Jake's face. The back of his throat was dry. The heat in the room was up considerably. Quark had moved away from the door, but he still kept his eyes closed. Nog sat beside his uncle, and Rom was examining the side of the equipment, as far away from Quark as he could get.

Jake was studying the screens, hoping for a clue, anything to help them escape.

Then he saw Kira speak briefly to one of the starship captains. The captain's image winked out, and Kira snapped a command to one of the ensigns.

"Looks like something is about to happen," Jake said.

Quark sighed. "Something is always about to happen," he said. "Let me know when it does happen."

Suddenly the light in the room brightened for a moment and then a scraping sound filled the area, cutting through Jake's ears and making his teeth ache.

"What-?"

On one screen Jake could see three starship captains beam into Ops.

"The doors!" Quark shouted as he tried to scramble to his feet, but Nog, in his haste, bumped into Quark and sent them both tumbling. Rom launched himself toward his family instead of turning toward the door behind him.

All three doors were opening at once. Kira had to drop the screens on the station to let the three captains aboard and the automatic doors were somehow linked to the screens. Cool air entered, relieving some of the heat. The doors had made it half open and then started to close.

"No!" Jake shouted. He sprang for the sliding metal plate. His thin body somehow made it between the closing metal and for only a flash he thought maybe he should stay there and try to hold the door open for the others. But it became quickly clear that he wouldn't even be able to slow the door down. Its weight would crush him.

At the last second he slipped on through, barely pulling his arm and fingers out of the way as the panel slammed shut.

On the far side he could hear the distant shouting of the three Ferengi.

"I'll get help!" he shouted back, but he doubted they could hear him.

He turned and looked down the dark, narrow corridor. A short distance away, the corridor forked. He was back to the same problem he and Nog had earlier.

Which way was out?

SISKO COULD SEE his breath. The cavernous control room of the Nibix seemed colder than it had even a moment before. The domed ceiling, open to the stars, added to the illusion of chill. Sisko felt, if he glanced up, as if he were standing on a platform in open space.

Bashir had his hands under his arms and was rocking back and forth. Dax had crawled under the control panel with O'Brien to see the sabotage for herself. When they came out a moment later, she was covered with the same black specks that dotted O'Brien's skin and uniform. She confirmed his findings and added that the sabotage was both thorough and subtle.

It had been done by someone completely familiar with the ship.

Sisko ran a gloved finger over one of the green glowing control panels. The ship still seemed alive and vital, just as he imagined it would. But, with all his study, he had not been able to foresee how many problems the discovery would cause. And how many of the problems would fall on his shoulders.

"What do you think, old man?" he asked Dax softly. She was standing beside him, looking beautiful despite the cold. He still wasn't used to his old friend's new look, new beauty. He still felt Curzon's presence, the old man's vitality and quick mind, even though Jadzia was a completely different person.

"The word is out, Benjamin. The presence of the Jibetians as well as the Cardassians proves that. The moment we communicate with those starships, everyone will know where the Nibix is. And judging from Quark's reaction to the ship, not only will there be political trouble, we'll have trouble with scavengers as well."